Ireland had been a country that we had wanted to visit for some time.  Along with purchasing books on the subject and discovering authentic Irish hats and wearing them proudly and observing St. Patricks’ Day with a pint of Guinness…or maybe two.  I think that perhaps Ireland was the most anticipated stop of our cruise around the United Kingdom and Ireland.  We docked at the Republic of Ireland which covers five-sixths of the Irish Island.  The Republic of Ireland is a sovereign nation and its’ currency is the euro while Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom and its’ currency is the pound.   Our first stop was the town of Waterford which is the home of the renowned Waterford Crystal.  We toured the House of Waterford and marveled at the craftsmen’s expertise.  

Waterford Crystal had actually been shuttered for a few years due to financial issues but had been re-opened and purchased by the employees.  After our extensive tour of the House of Waterford and some necessary acquisitions we took a guided tour of Dublin Castle.  This group was led by the best tour guide I have experienced…this young woman simply brought the castle and its’ rich history to life with her detailed accounts of what had transpired in the past within the castle walls and the lively current history of the edifice including the up-coming visit of Secretary of State Hillary Clinton alone with fifty foreign ministers scheduled for December 2012.  Her moving account of Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh visit in May 2011 and the historical significance of the Queen recognizing the sovereignty of the Republic of Ireland was palpable.  

Our guide said that especially the Queen beginning her remarks in Gaelic was an honor to the Irish.

 At one point she was trying to recall an american movie and she asked the crowd of mostly americans if we could tell her the name of it…as the silence was permeating I said in a low voice…This is Spinal Tap…and she exclaimed that I was correct.  I have never seen the movie.

We had a delicious lunch of fish and chips at a local pub.  It was extremely full of happy people and one not so happy person.  As we were crowded against a table of young men who were throughly enjoying their Guinness I noticed that they regularly bumped against our table…with no ill will…just full of joy of life.  Thus when the opportunity availed itself we moved to a table with a little more room,  I looked up to see a gentleman glaring at me as he drank at the bar…and I really think he thought we were being disrespectful in some way.  However I returned to my delicious lunch and he left…ships passing in the night of different cultures.

Our bus tour guide told us that drinking and driving had become so prevalent in Ireland that there had recently been instituted a zero tolerance of it.  At almost the conclusion of our tour our guide sang Danny Boy…and her rendition added such a personal touch to our short visit that it brought goose bumps to the audience.  

There is a reason that everyone is Irish on St. Patricks’ Day…Ireland is a beautiful, magical, mysterious land that permeates the soul of its’ inhabitants.  

We had talked about it for roughly ten years.  The last time we had a family discussion regarding a trip to the United Kingdom…we chose Maine instead.  Now do not misunderstand me, Maine, is wonderful and we have since returned there for a repeat of what was an outstanding holiday.  However we seemed to never settle on our UK adventure…until we did.  In August 2012 we flew from the United States to London Heathrow Airport where we caught a shuttle to our hotel.  Upon arriving at the hotel, once again… this being our second transatlantic flight, we felt somewhat zombie like.  Thus we thought a traditional English Breakfast would be in order.  How delightful and delicious with plump sausages, blood pudding, and baked beans we ate our fill with workmanlike proficiency .  Now we were beyond sleepy.  As we sat on a couch in the ornate reception area Mary Jane was told that our rooms would not be ready for several hours.  I wondered if we looked somewhat like the characters from the old television show the Beverly Hillbillies?  I received my answer when I told the smartly dressed hotel professional that we had no where to go and were much to tired to do so if we did and therefore she could find us on the couch for the duration of our multi-hour wait.  She suddenly found our rooms…all clean and ready for our arrival.

We had arrived at the beginning of the 2012 Summer Olympic Games held in London.  As we flipped on the  television in our room we quickly noticed that the coverage from the British point of view looked like a different Olympics than what we had been watching just before we left the US.  Soon sleep overtook me and the events of the time prior to our embarking consisted or much needed rest and a lovely Indian meal at the hotel restaurant.  

We boarded the Princess Ocean Liner at Dover…and the cliffs really are white.  The ship was the smallest in Princess fleet and held under seven hundred passengers.  By contrast the Caribbean Princess that we had sailed on twice is one of the fleets largest vessels holding over four thousand passengers.  I thought that the smallness of the ship would be enjoyable…not so many opportunities to get lost.  Later during our voyage I discovered that there was a drawback to being a small vessel…but that is for another blog.  

