That’s sunrise just outside Laem Chabang, Bangkok’s nearest harbor that will take our ship. We’ll have a two-hour drive into town and then explore all day. More to report then.
For now:
More when we return from out wanderings this evening.
Marseille was a funky town once. Now it’s got a shiny harbor, some beautiful museums and broad vistas, a hugely diverse population and close to a million tourists per year – up from the 20,000 it claimed when we were there in the 1980’s.
On arrival we went almost at once to nearby Aix-en-Provence, and its markets, lavender shops, cathedrals and history. (Even aerosol olive oil – see second pic.) 
The wars are here too, as they always are in Europe – today in memory plaques for the “martyr’s of the Resistance.” The story of those real participants is scary and moving and true. There’s also a memorial to those who helped to liberate Aix.
It was really hot in Marseilles so we took this tiny train on a one-hour circle up to the Basilica Notre-Dame de la Garde and back.
And on the way, one more reminder of the continued ghost of WWII here – this tank was part of the liberation of Marseille and sits on a triangle of land among apartments and houses and a plain residential neighborhood. History doesn’t have to repeat itself – it’s still here.
Two very full days in Rome, jet lagged but determined. The Coliseum and the Forum captured our imagination in new ways as we learned more about the lives of early Romans, their gladiators and their rulers. Jewish slaves helped to build the deadly theater. The famous Arco di Tito – Arch of Titus – bears images of a menorah because along with those Jewish slaves, captured at the fall of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, the conquering Romans brought treasure, including Jewish artifacts, and chose to represent them on Titus’ arch.
We did so much more but our first night on the Sojourn is almost upon us and we need to be up early to see Napoleon’s summer home. Here are a few more pix of Rome. 
OH and Grazie Roma? It’s the best sports anthem ever, and the TODAY SHOW’s 1985 Rome week closed with Antonelo Venditti singing it, along with huge crowd of happy Rome residents, as we all celebrated on the Spanish Steps.
They all marched down the center aisle of the salon to echoes of No Day but Today, the lovely song from Rent . They’re all young, and from more than 30 countries: engineers and stewards, restaurant staff and destination coordinators, Captain and cruise director, performers and crew.
It was the last night of the trip and we’d just left Petersburg, one of the world’s loveliest cities.
The drama of its grim history, combined with its beauty, left all of us with full hearts. The emotion and the fact that in the morning our floating dormitory would deposit us and all our worldly goods in Stockholm and end the magic journey left us vulnerable. Watching these young people, who had been so deeply involved in our lives, slammed us up and over the top, leaving nearly 300 of us moved and weepy.
For a bunch of worldly travelers, who’ among us had been everywhere from Antarctica to Burma to Saigon, we were pretty sappy. The staff would welcome new cruisers hours after we left, but this artful end to a perfect trip, so much like the last day of camp, really, was sentimental and perfect.
We’re sailing from A Coruña to France today so no stops. It should be a lazy day be we keep sitting with people at meals and the four or six of us close the dining room every time – for every meal. Lots of interetsing people with amazing stories. Can’t miss any.
We’re up on deck now though, by the pool; it’s a bit chilly but they give us big orange blankets and the sun is shining. Right now Van Morrison is singing Have I Told You Lately That I Love You? and the pool has this soothing wave machine. There are waiters bringing us coffee to ward off the chill.
I am still in the first Game of Thrones plus Mark Leibovich’s story about the battle to succeed Henry Waxman so I’m set (except that I’m very guilty to be at Winterfell instead of somewhere more learned) but I am having such a good time with them!
We were really ready for this day after all that exploring! Tomorrow, Cherbourg and (depending on logistics, Mont St-Michel.
Portuguese is really hard; even they think so. It is also, and you better remember this, NOT just another kind of Spanish. They’d rather have you “mangle the Portuguese than try to use Spanish and think we’ll understand.” There’s a strong national pride here and “Spain is our only neighbor so sometimes we have to hate them.” It’s Spain and the ocean, actually – one on one side, one on the other.
In between language lessons today, as we wandered the Medieval town of Guimarães we learned even more about local feelings toward the Euro and the EU. Here are some of the opinions/facts (?) offered in the past two days:
Look again at this poster. It says “We Are Not the Debt” and complains that all Portuguese are being blamed for their country’s debt to the EU when, they say, it has largely been the EU’s policies that made the borrowing necessary in the first place.
Nobody will ever accuse this lovely, colorful country, with its passionate politics, of being a simple place; part of its charm is the passion with which their views are held. Our visit here as been a happy, enlightening surprise.
* NOTE: a couple of knowledgeable people on this trip have taken exception to this, claiming that it was not the Euro but the huge amount of public spending that has caused their debt.
**NOTE: These same knowledgeable people, one a CEO and the other an active environmentalist, maintain that the ban on fishing was instituted because the waters off Portugal have been massively over-fished and the only way to preserve the fish population was to cut off fishing and allow them to replenish. Yet another person, Chilean, told me he thought it was just that Portugal could not compete and so was encouraged to try other industries. Clearly, if I get that many opinions in one day, this country’s relationship with its economic future, and with the EU, is complicated.
Lisbon is a gorgeous city with a tough history. We spent today with a specialist in Jewish life here – which went from a quarter of a million souls to 700 between WWII and today. Between the Axis and Salazar they never had a chance, and before that…. well the stories of abuse and expulsion are too hideous to describe.
