… to Hamilton, Bermuda …

… where everything is pinkish – the sand, the houses, the shorts! As we disembarked, the mouse shields on the tie ropes had an unexpectedly humorous message!

 

After six relaxing days at sea, we reached Bermuda. Bermuda is like a lovely postcard, filled with magnificent multi-million dollar homes. We took a boat cruise around the harbor and along the main roads in the island, seeing the estates and hearing a bit about the owners.

 

From the boat’s owners, Tammy who narrated the tour and her husband who sang Bermudian songs, we learned that John and Yoko Ono had visited Bermuda and liked it so well they settled in for a lengthy stay. In Bermuda, the rich and famous are everywhere, so they all blend in and can live ordinary lives. Non-Bermudians can’t buy property in Bermuda UNLESS it is expensive – in the $10M and up range. This keeps the riff-raff out. Who knew?!

 

Bermuda is still part of the British empire, although it recently adopted its own currency, the Bermuda dollar, which is currently worth a US dollar. US dollars are taken as payment everywhere. Bermuda is actually a group of about 140 separate islands; even the main island is actually a group of islands, connected by causeways and bridges. That island is only 22 miles long and about a mile and half wide.

One of the most spectacular homes belonged to Dr. James Martin, a computer guru and multi-millionaire who unfortunately died mysteriously last year in the waters off Agar’s Island, where the home is located. In his 1978 book, The Wired Society, Dr. Martin is credited with predicting the internet revolution. His home features a 300-year old Balinese temple, as well as features of the former British Army barracks and gunpowder store from the 19th century. We spied a huge old anchor and other relics recovered from the waters just off the island.  The boathouse and caretaker’s cottage looked like a lovely enough place to live!

 

Our cruise took us through some narrow straits, and showed several of the smaller, uninhabited islands. Anything which can sustain a tree of 3 feet or more is an island; the rest are simply rocks, most of which have names. The Bermuda government owns many of the islands and opens them to the public as recreational parks. A boat is essential to survival in Bermuda. Tammy also told us that although Bermuda is renowned for its pink beaches, very few Bermudians actually go to the beach to go swimming; they simply jump in the water wherever they are, off a dock or a boat.  

Two hurricanes hit Bermuda in one week this fall, leaving behind some debris. But the islands look remarkably unscathed. Clean-up has been swift as you would expect in a wealthy country where re-insurance (don’t ask me what that is) is the main business. Banking is another major business. Is Bermuda one of the “off-shore” places people refer to when sheltering money? No; according to Wikipedia, Bermuda came off the OECD grey list of off-shore tax havens in 2007.  It was previously known for its banking secrecy and low tax rates for foreign investments. Hmmmm….

 

From the deck of the Ocean Princess, we bid farewell to Bermuda and set sail for Ft. Lauderdale, two days away. What a fantastic way to spend December!

… ride the wild streets of Madeira …

… drawn in a sleigh by two burly tobaggan men. A sleigh ride is so Christmasy! We docked in Madeira on a gorgeous warm sunny day, and were whisked up the steep hillside in a gondola, providing a great view of the island below. The slope doesn’t seem to bother the locals; many houses seem to have no visible means of entry, clinging to a patch of ground far from any roads.

 

Everyone grows something in Madeira. We saw banana plantations, vineyards, flower gardens, vegetable patches and kapok trees with their hanging bunches of fibers on our way up to Monte, the small village at the top of the hill. We had some free time to admire the formal gardens there before boarding a wicker sleigh of our own. And to bolster our courage, we each had a shot of a potent local honey liqueur called Poncha da Madeira.

 

We sized up the drivers – fairly young and beefy! Perfect! Trust me, you want someone in great shape to control the sled on its way downhill. The drivers each bring their own heavy rope which they attach to the sides of the runners. They give the sleigh a push at the top of the hill – not unlike a bobsled team’s start – and then hop on the back runners, providing extra weight for more speed. They lean to steer the sleigh as it navigates the many twists and sharp turns in the street – and to avoid cars and tourists in the way! Midway through the ride there’s a slow level patch, and the drivers jump off and pull the sleigh until the slope turns down again and they can jump back on.  

