Live from the Noordam - Transatlantic - NY to Rome

[Williebill]

I never thought that I would enjoy a honeymoon other than the one that I shared with my DW. At least I don't have to pay for this one.:D

Bill

[jwlnroe]

Wow it has been very intersting reading this thread. . you write these posts like its from a book. Congrats on getting married as well. I hope to sail on HAL someday.

[Sea Island Lady]

Strange that cruiserking hasn't written anything since the 18th. :confused:

 

I believe the ship is in Civitavecchia today. Maybe there is an internet problem on the ship.

[davenbeth7603]

No internet problems, my Dad is (was) on board and has e-mailed me everyday. They actually disembarked today, so maybe he'll update when he gets home!

[High C's]

Strange that cruiserking hasn't written anything since the 18th. :confused:

 

I believe the ship is in Civitavecchia today. Maybe there is an internet problem on the ship.

 

Perhaps Jonathan found more important things to do on his honeymoon!!;)

[lawyerrose]

Jonathan,

 

What's a churro? Some kind of pastry?? We're going to Cadiz, too, so I was real excited to read your posting on that stop. Thanks!

 

Rose

[Sea Island Lady]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Churro

[lawyerrose]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Churro

 

YUM!!! I know what I'll be doing in Cadiz!!!:D

[cruiserking]

Thank you all for lovely comments. I have enjoyed recording our transatlantic travels and will complete the tale.

 

We arrived back in New York City about two hours ago. It's so strange to wake up in Rome and half a day later I'm typing away on my computer. Sure there was that nine hour flight across the sea, but, all the same it feels like we fell through a worm hole and are deposited back at the starting line, back home.

 

It's about midnight in Italy and my energy is steadily fading. I will pick up the next installment tomorrow, perhaps with Rome and then work my way back.

 

Jonathan

[mamaofami]

Jonathan, glad you and your bride are home safe and sound.

[cruiserking]

Here is the next installment of our Transatlantic Noordam Crossing. Following this entry I will work my way back to the other ports and back aboard the Noordam. It's the best way I can figure getting back aboard a ship until our next cruise.

 

At 7:00 am the Noordam was docked at Civitavecchia. A mass of threatening clouds tumbled across the sky. After a fast breakfast at the Lido we were back in our cabin awaiting the call to debark our floating palace of the last 17 days. It’s always sad leaving a ship and casting off the lines on all the wonderful friends you’ve made during the voyage.

 

But this sail was a little bit different, it had been an epic adventure across the seas. We had visited so many different countries and christened so many new memories, that it was hard to be sad really.

 

Our voyage’s end was cushioned with two extra nights in Rome. As we loaded up our van and rolled away from the pier toward the fabled seven hills, a great new spirit of discovery bubbled inside of us.

 

The debark process went like clockwork, we were off the Noordam by 8:00 am. One of our Cruise Critic friends BillfromTulsa, had hired a van thru RomeCabs. Our very friendly and adept driver deftly loaded our litany of luggage, a jigsaw maneuver of sorts, and shortly we were underway.

 

The two hour trip into Rome flew by amid good conversation with our traveling Cruise Critic Cohorts Bill and Pam & Joy1; Fred & Sherri.

 

Gradually the rolling green pastures of Civitavecchia gave way to the commercial sprawl near the outskirts of Rome. Soon our attention was transfixed by a lone dome that flourished among the nearby buildings as we approached the city. The latter was only sixty years old, a mere sprout compared to the ancient structures that dominate the landscape of this iconic city.

 

As we sped through the labyrinthine streets this powerful monument seemed to erupt from the ether of time. There looming to our left was the fabled arena that housed the Daytona 500 of its day, the Circo Massimo or Circus Maximus. Ours was only a fleeting glance at this hallowed relic, yet still the imagination launches vivid images of the deafening sounds of twisting metal as horses and riders thunderously careened around hairpin curves amid the cacophony of crowds some 250,000 strong.

 

Such was the sight in 83 BC during Caesar’s day as 12 brazen heroes clenched the reins of their steeds and hurtled along the track, their galloping charges kicking up blinding billows of dust that draped the arena amid the rumbling cheers at the Chariot Races.