Our first stop was the island of Guernsey.  It is a British Crown dependency.  It was liberated from Nazi Germany on May 9, 1945.  Guernsey had its’ own currency or the Guernsey pound…but we were cautioned on ship to insist on trading in British pounds as the Guernsey pound was virtually unusable anywhere  but Guernsey.  We toured fort Grey and marveled at the gun casements and the cannonball that was forever lodged in the wall of the fort.  We stood in rapt attention as the cannon was shot at noon sharp…as it is every day for hundreds of years by persons dressed as british soldiers from the era when the practice began.  

We also discovered that the famous author Victor Hugo lived in Guernsey.  Also that the island was famous for its’ ice cream…of which we partook, but insisted in paying in British pounds.  

I have chosen in this series to jump around a bit and so comes our bus tour of Scotland that culminated in the fascinating Inveraray Castle.  If you are a fan of Downton Abbey, as we are, you may recall the Christmas 2012 episode where the Grantham family visit the home of their cousins in Scotland called in the episode Duneagle Castle.  

Inveraray Castle is the home of the Duke of Argyll who is the chief of the Campbell Clan since the seventeenth century.  Our tour guide was a delightful woman of respectable age who simply brought Scotland alive with her lilting speech and stories.  As we rode through the Scottish country side I think that I have never seen such natural beauty.  

As we drew nearer the castle our tour guide began to be more excited.  She cautioned us that indeed the current Duke and his family did reside at Inveraray and that if we were lucky he might come down to greet us.  She went on to instruct us that we must not say, “How ya doing duke?”  But rather we should refer to him as, “Your Grace.”  So, with much fear and trepidation at the prospect of really meeting royalty we arrived and soon discovered that the Duke had not only agreed to come down but that he was assisting in the gift shop.  

The castle is a magnificent structure.   

Seeing the Duke dressed in his apron that said “Duke” on it was somehow reassuring as was his strange expression when I referred to him as Your Grace.  

On August 11, 2014, the actor and comedian Robin Williams died.  He was found by his assistant with a leather belt around his neck and slightly suspended in a seated position.  The immediate reaction across the world was shock and disbelief.  He had battled depression most of his life along with a recent open heart surgery and the beginning stages of Parkinson Disease. 

When I heard the news of Mr. Williams death…I was sad and felt a sense of loss.  I have reflected on this unusual feeling, in that I had never met him, and have since concluded that he had a special gift to touch those he encountered through his performances.  I think it goes without saying that he was a lightning wit when it came to the difficult comedic art form of improvisation.  Much as his mentor, Jonathon Winters, he had the ability to take any subject and extemporaneously create an involved intricate world and subsequently invite the listener into an experience that was totally unique.  But, it was more than that.  Mr. Williams was able to project a caring humanity that those who encountered him knew instinctively was not only real but came from a man who understood suffering and trouble and pain.

Robin Williams connected from an inner genius that he did not learn at Juilliard.  In the movie Dead Poets Society he said, “We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute.  We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.  And the human race is filled with passion.  And medicine, law, business, engineering these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.  But poetry, beauty, romance, love , these are what we stay alive for.”  

Mr. Williams range as an actor was incredible.  His role in the 2002 movie Insomnia as the paperback crime novelist Walter Finch was chilling.  Or in One Hour Photo the creepy character of Seymour “Sy” Parrish who has developed photos of the Yorkin family since their son was a baby.  His ordinary demeanor portrayed through Mr. Williams understated acting illustrated the hidden dangers that can be as close as the one hour photo in any of our suburban communities.  Mr. Williams could draw from darkness…that he fled throughout his life.  

In 2004 Robin Williams visited with Koko the gorilla.  Koko communicates in a modified version of American Sign Language and even understands some spoken words.  Their playful interaction illustrates Mr. Williams ability to relate and empathize with another living being.  

Koko cried when she was told of Mr. Williams death…and we did as well.  

On Saturday, August 9 Michael Brown was shot and killed by a Ferguson, Missouri police officer.  The police say that Mr. Brown was unarmed but that he reached for the officer’s gun.  A witness to the shooting states that, “I saw the police chase him…down the street and shoot him down.”  Community protests have been ongoing since the incident with troubling police actions.  Two journalist with the Washington Post and the Huffington Post were arrested as they were filing their reports in a local McDonalds with one having his head banged against a window…and then being sarcastically apologized to by the officer.  St. Louis Alderman Antonio French was arrested after receiving national attention from his interviews and social media reports.  Al Jazeera journalist were teargassed and their video equipment dismantled by the Ferguson police.  

