Cruise 2009 part 3 (Spain and Portugal)

The next two ports of call were in Vigo, Spain, and in Funchal, Portugal. We got geocaches in both of them.

Vigo

We had read on Cruise Critic that Vigo is such an "uninteresting place"... which cinched it for us. We knew without a doubt that this was going to be a great place to visit. We actually had three caches loaded into the GPS unit, but the map I printed for us had a somewhat larger scale than I realized, so we settled for just one of them, once we had climbed to the top of the hill (3/4 of a mile as the crow flies), scored the cache, and seen the beautiful historic castle with its lovely landscaping. I can see now why so few people from the cruise ships come up here, especially since they're mostly geriatrics, unlike GA and me. We're still young and spry.

Every once in a while you can get a really neat photo that just has that nice composition and subject matter. After logging the cache, we kept going up the hill and discovered this castle in Castro Park, which nobody had mentioned in the literature, but which made the climb worthwhile. As we got our first view, we saw this:


Man with dog overlooking the bay from the castle in Vigo. Photo by Wm

I don't care who you are or if you like the photo. Well, to be honest, I do care if you like the photo, because I like it. It's a nice photo. So if you don't like it, leave this blog right now and go watch your TV set, loser.

Now this one isn't quite as nice, because of the nasty graffiti, but I like the door, anyway. GA likes doors, and I think sometimes they make good pictures. We can pretend that the graffiti is historic, probably put there by the Spanish Inquisition.


Wm posing at a door in a Spanish castle in Vigo. Photo by GA.

You know, I'm reminded of one session of a seminar that I attended on the cruise. Some British guy was teaching us about digital photography, and he was trying to explain to us about the difference between photographs and art. Now, I will say that this guy took some very nice photos, and that I would consider them to be good art as well, but he was trying to tell us that a photograph is just a record of something you saw, while with art, you have to do something extra to it to make it art. But then he showed us a photo of a lake, which was beautiful, and he tried to claim that since he composed it with the reflection, that made it art - not realizing that he had just trashed his own definition. So I'm back with my original assumption about the subject: art is whatever the artist says it is, and it's entirely subjective, and entirely dependent on what the photographer intended.

This, for instance:


Bench overlooking pool, photo by Wm

That's a beautiful photograph. I didn't really intend it to be art, but I did intend to make it as pleasing as possible to the eye while capturing the reality of it all. But I could just as easily tell you that the empty bench is symbolic of the emptiness of the human condition, and it would be art. But who cares? It's both art and a nice photograph - unless I decide to enter it into a contest, in which case that bench holds the very meaning of life. Which, ahem, it does.

Now this, on the other hand, is indisputably art, because the stairs are a statement on man's climb toward greatness, safety, beauty, and spiritual renewal:

Stairs, photo (I mean art) by Wm

Part of the way back down to sea level, we stopped at Jackie's Cafetería. Here was yet another reason to strike out on our own, rather than follow the footsteps of other tourists from the ship. We were the only non-locals eating there, and with yours truly speaking only a little español, and our waiter speaking only a little inglés, we somehow managed to strike a deal as to lunch. GA had cabbage soup, as it turned out, and I had the hake platter. Both were delicious. For dessert, how could we not have flan con nata, washed down with espresso? Take my word for it that this was the best flan I have ever tasted in my short but eventful life.


After a lovely day of touring castles and practicing arty stuff, we eventually had to go back down to the lowlands, where we found this lovely sculpture, which is art, so that the photo is merely a record of existing art, and not art itself - except that I added something, so maybe it's art after all:


harB sitting in the lap of Jules Verne. Photo by Wm

Now why would Jules Verne be depicted here sitting on a giant squid? Because, dear readers, he favorably mentioned Vigo in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and is therefore beloved of all Vigans. The lesson is that if you ever write a book, mention some obscure little town somewhere, and they will make a statue of you, and hippos will climb on it some day.

Now this next one was absolutely intended to be art, as the sun set behind our cruise ship, and the sea life teemed:


The sun sets in Vigo. Photo by Wm


Funchal

In Funchal, we had three more possible geocaches, but really only intended to get two of them, the third requiring a cable car journey at some expense, and therefore to be used as backup in the event that we failed to find either of the first two. One of these was the Funchal Walkabout, which was very inefficient, strictly in terms of effort to get one little cache - but which was to serve as our tour guide, as it is a multi-cache, taking us to several interesting sites in Funchal, with puzzles to solve at each stage. And the other cache happened to be close to stage three of the multi-cache, so off we went.

Now most of these sites won't be listed on Wikipedia, but that's the point. When caching, you get to see things that are interesting, but which are not on an official tourist guide. Take this interesting little statue on a hidden street:


Statue hidden among buildings in Funchal, photo by Wm

All I can tell you is that each stage had something nice enough to visit. How about this door? I like doors, and they can make interesting photographs, or dare I say it... art? Yes, art. Why not?


Spanish door, behind which the Spanish Inquisition may have tortured a heretic centuries ago. Photo by Wm.

Or try this:


Wm on the Vagrant. Photo by GA.

Know what that is? That, my friends, is stage eight, with the final clue to the real cache. It is also the Vagrant, a yacht once owned by the Beatles. In this photo, I am standing on a spot on the yacht where it is virtually certain that all four of the Fab Four stepped at one time or another. I am therefore blessed among men, for I have trod where Ringo hath trod. (Cue choir music here).
Would I have found this historic vessel had I not been pursuing this cache? Possibly. Just possibly. But nobody else from the Independence knew about it. Pity them.

