Split

Our week on the Atlantia ended this morning. A minibus picked us up in Omise (??) and drove us the short distance to Split, where we parted company with the other passengers–hugs all around and promises to email. We really lucked out–the crew was exceptional and the passengers were uniformly great companions!

The old city of Split is more extensive than we anticipated, and no taxis or cars are allowed; it is entirely pedestrian. Our minibus left us on the edge of the old city, and we wheeled our luggage past the dock and into a labyrinth of structures that had once been the huge, sprawling castle built by Diocletian. A couple of questions of helpful passersby and we found it.

We are staying at the Vesibul Palace, a sleek, contemporary, 11 room hotel carved out of the walls of Diocletian’s palace. So far, Split is spectacular. We wandered through tiny, winding “ways” lined with cafes and shops and bars; unlike the islands, where one or two places might have Internet, hot spots are–incongruently–everywhere in this nearly 2000-year-old city.

And like everywhere we’ve been in Croatia, it is stunningly beautiful.

Not only is the country physically magnificent, we are repeatedly impressed with the people. One illustrative example: I went into an Internet cafe yesterday, and prepared to pay, when the owner noticed that I had my IPad and needed only wifi. “It will be better for you to go to cafe” he told me, motioning to one down the street. “with a coffee, wifi will be free as long as you need.” This sort of thing has happened over and over. Tips elicit seemingly heartfelt thank-yous.

If you are reading this and come to the conclusion that we really, really are impressed with Croatia, you’re right.

What I Learned on My Summer Vacation

This is the last full day of our cruise, and it is raining–something that distresses Tom, who tells me that climate change has affected weather patterns in Croatia. He insists it never rained two days in a row during the summer season until very recently. (We have had rain on this cruise, but so far, at night or a brief shower.)

Tomorrow, we go to Split, where we will have three days before heading home via Rome.

Bob and I are both glad we came to Croatia. There may be a more beautiful place somewhere on the planet, but somehow I doubt it. Certainly, there can’t be one with nicer people.

This has been our longest trip ever. So–as our adventure nears conclusion, what have I learned on my summer vacation?

Well,  first, there is the obvious: people in Europe are much thinner, and if looks can be trusted, much healthier. They are also far more likely to be bi or tri-lingual, probably as a result of living closer together, and the demands of tourism and commerce.

Then there are more impressionistic lessons, with the caveat that the plural of anecdote is not data, and the people with whom we interacted cannot be assumed to be representative.

Unlike in the US, we have encountered no one who expressed contempt for education; no one who sneeringly dismissed expertise or intellect as ‘elitist.’ I have also been struck by the nature of informal political discussion and debate–I have heard lots of “these people make a good point, but those who disagree also have a point”–arguments employing much  less name-calling and much more consideration of the merits of competing arguments and points of view.

Then there were the issues we were questioned about repeatedly: American gun laws, the large numbers of people who reject evolution and global climate change, and America’s incomprehensible lack of a universal medical system. These aspects of American culture do not evoke admiration, to put it mildly–although people are generally too polite to criticize  directly. Instead, they ask questions, trying to understand why we haven’t joined the rest of the western world.

These questions have reminded me once again that ‘American exceptionalism’ originally referred to our outlier status, to sociological distinctiveness– not to some assumed superiority. Heretical as it may seem, there is the possibility there are some things we could learn from others.

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The Old (Wo)man and the Sea

I am learning–painfully–to exist in a world of intermittent internet, and to seek out hot spots and internet cafes when possible (i.e., when in port.) In Dubrovnik, we found a small cafe in what would have been an alley at home, but in this city of small warrens perched precariously on hills, was a thriving commercial way. 

The price for an hour’s connectivity was 20 kuna (seems high until you realize that converts to around 3 dollars), and the young man in charge could not have been more helpful. That made me feel even worse when I threw up in the only bathroom–I evidently caught a bug, and that episode began a rather embarrassing series of times I proceeded to “decorate” the Aegean coast.

I was still feeling uneasy when we boarded our boat,The Atlantia. We settled into our cabin (approximately the size of our bedroom’s walk-in closet) and were sitting on the back deck getting acquainted with the other passengers, when the boat took off in what I was to learn was a (thankfully) unusually rough sea. Let me just say I did NOT make it to my tiny en-suite bathroom.
The crew could not have been nicer or more helpful, and later that day, I would discover that one of our fellow passengers is a doctor. Thanks to her tube of magic pills and a much calmer sea (and the evident passage of whatever it was I’d caught), things on that front improved dramatically.

Every trip has its surprises; in this case, it has been the boat and crew of the Atlantia, and the surprises have all been wonderful.

If the crew of three has a motto, it is “no problem.” Whatever we need, whatever we ask, is “no problem.” Moreover, they are all amicable, personable, and just plain nice. Dom, the captain, and Ivan (who may be his brother, we aren’t sure) are handsome young men who seem to speak a number of languages, as does Tom, the cook.

Tom is older, and the biggest surprise. To call him a cook is an insult; even calling him a chef doesn’t do him justice. We found out that this trip isn’t his day job–off-season, he and his son run a large catering operation out of Zagreb. The ship provides breakfast and lunch, and the quality of the meals has been absolutely superb; local seafood, homemade pastas, wonderful fresh breads….we think they are missing a potential market by failing to advertise this as a gourmet cruise!