 

Our guide said there were no sleighs for three. So Sally and I hopped into the next one and began our wild ride. Although Sally’s eyes are open in the photo taken half-way down, that was a lucky shot! At the bottom of the hill we waited more than half an hour for Frank. They were waiting for a new truck filled with sleighs, which ironically included a three-person sleigh!

The next stop was a scenic overlook at Miradoura Pico dos Barcelos. Back on the bus we rode to the city center for a tasting of fine Madeira wine at Blandy’s winery. In business since 1811, and housed in an old monastery, the winery makes four types of madeira: sweet, medium sweet, dry and medium dry. Mmmmm…. We also learned about the history of cork and how it is harvested; cork is the bark of the tree, and can be safely removed every 11 years or so. It has become an expensive alternative to leather in the making of hats, shoes, wallets, and all sorts of other products, many of which can be found in the shops in Madeira.

 

We strolled through the municipal gardens – not too many plants in bloom this time of year but charming little Christmas houses – then stopped for a nice outdoor lunch of local delicacies at Apolo Café. We ordered a variety of their “special toasts” – aka in other places as sandwiches on toast! The waiter returned to tell us that the kitchen was new and they wouldn’t be able to make any of the toasts except for tomato or cheese. That made our choice simple. 

We headed back to the ship, stopping to browse in a few shopping malls along the way. What a day! Next up … six days at sea!!! We’re ready!

… to “the Rock” …

… of Gibralter, for some monkey business. Looking just like a Prudential ad, the rock is a limestone cliff. It separates Africa from Europe, and links the Atlantic Ocean with the Mediterranean Sea. Far from being “solid as a rock,” the rock of Gibralter has become a honeycomb of caves and tunnels. One of the earliest inhabited places in all of Europe, during prehistoric times Gibralter may have been one of the last Neanderthal settlements. Its recorded history began in 950 BC with the Phoenicians. Now a British colony of less than 3 square miles, Gibralter is located at the tip of the Spanish Iberian peninsula, at the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea. The name comes from “Gebel Tarik” or Tariq’s Rock, named for the Moorish army leader who came from North Africa to begin the conquest of Spain for Islam. Only slightly less important, John Lennon and Yoko Ono were married in Gibralter in 1969. It looked serene as we arrived early in the morning.

Our excursion turned out to be a bit of an endurance test. A van took us to the cable car for a ride to the top of the Rock. We reached an observation platform, where a special treat was watching an EasyJet plane land on one of the world’s shortest and most dangerous runways.

 

We walked along the steep and hilly ridge, stopping to visit with Gibralter’s most famous residents, the Barbary apes. Not really apes, they’re actually tailless monkeys, or macaques, which originally came from Africa. Local folks believe the British will keep the Rock only as long as the Barbary Apes remain. During WWII, aware of this belief, Winston Churchill imported additional monkeys from North Africa.

  

The apes are fed oranges and other fruits on top of the rock, partly to keep them from coming to the city to forage for food. After time spent watching the apes, including seeing one ape trampoline off the shoulders of a fellow passenger, we continued our walk along the ridge toward St. Michael’s Cave. As we neared the cave, our tour guide received a phone call telling him that he was taking us on the wrong tour and we weren’t supposed to visit the cave. He’d already gotten tickets, so we proceeded on into the cave, noted for its fantastic stalagmites and stalactites.

 

We re-boarded the van for a ride to a steep hill leading to the Siege Tunnels, which were blasted out of the Rock during the British defense of Gibralter against the Spanish and French in 1779 to 1783. One of the British generals got the idea to create tunnels in the rock itself, and to place guns at strategic locations to defend the harbor. These tunnels proved a great success and were re-occupied and greatly enlarged during WWII. The path through the tunnels was long and steep, plunging down into the mountain. Unfortunately, there is only one entrance, so what walks down must trudge up again.