Still not convinced? OK, remember that second geocache I mentioned, that we picked up after the third stage of the multi-cache? It was placed near a restaurant. This restaurant, the Muralha (which means "the wall") had outdoor seating, and seemed to be as charming as anything you could want. So we ate there after completing the cache:


Wm holding his wine while gazing at his lady in admiration. Photo by GA

We enjoyed battered scabbard, with fried bananas, and it was the best nom noms you can imagine. It was such a sweet, exquisite fish, and it went so well with a local wine that I can't even describe the sheer gastronomic pleasure. I still feel a little faint, just trying to describe it.

Here is what the fish actually looks like:

Photo stolen from Wikipedia

OK, not so appetizing before cooking, but it sure tastes good on a plate.

And finally, here is a photo of the view from the final goal of that multi-cache, a lovely garden area overlooking our cruise ship, as it awaited our return:


The Independence of the Seas, docked in Funchal. Photo by Wm.

Next: the Days at Sea

Cruise 2009 part 2 (France)

We began the actual cruise on November 23rd. GA arranged for us to get to the ship from London by taking a limo service - well, actually a "private car service," using a van. This was actually cheaper than taking the cruise shuttle, because we shared it with three other cruisers, thus splitting it five ways. An added bonus was that the driver stopped at a grocery store on the way, so we could buy our liquid supplies, but mostly so we could buy me some McVities cookies, in the ginger nut and shortbread varieties.

Boarding wasn't bad at all, even with the fact that the Independence is a huge beast cramming 3800 passengers into its vast belly. The lines were long, but they moved quickly, and we were all processed efficiently.

We knew our cabin wouldn't be ready this early, but the Windjammer was open - that's the dining area where you can get just about anything from the buffet. On a previous cruise, we had made friends with some people on Cruise Critic, and it was great to see them in person. This time, for whatever reason, there were very few people we hit it off with on that discussion board. There were a few, mind you, but not so many - and they were hard to find on such a huge ship.

We made a brief tour of the ship, as best we could, bearing in mind that on a ship this size, you can't see everything with a brief stroll. There are three formal dining areas on the beast, on decks three through five, named "Romeo and Juliet," "MacBeth," and "King Lear" respectively. Of course, we were careful to refer to the one on deck four as the "Scottish Play dining room."


GA snickering at the name of the dining room on deck four. Photo by Wm

GA surprised me with a balcony on our cabin - a little more expensive, yes, but it certainly made the cruise even more pleasant, especially since a view of the sea is such a long hike from the inner cabins, and since they were usually crowded, with the chairs already taken most of the time.

The first full day of the cruise, we docked on the coast of France, and took the bus excursion to Paris. There, we saw the Eiffel Tower (of course) as well as dozens of sites in Paris seen from our bus windows, including the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, the Louvre, and the Champs Elyseese. At the tower, we were allowed to wander around on our own for a few hours, so we logged three geocaches, all within sight of the Eiffel Tower.


Wm, GA, and harB near the Eiffel Tower. Photo by unknown tourist.



The third of these caches was the Liberty Flame, a virtual cache, which means you get credit for it not by signing a physical log, but by taking a photo of yourself holding the GPS in front of it. This was not only the cache farthest from our home coordinates, but was also the farthest point we had ever been from our own front porch, since it was the farthest east of the bus waiting for us. 5,040 miles from home is a long way - this could be hard to beat. Everything after this on the cruise would be heading westward, toward home sweet home.


GA and harB at the Liberty Flame. Photo by Wm

While trying to discreetly log La passerelle avec une vue superbe, a woman came up to us to show us what appeared to be a gold ring which she had found. It was actually a brass ring, and she was trying to get us to accept it and then give her money as a reward. Several other folks on the bus later told us they had been approached with the same scam, but by different people.

The bus trip was a blast, partly because we were seated near that rare commodity, a British lady with a sense of humor. Our tour guide had been trying to tell us the history of France's involvement in WWII, and since we were a bus full of Americans and Brits, she was kind of stammering through it and trying to justify the fact that the French had given up without firing a shot and had simply let the Germans in to rule them. "Don't mention the war," said our British friend, reminding us all of that famous Fawlty Towers episode. Laughter broke out in the rear of the bus, and I'm sure the guide wondered what was so funny.

We had intended to find a little sidewalk café where we could have bread and wine and a rude waiter, but there weren't any cafés close enough to the tower to do that, so we had a delicious panini from a local vendor, and ate it while sitting on a park bench. Life is good.

Of course, life isn't perfect. Public toilets are not easy to find in Paris, but there was fortunately one placed very near the tower, but it was so busy that there was a traffic director stationed at the bottom of the stairs saying "one man," or "two women," whichever became available. Of course he said it in French, so it was "un homme" or some such. Hey, I don't speaka de French.

The architecture is beautiful in Paris, and the only problem I saw with it was that horrible, ugly glass pyramid in front of the Louvre. I cannot believe they have that eyesore in front of such a beautiful building.

The next day, the ship docked at another port in France, this time for our excursion to the American Cemetery, just above Omaha Beach. This was a solemn occasion. On the way back, our guide pointed out the cemetery where they buried the German soldiers. It was marked by a giant black cross, and we were told that the families of these soldiers were required to pay the burial expenses.

But the American Cemetery is treated with respect by the French, well cared for, and protected by French soldiers. It made me feel good.


Grave markers at the American Cemetery in France. Photo by Wm.


Next: Spain and Portugal