Another pleasant surprise has been the other passengers. As I noted in my last post, there are 11 of us: five French, four Australians, and us. The French include Natalie (the miracle doctor), her husband Bruno and son Paul, and two single women friends, Isabel and Michelle. Bruno and the other women are all in pharmaceuticals and evidently worked together for many years at Pfizer. The women look  just like we all think French women look like–not just slender, but svelte, with great figures. If they weren’t all so nice, I’d hate them. Paul, Bruno and Natalie’s 14 year old, is one of the most pleasant children I’ve been around–sunny and polite. All the French speak halting English–much better than the rest of us speak French.

One Australian couple is young–both engineers. The other is a couple a bit younger than Bob and I. Neil is a retired engineer, and against all odds, Barbara is a retired professor of public administration! We have had a great time comparing governmental structures and public policies.

(Speaking of policy, discussions with our fellow passengers–as well as the student I mentioned in my last post-have all included questions about US gun laws, which all other people seem to find absolutely mystifying. It is hard to explain the concerns of the NRA to civilized people .)

Our daily routine is as follows: we have breakfast at 8, then most of us lie sunning on the white mattresses on the ship’s bow. Others read or kibbutz. Most take swims in the sea, which is crystal-clear (Paul dives right off the bow). Yesterday, Ivan lost his cell-phone overboard, and they all dived for it. They could see it clearly on the bottom, although it was too deep to reach. 

We then have lunch, and sail to our next scheduled port. We go into the island (so far, they are magnificent–old, old cities, flowers everywhere, shops and restaurants), returning to the boat at our leisure, since it stays moored until the next day, when we do it all again.

Umm…remind me why I am coming home? 

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Sporadic Posting, Unconnected Observations

We left the Villa Fabrioni and the attentive hosts Sergio and Stefano, and after a night in Florence in a surprisingly good hotel near the train station (booked purely for convenience), we took a day-long train trip, first to Bologna where we spent a few hours marveling at the architecture, then on to Bari where we were to catch the ferry to Dubrovnik.

We had a momentary scare when the board first announced that our train was 50 minutes late, amid a number of “cancelletos.” But our train did in fact appear, and only 20 minutes late. While we were waiting, we struck up a conversation with a lovely young student from Argentina who–during our talk–asked me whether most young Americans were like those she met traveling. She tried to be diplomatic, but basically was appalled at how ignorant our college-age students were–not just about other countries and cultures, but about their own. She did not find this among her peers from other countries. It was difficult to argue with her perceptions, although I could assure her that there ARE bright and educated young people in the US. I must agree, however, that they are a minority, and that doesn’t bode well for our future.

And speaking for the impression left by our citizens, as we waited for the ferry, we met a truly embarrassing man from Florida. He took great pains to impress us–I assume he tries to impress everyone he meets, he seemed the sort–and he was everything we used to mean by the term “Ugly American.” He said he’d been coming to Italy for 20 years, and it was awful and getting worse. The decline, we found, was due to immigration, “just like at home.” I heard him talking to an English-speaking Italian woman about how dangerous the “dark people” were, and in lowered tones about Obama and his “socialism.” He told me he was an ex-Marine, so he knew how dangerous the Italians were (if he’d been describing their driving, fair enough, but he wasn’t), and proceeded to show me the knife he always brought to protect himself and his wife. All in all, a perfectly appalling specimen.

We got to Dubrovnik early the next morning, after a trip on a pretty gross ferry, and everything you have read about Dubrovnik is true. It is magnificent. The old city is a world heritage site, restored by Unesco, and it defies description. unfortunately, every tourist in the world has also read about it. The crush of tourism is unbelievable, and while a boon to the local economy, subtracts from the overall experience a bit.

At 2 in the afternoon, we boarded our small boat. We had worried because it only carries 12 passengers, and there are a lot of young, boisterous party people who choose to travel this way. We lucked out. We have 11 on board; five French, four Australians and us. Most are in their late forties or fifties, so we don’t feel QUITE so old. The trip has been fantastic so far, and I will write about the trip, the passengers–educated, thoughtful, and really nice–the next time I have internet.

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Disconnection from the Collective

Okay–I’ll admit it. I’m addicted.

Those of you who are Star Trek fans will recall the Borg–the species without individuals, who could not survive when severed from the Collective. I think I may be going in that direction. We lost internet two days ago (the whole village experienced an outage), and I felt utterly helpless.

Without internet, how could I look up information? How could I blog? What emails were going unanswered? To say the experience was anxiety-producing would be an understatement.

There are lessons to ponder, and not just that we may be becoming Borg-like. What would happen if a terrorist–or accident–took down the internet, or some substantial portion of it? We have created systems–banking, policing, communicating, etc. etc.-that simply would shut down if computerized systems no longer worked. Not to mention the psychic shock to our increasingly interconnected social systems.

I am one of those people who welcome change. Generally, I think technological innovation aids human progress. But I have to admit that our increasingly wired world has made it more difficult to disconnect, to be alone with our own thoughts and selves for extended periods of time. There is much research–and concern–that suggests these new technologies may be changing brain patterns in unanticipated ways.

In any event, I will have to cope with the experience for over a week, since it is unlikely that the small boat we will take from Dubrovnik will have wifi.

Blogging will be VERY spotty until we return to the US in early August. I know all of you will be fine–there’s plenty of other reading available to the connected.

If the last two days are any indication, I’m not so sure that I’ll make it.

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