 

Not three minutes later another grandiose, archaic stadium sprang up from centuries past, the unmistakable and circular confines that housed an array of macabre blood sports, the Roman Colosseum. It seemed rather demure as we drove by, the ghosts of thousands years passed were quiet that day. Having risen at the crack of dawn and participated in a tango of clock forwarding in recent days the next great sight I was waiting to behold was our home for the next two nights.

 

Shortly our breath froze as our car neared this busy thoroughfare. Just beyond the dramatic spurting fountains of the Piazza della Repubblica stood two semi-circles of stone, the one on the left a glorious and regal building, the luxurious Boscolo Exedra Hotel beckoned us to saunter up its carpeted steps toward the serene and sumptuous sanctum within.

 

Some months ago when planning this trip, I almost succumbed to a frugal temptation. Thankfully my dad intervened and suggested this remarkable lodging option. After consulting the website I was won over, after all it was a special occasion. The guide books rate this as a five star and in our opinion it is worth every single one and more.

 

We were very impressed by the graciousness and professional flair of the hotel staff. The concierge went above and beyond to assist us in travel plans and various tasks during our stay. In the identical fashion that you visit another world when you board a ship, so is the feeling upon entering this sublime hotel. Two oversized revolving doors magically turn as soon as your foot crosses the circular threshold.

 

In a stunning dual fashion the Exedra is portal to the past with its eight hundred year old exterior but, through those magic doors is an elegant environment that would have made Caesar smile. The neo-classical interior features a soothing crème colored décor with plush sofas and subdued lighting. Our luxurious room, easily twice the size of our Noordam S suite, was replete with marble bathroom, lush carpeting, and a captivating view of the Fountain of the Naiads, where Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg once cavorted in Frederico Fellini’s famed film, La Dolce Vita.

 

We reveled in the feeling of grandeur as we sipped cappuccino’s and plucked cookies from a three tiered dessert tray set down before us. Modern day Rome raced by in a blur of speeding scooters, taxi’s and tour buses. Still many more pedestrians both local and tourists, old and young roamed across the Colonade where we sat.

 

While history lives on just about every street corner in Rome such modern inventions like the street crossing light are all but extinct. Getting to other side like the proverbial chicken is an adventure in this city. With cars zipping by like chariots we often waited for an Italian person to appear before we forged our way across the avenue. In the absence of such locals we simply held hands, looked each way, yelled the line from the Tom Hanks film “Run Forrest Run” until we arrived unscathed across the boulevard.

 

Our first day in Rome was rather low key. We enjoyed a delicious meal at the Tazio Restaurant at the Exedra. Ham and cheese never tasted so good, neatly crust trimmed, and toasted triangles with ham and melted mozzarella accompanied by perfectly salted fries. Ever the condiment fan I was impressed by four little jars, two each containing ketchup and mayonnaise imported from France.

 

After lunch we ran across the street and explored Michelangelo's Basilica degli Angeli. This impressive and awe inspiring church was built above the Diocletian Baths. Michelangelo, began work on it a year before his death in 1564. The church was completed by Jacopo Lo Duca, a pupil of Michelangelo and nephew of Father Antonio Lo Duca, the priest whose vision was to see angels soaring above the area where so many had suffered during the construction of the baths. A neat structural creation at the Exedra Hotel enables guests to peer through a glass floor at the ruins of the Diocletian Baths.

 

The rest of this day included a visit to an Italian pastry purveyor, unfortunately we had already ordered a canoli and banana gelato, but, I could swear a certain crème filled cake on the third shelf called my name. We did return to this shop the following day, it was quite a fiasco. My recommendation to anyone visiting Italy is to equip yourselves with some very basic phrases.

 

We encountered many people in Rome who were friendly, gracious and helpful others however, were not. In several of the very busy areas like small cafes, upon gleaning that we were from out of town certain locals behaved as if we were mirages. We did return for my dalliance with that certain pastry but, were reduced to the wading pool in the middle of a sweltering desert, we didn’t exist. After an endless wait for coffee and several ridiculous discussions with a silly store manager in a white jacket, we cancelled our coffee and made for the hotel.