It’s enough to say that through the centuries Jews were permitted in Lisbon and Portugal for short periods of time and then expelled. When the economy tanked and needed a boost, the king always invited them back. For a while. Then the cycle began again. Each time it was “convert or leave.” And if you do leave, you go without your money, your goods or anything else. Those who remained, as “cryptojews” (secret Jews or those practicing old Jewish ways even though they were no longer identified as Jews,) or were unfortunate enough to be around during one of the angry Jew-banning periods, retribution was swift and terrible. Torture, burning at the stake, slow, Game of Thrones deaths by other means and, more than once, forceable seizure of children who were then either adopted by Christians or enslaved. One particularly terrible story involves 1506, right around Passover, when thousands faced grisly, dramatic trials, sentencing and death. It is not a pretty story.
It took until the early 21st Century for anyone to acknowledge and commemorate this terrible time.
There’s lots more, all of it sadly familiar, although in many ways the Portuguese were more horribly creative than most in what they did to the Jews in their midst.
There are also stories of enormous courage, including Aristides de Sousa Mendes, a diplomat who saved thousands of Jews by issuing visas and exit papers to them after having been forbidden to do so. Mostly though, even today the terrible stories outweigh the good ones. By a lot.
We learned all this, and so much more, from a spectacular guide named Paolo Scheffer whose knowledge is exceeded only by his passion for sharing it.
That knowledge, although focused on Jewish history and art history, also covers the politics surrounding the EU and the Portuguese economy, the days of dictator Antonio Salazar and the wonders of the 1974 “Carnation Revolution” whose 40th anniversary was celebrated on April 25th. The uprising against Portugal’s fascist dictator killed only four, and featured carnations in gun barrels and on demonstrators.
It’s wonderful to recall, but this day has been replete with memories of uprisings of a different sort, always with the Jews as targets. Perhaps recalling the carnations and all they stood for also reminds us of the vulnerability of all minorities in all cultures and the need for all of us to rise up to protect them.
It’s 3:30 in the afternoon and we’ve just returned from a trip to the barren cliff of Sagres, which was, until the 15th century, the end of the world.
It was there that Henry the Navigator, the third son of King John of Portugal, sent the explorers he trained and financed out to explore what lay beyond the lands they knew.
It’s an inspiring story – a charismatic royal, never to be king, transforming Portugal and, really, the world. Sadly, all this wonder emerged despite, not because of, our guide. It’s tough to overestimate the power of a guide on a bus full of eager learners. She can seduce, enchant and mesmerize, or she can issue rote descriptions, lecture on the virtues of diversity to a crew of people who are on the trip because it’s what they already value, and, eventually, become toxic force within the community. And that’s what she was. Which wouldn’t be worth mentioning except that by the time we left the bus we were so bummed we were sniping at each other. Agitated and angry, disappointed and dismissed. OH and she forgot to show us where the statue of Henry was and wouldn’t turn around the one roundabout between us and his lovely presence pointing out to sea.
When you travel, every day is a jewel to be burnished, full of potential experiences and lessons and joys to share. So when someone violates the trust of leading this crew of nomads, it’s a grave offense, particularly painful in such a bleak, beautiful, Wuthering Heightsish landscape.
Fortunately, we rallied, went into the Portimāo for lunch, met some cool expats and saw trees wearing granny squares, 
some crazy ceramic benches with one tale of the history of Portugal illustrated on each one and a couple of really interesting political posters. Tomorrow: Lisbon!
There are some amazing people here. Wander around looking for a poolside table for lunch and two people look up and say, “Join us.” They turn out to be a pair of characters with whom we share enormous common ground – in broadcasting, in travel, in life.
Go to Trivia at noon and be outclassed at every turn (an unfamiliar experience, I might add.) Meet two couples who’ve sailed around the world and several who’ve hit most of it. All full of stories and curiosity and an unfettered sense of adventure. 
Spend a couple of hours on the private patio; wander upstairs to check out the gym and the spa then downstairs to the “book swap” to find an old favorite I would have rated “highly unlikely” to be along on a trip like this.
Then I met a Game of Thrones couple who had never heard of Hyperion and were thrilled when I went back to the give away and brought it to them. A perfect cruise reminder: never assume anything about anyone. Don’t.
I guess that’s true in general but out here on the sea it’s particularly so. Physical therapist or CEO, accountant or fashionista, nobody is predictable and almost everybody is as eager to meet you as you are to meet them. An openness to discovery – of new places, people, food, books and ideas dominates.
A lecture on tomorrow’s destination filled the large auditorium. It’s a kind of floating grad school dorm for grownups. In other words, as we move toward our first stop in Tangier in about eight hours, we’re a bunch of excited, curious, energetic travelers who also just happen to be living on a ship where this appeared at the foot of our bed tonight.
Yes, he’s a towel wearing Rick’s sunglasses and holding the info on our next stop in his paws. Goodnight for now, from Rick, me and the bunny. 
Here we are – on the Mediterranean Sea, enroute from Barcelona to Tangier. Sounds like something out of Casablanca but we’re really on our way – another great adventure is born.
Barcelona was amazing; we only had a day and a half and, exhausted from our flight, slept through the half and awoke just in time to go to the pier and board our ship.
No Zara, no mementos or gifts, but a brief wander around the old Jewish neighborhood and a spectacular walking tour of the great Gaudi buildings that add so much to what is already a vital, beautiful, cosmopolitan city.
Once aboard* we recalled what is so great about this sort of trip. The word “cruise” may summon visions of blue hair and stodgy folks but the truth is that people who choose this are gregarious (pretty tough to be otherwise in this collective environment) and love to swap travel stories – as well as tales about almost anything else. In our brief first day, we’ve already met and spoken at length with people from Australia, Canada, Minnesota, Florida, Arizona and Arkansas. All of them are avid explorers with amazing back stories. You’ll meet them too, right here, as the days pass.
It’s late though, so I’m keeping my post-a-day pledge without too much detail. Know only that our flights were comfortable and on time, Barcelona enchanting and exhausting and our first half day at sea lovely and a great preview of all that is to come. You’ll hear about all that, too.