Our guide assured us that we would see “everything” because of the tour mix-up. Everything included a stop at the Gibralter Museum, to look at the remains of a 14th century Turkish bath excavated in the museum basement, and a fascinating Neanderthal exhibit. Based on research done in Gibralter, current beliefs are that the Neanderthals co-existed and even interbred with modern man. Reconstructed Neanderthal skulls found in Gibralter caves look amazingly like modern man.

The tour continued with a trip to the Europa Flats lighthouse, followed by a drive along the eastern coast of Gibralter. The guide dropped us back in town at the main square, where we ate a lunch of Sunday Roast, the local specialty, at an outdoor café.

 

A day in Gibralter: 13,000 steps and more than 30 flights of stairs! Pear cider:  optional, but delicious.

… discover two strange Catalonian Christmas traditions …

… which are certainly different from ours! The good-natured vendor in Palma de Mallorca couldn’t explain to us the significance of the smiling logs or crouching figures, but he seemed happy to write down the names of both for us in Spanish. I couldn’t wait to investigate further. We had bought a crouching pooping Sponge Bob Square Pants and a similarly engaged Mario for the grandsons, who are solidly into their potty humor phase. Regardless of the deeper meaning we were sure they would enjoy the concept of both characters pooping.

 

It turns out that the crouching figures are known as “Caganer,” or the Poopers. The Catalonian tradition is to place them in the nativity in a somewhat hidden location; the children try to find the pooping figures in the scene. No word on what the prize may be to the lucky finder, but these figures are reportedly everyone’s favorite nativity figures. And is is unlucky not to have at least one caganer in your nativity! The significance is a little murky but had something to do originally with ensuring fertility and abundance for the crops.

Caganers today come in every possible variety – it’s an honor as a celebrity to have a caganer designed in your likeness. We saw the Pope, nuns, footballers, Santa, Queen Elizabeth, even a person designed to look like a Gaudi mosaic – with an appropriate mosaic poop! And we also saw another type of figure relieving themselves …

 

Rather horrified by this tradition, we checked out the little logs, called “Caga Tio.” Caga is actually pronounced “Ca-Ca” in Spanish. Think about that... It turns out that the Caga Tio tradition is even stranger than the Caganer.

 

Caga Tio is a substitute for Santa Claus or Father Christmas – with a few important differences. “Tio” means “Uncle” - and it also means log; “Caga” means “poop” so Caga Tio translates to “Poop Log.” Parents bring home a Caga Tio, and the children look after him from the 8th of December until Christmas Eve. They feed him orange peel and turron, a nougat candy, every evening, and cover his rear end with a nice red blanket to keep him warm. Clever parents swap out small Caga Tios for ever larger ones to show the kids their work is paying off – the log is actually growing! And they feed him well because - the more they feed him, the more presents he will “poop out.”

But he apparently needs a little persuasion. So on Christmas Eve, after weeks of feeding Caga Tio and making sure he is warm under his blanket – ahh, so sweet -- the kids are given a stick or cane to beat Caga Tio with. While they’re beating him, they sing a little song that goes something like this: “Poop log, poop turron, hazelnuts and cottage cheese. If you don’t poop well, I’ll hit you with a stick, poop log.” The parents place wrapped presents in the blanket for the children to find. Here’s our tiny caga tio … we will not be beating him!

 

Doesn’t this put you in the Christmas spirit? Don’t take it from me, do your own research. These customs are apparently widespread in Spain, and extend to parts of Italy and Portugal. Even more amazing, they’ve been around since the 17th century! And this is why we travel…. !