 

Several doors down however our faith in Rome was restored when a very jovial pharmacy owner helped us select some products and all but invited us to dinner when he heard from whence we hailed, “I’ve been to New York City five times, beautiful!!”

 

Just adjacent to our hotel a series of workers were busily constructing the ornate promenade for the Italian Premiere of the new summer blockbuster Iron Man. My concierge friend Salvatore ably ascertained that the event would unfold the following evening at 8:30 pm.

 

April 23, Day Two in Rome.

 

We arose refreshed and renewed at our comfortable digs at the Exedra. Following a complementary and delectable buffet at the hotel we set out on a dizzying adventure. Elene had a deep desire to visit the Sistine Chapel and I was eager to step inside the Colosseum. After a roundabout cab journey via Tunisia we arrived at the fortress like walls of Vatican City. A giant throng of tourists crawled around the block. We waited patiently as several gypsies hawked their wares. You would never suspect it was a cool, spring morning for the legions of people teeming throughout. There were hundreds of school groups, myriads of tourists, all swarming through the turnstiles to see the epic works of Michelangelo.

 

Once inside our pilgrimage to the chapel was a harrowing, breakneck dash from one gigantic hall to the next. Past Egyptian relics, beyond ancient tapestries, across a sea of wandering tourist-nomads we galvanized a trek. Our journey to the chapel was part James Bond, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Alice in Wonderland rolled into one. Up some stairs, through a windy passage, down a long hallway. There is no such thing as the Sistine Chapel, we thought as we blazed and endless trail in, out, up and all around Vatican City.

 

One series of entrances looked like the mirror image of a door frame reflected a thousand times over. All the while, there were small, insignificant signs pointing the way. From one bottleneck to the next we blazed a trail, running, leaping, determined to locate the heralded works from this Italian master. Each time we arrived in a room with vaulted ceilings, we braced ourselves looked to the heavens for a familiar sign that this was the epic piece, but, alas our travels continued.

 

Then finally after we breached one last darkened set of stairs, the Sistine Chapel loomed from above. We marveled at the three dimensional looking drawings whose vivid colors made each Biblical depiction seem to leap from the wall or ceiling. The hordes of visitors stared above, each time a volley of conversation bristled, they were promptly hushed and the great chapel soon returned to a tomb of silence.

 

Next up was the Colosseum. We snapped pictures of the gargantuan exterior that is Vatican City, you could almost hear a thousand trumpets heralding the arrival of the Pope. Funnily enough while we wandered through the Vatican my father back home in New York had a private audience with the Holy Father.

 

On three occasions my dad had seen the motorcade travel by east 73rd Street. On one occasion he waved and the Pope waved back. We made our way beyond a thicket of touristy stalls and fellows dressed as Roman soldiers, the historical significance fell by the wayside and all I could think of was Mel Brooks and his companions standing outside a Roman Pharmacy saying “I’m looking for a pack of Trojans”.

 

After crossing the Ponte San’t Angelo and strolling by the Castel Sant’ Angelo, another cab ride raced us around Rome till we arrived at the Palatino Entrance near the Colosseum. A hot tip from the hotel concierge, this line moved much more swiftly than the monstrous tangle outside the Colosseum. A ticket purchased here enables visitors to visit all of the ancient ruins.

Following another siege of running through darkened tunnels, climbing enormous steps we were greeted by the staggering size of the Roman Colosseum.

 

It is a remarkable site, 360 degrees of stonework, arches and below the stage a maze of passages and tunnels. Organization does not seem to be one of the vanguards of Rome. A haphazard haze seems to cloak many of the major tourist venues. This iconic structure is void of any descriptions or historical explanations of what events took place here. While it is fascinating to behold, as a visitor you are more likely to learn about the Roman Colosseum from an episode of the History Channel.