The frightening reality of these incidents is that it is not in the war torn middle east…but in the heart of the United States…the mid-west.  Without police protecting and serving our communities we would be a country of chaos and anarchy.  But isn’t that what has been transpiring in Ferguson, Missouri?  All of the protests have not been peaceful…in fact there has been some looting and rock throwing and dangerous tension filled moments for both the police and protestors.  Truth and justice of what happened with Mr. Brown and the officer who felt it was necessary to use deadly force..is for the courts to decide…but the reality of the extreme hurting of the residents of Ferguson cannot be denied.  How would you feel if your son had been shot to death?  The protestors are not all black…there are white residents of Ferguson protesting also.  Is it all right to treat some communities with more force than others?  Then is it also correct in difficult incidents of the exercise of free speech to decline those rights to the press…who were white?  The name Al Jazeera does not leave many americans with a warm and fuzzy feeling…so can we assume that the rights of free speech and assembly does not apply to them?  

Last night Missouri Governor Jay Nixon removed the Ferguson police from the job of security for the protests and installed the Missouri State Police with Captain Ronald Johnson heading the force.  A night of calm transpired.  Protestors say that now they are being treated with respect.  Order is being kept…which is what any of us would want if we lived in Ferguson.  

Often free speech is wonderful when I agree with it…and heinous when I do not.  However if we are committed to continuing our excellent experiment of democracy in our beloved country it has to be for everyone…not just our friends and neighbors…and people who look like we do.  Don’t we all have the basic right…when we see the police to feel that they are our friend…and the protectors of our constitutional rights?

Rome is a magical place to visit.  Having stayed there for about twenty-four hours prior to our cruise we were excited to return for an additional five days.  This was also somewhat unusual and adventurous for us in that we up until that time had returned home directly after a cruise.  So we were back at the Hotel Montecarlo and Claude.  We decided by majority vote of three, sadly Aaron had to return to the United States due to work commitments, that we would perform much of our tour of Roma by the walking method.  Since then I have discovered that every time we are in Europe walking is our primary means of transportation.  We set our for the Fontana di Trevi or the Trevi Fountain.  The magnificent fountain was designed by Nicola Salvi and built in 1762.  It is considered the most famous fountain in the world.  The fountain has appeared in several movies due to its popularity.  It is a breathtaking feast for the eyes.  

As we pushed through the very large crowds of people I noticed a young woman who was setting on a small wooden push cart and who was obviously handicapped.  Although many passed her smiling face by as if she was not present…a young priest stopped and spoke with her and gave her some coin.  By the smiles on both of their faces I saw the christian principle at work.

We discovered a wonderful trattoria near the fontana and enjoyed a great meal…in fact it was so delicious that we returned again during our stay in Roma.  Later that afternoon we returned to the Montecarlo for a short nap only to be awakened by the telephone and Aaron calling from a hotel near the Leonardo da Vinci airport.  He told us that his plane back to the United States had not shown up and subsequently was just a few miles away from us until a new flight could arrive the next day.  He was exhausted from waiting in long lines at the airport for hours before they secured him a room for the night.

We planned on dining at our favorite trattoria that was a block or so away from our hotel…but decided first to enjoy a drink at the hotel bar.  When we arrived at the bar we discovered that Claude was not only the front desk attendant but also the bartender and mixologist.  He provided us with some tasty drinks and we sat with some very friendly folks from England.  The gentleman told us that he had been robbed the night before and  that we must be careful if we boarded any of the trains because that is where his pocket was picked.  He went on to exclaim that if it were not for his lady friend he would be in a penniless circumstance as all of his credit card were stolen as well. I thought during our animated conversation that we had found friends for the stay at the hotel…but when I greeted the colorful englishman the next morning he barely replied hello…and did not seem to recall our revelries of the evening before.