… to Palma de Mallorca …

… one of the Balearic Islands, settled during the Bronze Age around 2000 BC. Early natives hunted using leather slings or “ballo,” giving the islands their name. Father Junipero Serra was born in Mallorca, leaving to work in Mexico and California as a missionary and mission founder. Famous tourists like Frederic Chopin and George Sand helped popularize the island, and Joan Miro did some of his finest work while staying there. It’s a very hilly place, filled with stairs and steps. 
Curiously, Princess offered no excursions in Palma, although there is clearly a lot to see and do. It was a lovely day, sunny and warm, so we took a hop-on bus near the port, and rode it to the Plaza Mayor Christmas crafts market. This market had many stalls filled with intricate pottery sculptures of people working at various tasks. Although I didn’t actually see a librarian, I’m sure there was one! A bonus was spotting two nearby buildings designed by Gaudi.
 
After spying more crouching figures and smiling logs at a larger market at Plaza Espanya, I finally asked one of the vendors to write down the Spanish names of these two local customs so I could do some online research. Our nutritious lunch consisted of fresh roasted cashews and hot sugared churros from market vendors!
  
Driving through the city, the bus took us up onto the mountain past the imposing Bellver castle and the Spanish village, then back to the immense cathedral, La Seo, one of the world’s largest Gothic style churches.
 
Under construction for more than 300 years, the cathedral was finally completed in 1587. Antoni Gaudi remodeled the interior in the early 20th century, designing beautiful rose windows and an intricate and unusual wrought-iron canopy or baldachino over the main altar. 
   
The city is a contrast in styles; because of its long history of domination by outsiders, it includes Greek, Roman, Moorish and Spanish influences. Next door to the cathedral is the equally-imposing Moorish alcazar or palace, Almudaina, an 11th century building converted into a royal palace in later centuries. The only remnants of Roman Palma are a few walls in this castle.
  
As we sailed out of the harbor, a never-ending string of sailboats returned to the marina. It was a beautiful ending to a fabulous day!

… to Gaudi’s Barcelona …

… in the rain. In Civitavecchia and Livorno, everyone told us that the current sunny weather was the first sun after quite a spell of rain. The rain caught up to us in Barcelona. We hadn’t scheduled any excursions, planning to do our own thing. That thing consisted of using the Hop-On Hop-Off bus as transportation to all the places we wanted to go during the day.

The first thing that caught our attention was a Christmas market, and we hopped off the bus at Plaza Major to check it out. We discovered a few interesting things ... and some perplexing ones as well. Many figures are made for the very elaborate Spanish nativity scenes, which often represent not just the manger scene, but the entire village of Bethlehem, including shops and houses. And among the figures on the shelves at the Christmas market were shelves of figures crouching, with their pants pulled down, and a pile of – poo – on the ground! The figures appeared next to the wise men and the angels, Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus.

 

And at almost every stand there was a display of a jolly little log with two front legs, a smiley face and a bright red hat. They came in a variety of sizes, from one as long as a finger to a two foot piece of wood. We didn’t understand the meaning of either one.

 

After making a few purchases to decorate our cabin, we hopped back on the bus to visit Casa Batllo, the home built on then-trendy Passeig de Gracia by Gaudi for a prominent family. Unlike any other house ever built, it’s now considered a reference point of Modernism.

 

   

Taking our time to explore every nook and cranny left us hungry and needing a rest. We found a lovely restaurant just down the street and settled in for a leisurely lunch.  Fortified and rested, we headed off again, this time to Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s crowning achievement, a cathedral which has been under construction since 1882. It features drip-castle spires and breath-taking stained glass windows. The windows are still under construction, with more of them completed each time we’ve visited.

 

Directly across the street from Sagrada Familia was another Christmas market. We browsed the many stands, and once again saw the crouching figures and the cute little logs.

We rode the Hop On bus around Barcelona, up to Montjuic, and through many neighborhoods. Tired and a bit wet, we finally called it a day and went back to the ship to dry out and relax.