 

We lunched at a splendid little restaurant called Chiuso on Via Dei SS Quatro. Under an umbrella our waiter Vitorrio revived us with a scrumptious portion of bruschetta. I opted for spaghetti Bolognese and Elene had the lasagna. Both dishes were light and delicious. The pasta was extremely flavorful, the sauce ignited the dish without overpowering it as do many of the rich dressings that Italian Restaurants pollute their meals with in the USA.

 

This little corner of Rome, was the apex of our journey to Italy. I am a firm believer that the truest essence of a city lives far away from the bustle. A light breeze rustled the leafy trellis at our table, the lemon yellow side of a building across the street, the quiet stillness of this golden sanctuary, were the special ingredients that made this respite very memorable.

 

Later that evening we capped off our tour of Rome with a fabulous dinner at the Tazio Restaurant at the Exedra. An amuse bouche of eggplant and mozzarella with a duo of drizzled soy and mustard, tantalized our taste buds. The entrée of Frutti di Mare was the best I have ever sampled. The sea food was fresh, tender and delicious. The restaurant takes its name from the daddy of Paparazzi, Tazio Secchiaroli. Across the walls in black frames are vivid images of resolute photographers grappling for pictures of their famous prey. One such picture depicts Marcel Mastroianni frantically eluding the lens of an oncoming camera man.

 

It seemed ironic to gaze at these pictures while not twenty feet outside the next generation of Paparazzi perched on wooden run ways waiting for the ‘shot’ of one of the stars at the Iron Man Premier. After our decadent Hungarian dessert of chocolate covered gnocchi and cream we stepped out to the klieg light filtered square to watch the excitement unfold. A rather sizeable crowd had appeared. Elene found a choice vantage point behind the entrance to the specially erected viewing stand. This unseen location led right into the cinema and afforded us a perfect view of anyone important that happened by.

 

We stood by patiently as cluster after cluster of no names strolled by thinking they were bees knees. Then there were those delirious screams of recognition. We leaned over the railing and the paparazzi were having a field day. Our patience paid off when a burgundy silk jacketed Terence Howard strolled by just ahead of his entourage.

 

Next up was the beaming face of actor/director John Favreau, smartly attired in a sharkskin suit. Elene promised she would yell “Rudy” and “Double Down” but, she was as quiet as a church mouse, but, still enthralled by the ebullience of the moment.

 

Up next the Iron Man himself graced the runway, Robert Downey Jr., his demeanor was more low key, but, the crowd eagerly welcomed him. The evening concluded with a crescendo of Hollywood Firepower when this stunning starlet sauntered by. The Italian men swooned and smiled wider than a giant pizza pie when Gwyneth Paltrow appeared. I’ve never particularly been a big fan, but, that all changed in those lightning charged moments.

 

She is a dazzlingly attractive lady, with a sweet engaging smile. After watching her graciously pause to sign autographs and smile for the camera, I had a new respect for her. Her thick blond hair swept behind her ear, and sexily sheathed in a black and white checkerboard dress, Gwyneth Paltrow delighted the crowd.

 

We will of course see Iron Man now and I’ll probably buy the soundtrack too, after hearing the bold and dynamic score booming over and over throughout the evening. We finished our last night in Italy with a Roman Candle of flickering joy.

 

We enjoyed our time in Rome, while not the favorite stop on our transatlantic tour. We encountered many friendly folks and were awe struck by the time worn and decaying relics of ancient days. There is a strange ferocity lurking in this city’s streets. Perhaps it is the ghosts of gladiators past, the spirit of chariots blazing at full throttle or the memories of power crazed emperors. Whatever it is it only lends itself to the overall awe, mystery and allure that has made Italian City live forever.

 

Jonathan

[mamaofami]

Jonathan, your vivid description brought back memories of my trip to Rome. What a wonderful city...alive with ancient history.

[Love the beach]

Jonathan, Thank you again for sharing your wonderful trip with us-- it is just awesome reading about it!!

[cruiserking]

Jonathan, your vivid description brought back memories of my trip to Rome. What a wonderful city...alive with ancient history.

 

Thank you very much Carol.

 

 

Jonathan, Thank you again for sharing your wonderful trip with us-- it is just awesome reading about it!!

 

Thanks Love the beach, it's great fun to write about. Elene and I will look forward to meeting both you and Carol aboard the Eurodam in August! :D

 

Jonathan

[cruiserking]

cruiseking -- Another winner. We'll retrace your foot steps in October; we are too lazy to try to go to Seville. I've been to Cadiz before and it's just the ticket after six ports in six days.

 

 

Hi Barante,

 

I agree with you, Cadiz is a great little town, very under rated. We experienced a lovely slice of old world Europe here, much more so than the marquee stops like Florence.

 

Jonathan

[innlady1]

Jonathan,

Thank you for taking us along on your journey! I've thoroughly enjoyed your travelogue. ;)

[cruiserking]

Jonathan,

Thank you for taking us along on your journey! I've thoroughly enjoyed your travelogue. ;)

 

Thanks very much Sheila, three more ports to cover, tomorrow is Casablanca.

 

Jonathan

[Sea Island Lady]

Looking forward to reading about the last three ports. ;)

 

You description of Rome has me all the more excited about my upcoming trip. :)

[cruiserking]

Looking forward to reading about the last three ports. ;)

 

You description of Rome has me all the more excited about my upcoming trip. :)

 

Thank you very much Sea Island Lady.

 

Between jet lag and reality it's been a little tougher to write, but, I'll have the Casablanca report today and the others will follow shortly thereafter.

 

Jonathan

[barante]

Cruiserking -- What a treat you have provided to all of us land lubbers. Thanis for taking us along on your journey. And thanks for sharing, even though you may have neglected your new bride a bit as a result. Kisses to her.

I am a professional writer but I am too selfish to do any blogging while I am on a cruise. And writing after the fact seldom conveys the true flavor of an experience because too many details are lost and forgotten.

Lots of happiness to your bride and you.

I'll leave you with an old English poem by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

 

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may;

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles to-day,

To-morrow will be dying

 

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,

The higher he's a-getting

The sooner will his race be run;

and nearer is he's to setting.

 

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times, still succeed the former

 

Then, be not coy, but use your time;

and while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime,

You may for ever tarry.

[cruiserking]

Casablanca

 

Peering through the curtain of our balcony I could just make out a large office building as the Noordam crept silently into the harbor at Casablanca.

 

In the onyx, dark of early morning as we slid silently to the pier what I thought was a building was in fact the enormous superstructure of a berthed freighter.

 

Everything moved at a languid pre-dawn pace as soundless cranes moved their payload into the bellies of leviathan cargo ships, the ghostly illumination of a fleet of florescent work lamps lit the piers with eerie effect.

 

They Do Things A Little Different in Morocco

 

At 7:00 am Elene and I sat in our tour bus waiting to be whisked away to Rabat. This morning however, our excursion did not move with the same alacrity as had our recent Lisbon jaunt. Our packed bus sat on the tarmac as a whirling dervish of activity transpired amongst the local Moroccan Authorities.

 

The Noordam Excursion Director consulted her manifest, several local policeman chatted, then out of a nearby window we noticed a pair of bomb sniffing dogs prowling around the chassis of our vehicle. After another ten minutes had elapsed a member of the ship’s excursion staff came aboard and informed us that we would be getting underway shortly, he made no reference to the professional pooches smelling the bus, but simply said, “We’ll be getting you folks off on your tour very shortly, sorry for the delay. They just do things a little things a little different in Morocco.”

 

In another moment our tour carriage lurched backward as another bus launched into gear making a very wide turn that came precious few inches from clipping the cab of our bus. Everyone let out a nervous chuckle, ‘yeah, they do things different around here.’ A minute later we had peeled away from the pier past the rusted hull of the Captain Meekov and off toward the capital city of Rabat.

 

Movie Magic

 

The allure and appeal of Casablanca stems mostly from the exotic notions manufactured by the classic Bogart & Bergman film. In reality this port is bereft of any of the mystique the Hollywood snake charmers have evoked. The magic spell of this faraway location pops immediately once your tour bus exits the cruise terminal. Casablanca is a study in dilapidated dingy grimness. It is rows of shanty huts with satellite dish engulfed roofs. It is decaying buildings, crumbling pavements, and a lingering sense of poverty and sadness.

 

The Hole in the Floor Gang

 

As we speed along a Moroccan world unfurls before us. We pass olive trees, grazing camels and dozing cows. At one point a pick up basketball game is interrupted when a farmer and his sheep take a short cut through the playground.

 

Thirty minutes into our excursion we made a quick pit stop just off the highway. The ladies and gents trooped off the bus and we made our way to the facilities. It was very clean, but different from what we’ve come to expect from similar restrooms back home.

A simple, porcelain rectangle in the floor. I have read posts about this previously on Cruise Critic, but, somehow got the impression that these hole in the floor receptacles were found more off the beaten track.

 

Then again a good portion of the Morocco we experienced was off the beaten track. They do things a little different here. All of the gentleman on our bus seemed to take it in stride, we were the strangers in the strange land, when in Rome and all that rot. Although, I had to chuckle at one older fellow who seemed rather bewildered by the whole affair. “Where’s the seat?!” he inquired in an unsettled and astonished manner.

 

Our first stop was at the Royal Palace in Rabat. A short stroll across an enormous square brought us to the main gates of the palace. A trio of guards stood by the entrance and allowed our group to snap their pictures from afar. Our view of the palace was very limited apparently the real beauty of this location is sequestered beyond the gigantic main arch. The classic Moroccan architecture of this onion shaped frontispiece conjured images right out of the Arabian Nights. The outer portion of the oval entrance is inlaid with radiant blue tiles and Arabic script running overhead. Directly across the way stood the Kings Mosque. A symphony of digital camera squeaks echoed as two separate guard units marched in unison in front of the palace arch.

 

Birds of Pray

 

At the Necropolis of Chellah we visited the ancient ruins of the Roman town Sala. Here strewn about were a series of remnants and tombs from this archaic civilization. The dominant feature amongst the crumbling rubble were the enormous storks who made their homes in the minarets and nearby trees. In Moroccan lore these birds are sacred and considered to bring luck. As they swooped from above their giant wingspans recalled images of prehistoric birds from another era. It seemed only fitting to watch these creatures existing in this primordial place.

 

The Unfinished Mosque

 

The most impressive sight of our afternoon in Rabat was the Hassan Mosque or the unfinished mosque as our guide Rad Wan referred to it. We strolled through an outer wall with a horse back mounted, gun clutching guard in each corner. The friendly fellows were amenable to photos each soldier also sported a nifty Fez. Elene promised she would buy me a Fez. I was pleased at the offer and looked forward to wearing it back home.

 

The original mosque design called for the minaret to be 80 meters high however, when then ruler, Yaqub Al Mansur, died in 1199 the construction grinded to a halt. An earthquake in 1755 further thwarted the monolith and its foundations have been compromised. The mosque is set back from a vast square that is dotted with a multitude of stone pillars that stand in silent sentry. Just opposite the mosque sits the mausoleum of Morocco’s first king Muhammad V. A rifle toting guard in red, with a white cape and blue cap stands at attention near the entrance. The interior portion contains stunning craftsmanship, a stain glass treatment in the dome glitters like a thousand gemstones buried in a mountain lair.

 

Come With Me To The Kasbah

 

After we ventured through the ornate Oudaia Gate we arrived at the slanted alleys and cobblestone streets of the Kasbah. This residential neighborhood dating back to the eleventh century featured ivory walls with an cool, aqua blue stripe running along the parapet. The calming blue walls are allegedly painted this way to subdue the mosquitoes. As we traipse along the silent coves of the Kasbah, there is an exotic and mysterious flavor behind every bend. The front doors here are works of art, many studded with iron bolts in a in box pattern that resembles a $ sign if you stare at it long enough.

 

Another bolt patterned door includes a bronze moth frozen in flight near the top, at the center a giant round knocker waits to summon the arrival of an unknown guest. Along the door frames are a sea of multi-colored tiles, everywhere there are potted plants, flowers, ceramic roof coverings, cast iron street lamps and always that refreshing blue line zipping in and out of this strange, inviting place.

 

The Tattooed Wife

 

Soon we are back aboard our bus speeding along towards Casablanca. Our guide has warned us throughout the day to be vigilant of peddlers, only a few have descended on us throughout the day. Just outside the Kasbah a couple of henna women scrawled a vile mud-like substance in a curly cue pattern upon the outstretched wrist of a lady in our group. Her husband’s temper flared when the three Euro price became five, the tattooed wife viciously scrubbed her wrist and succeeded in wiping away the wretched art. The Henna’s soon backed off and waited for their next victim.

 

The Big Store

 

It was good of Rad Wan to warn us, but, I think he also wanted us to save our shekels for the department store he was taking us to at days end. I had visions of a grand galleria mall hidden away in some squeaky clean corner of Casablanca. The department store however, was nothing more than a two bit, souvenir stand cluttered with dime a dozen, copper lanterns, cheap scarves and dozens of post cards and cheesy pottery. We browsed around the dusty shelves but, it wasn’t a total loss. Elene bought me a lovely red Fez and we also picked up a refrigerator magnet depicting a Muslim lady wandering through the blue and white walls of the Kasbah.

 

The cars in Casablanca zing back and forth like angry bees, somehow we made it across the street to our bus. At the time I didn’t consider our visit to Casablanca particularly rewarding. Elene enjoyed the chance to visit this distant culture. In retrospect though I’m glad I had a chance to visit Rabat and stroll through the Kasbah.

 

Casablanca however is another story. This is a depressing city. Many of the ports along our Mediterranean route were industrial but, this one in particular cast a strange pall over us. As I stood on our balcony looking at the bleak surroundings near the pier, it was like some unseen force had ripped through the fabric of our fantasy world. It was like being in the middle of a really great dream and then waking up to discover it’s really just Tuesday and you have to get a move on. In that hot, hazy, sun along that gloomy harbor it was just Tuesday. I couldn’t wait to set sail for the open seas and forget what day it was.

 

At dinner in the Vista that night through the aft window I watched as we pulled away from the harbor. The bright work lights soon became distant blurs, Casablanca faded in the Noordam’s bubbling wake as we set a course for Barcelona and I set my sights on the chilled soup offering for the night.

 

Jonathan

[barante]

Another classic!

[barante]

double post

[Freedom55]

I have been a silent "lurker" so far on this thread but I just had to post to say that this is the best thread I have EVER read on these boards! Thank you so much for the vicarious transatlantic trip. Your descriptions have made me feel that I was back on the Noordam and enjoying the service of its fabulous crew.

Thanks!

[cruiserking]

Cruiserking -- What a treat you have provided to all of us land lubbers. Thanis for taking us along on your journey. And thanks for sharing, even though you may have neglected your new bride a bit as a result. Kisses to her.

I am a professional writer but I am too selfish to do any blogging while I am on a cruise. And writing after the fact seldom conveys the true flavor of an experience because too many details are lost and forgotten.

Lots of happiness to your bride and you.

I'll leave you with an old English poem by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

 

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may;

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles to-day,

To-morrow will be dying

 

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,

The higher he's a-getting

The sooner will his race be run;

and nearer is he's to setting.

 

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times, still succeed the former

 

Then, be not coy, but use your time;

and while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime,

You may for ever tarry.

 

Thank you Barante for taking the time to post this excellent poem with a great message for us all. Thanks again for your kind words and good wishes.

 

What sorts of things do you write?

 

I have been a silent "lurker" so far on this thread but I just had to post to say that this is the best thread I have EVER read on these boards! Thank you so much for the vicarious transatlantic trip. Your descriptions have made me feel that I was back on the Noordam and enjoying the service of its fabulous crew.

Thanks!

 

Thank You - Freedom55 for the nice comments, I really appreciate it.

 

Speaking of silent lurkers, I was doing just that on your March 8 Noordam Roll Call. I really enjoyed your Noordam Picture of the Day feature, so much so that I incorporated a daily picture onto our Noordam Transatlantic Roll Call as well.

 

Jonathan