In any event we returned to our super nice bald headed slightly crossed eyed waiter at the trattoria just down the street, that we had visited the evening before we embarked on the cruise, and he was ecstatic to see us.  He cooked his speciality for us and it was even better than before the cruise…if that is possible.  After the meal I inquired if he had any grappa?  Now, I must confess at this point that I did not know what grappa was but I had heard it ordered on one of my two all time favorite television shows, The Sopranos, and so I wanted to experience it.  The man beamed at the request and responded that he not only had grappa…but for me he would open the best grappa.  I replied with equal enthusiasm.  Grappa is a grape based brandy made from discarded grape seeds, stems, and stalks.  It was very strong, smooth, and good.  As the dinner concluded we had been educated during the cruise that the proper tip in most European countries was only a few Euros…if the service was good…and not the twenty percent that we americans were accustomed to.  Thus we left the culturally correct gratuity…and our wonderful waiter did not follow us into the street.

We began the next morning with the Montecarlo’s’ extravagant breakfast.  Chocolate is the theme with chocolate pastries and Nutella abounding and also some wonderful Genoa salami and diverse antipasto.  This is complimented with exquisite cappuccino.  Then, we were off to find the perfect suitcase for Mary Jane.  She was desiring a small hard case that would fit in the overhead compartments on the airplanes.  We walked several miles in this pursuit.  Finally we found just the right one…a small fire engine red Samsonite case and we quickly purchased it from the well dressed Italian lady who mostly smiled at us when we asked her questions.  Speaking of well dressed.  We noticed that almost all men and women we encountered were immaculate in their attire and thin.  Women wearing high heels and men in suit and tie…even when driving their Vespers.

The ancient ruins of Rome and the Colosseum were our next stop.  These sites are so imagination stirring.  

During our five days in Rome we took a twelve hour bus tour to Assisi and Orvieto.  This began with some excitement just after Bob’s Limo Service picked us up at our hotel and drove us to the bus tour.  A lady immediately came out and instructed us to follow her to a different bus line that would be taking us due to her company not having enough tourists partaking of the twelve hour journey.  When we arrived the tour guide said that he did not have our names on his manifest to which I replied that we had purchased our tickets and were planning on joining his tour…he simply waved his hand for us to board.  As we began the ride I was impressed that our guide began to tell us what we were going to see when we stopped as well as many of the areas that were passing by the bus windows…and he did this in three languages.  However when we stopped at Orvieto the bus parked at the foot of a gigantic hill that we then took a lift up part of the climb and completed it wearily on foot.  This process took over twenty minutes.  When we finally arrived at the top our guide who had spoken to us in three languages told us that, “There is the church…I will be under the tree…meet me under the tree in one hour”.  This was the modus operandi for the remainder of the day.  In fact there was a woman from South Africa that constantly berated him throughout the day for his lack of tour guide skills.  She told him that she had been a governmental official overseeing tourism in South Africa at one time and that she knew what she was talking about.  His response throughout the day was, “Madame…madame”.

A lunch was provided during the day at a local trattoria.  We were so happy to be reunited with our new friends from Barcelona, Dan and Michelle, and we sat next to them for lunch.  As I was attempting to make my order of the approved foods that the Tour had already paid for, the language gap got the best of both me and the waitress.  When Dan attempted to help by telling the young woman what I was requesting and I chimed in…she instructed me that she was talking to Dan.  I thought enough said.

St. Francis home of Assisi is fascinating.  St. Francis was born into a well to do family in 1181-1182. While Francis was going to war in 1204 he had a vision and returned to Assisi.  He then took a pilgrimage to Rome and joined the poor in begging in St. Peter’s Basilica.  He was then persuaded to live in poverty.  He is one of the most venerated saints of the Catholic Church. I think that his name sake the current Pope is an extraordinary leader.  We again had the opportunity to have a drink and snack with Michelle and Dan as well as Mary Jane discovering a wonderful hanging mask that she had been looking for.  

As the long tour wound to its’ conclusion and we got off the bus Mary Jane handed our trilingual guide ten euro.  Now ten euro is a good tip for a good guide…but our guide was just out of gas, so to speak, yet she handed him the reward smilingly and he responded, “You are to kind madame”.

As we departed Rome I was sure of one thing…we must return someday.  There are simply to many sights and sounds and smells to take in even is six days…but God knows we tried.

One of the most intriguing ports we disembarked on during our Mediterranean cruise was Palermo, Sicily.  We boarded a bus for our guided tour and the first thing we noticed was the terrible traffic.  The streets where chaotic…even more so than Rome…if that is possible.  Our first stop was the Plazzo Steri also known as the Chiaramonte.  From 1600 through 1782 the Tribunal of the Holy Inquisition made its’ home here.  This building functioned as the jail of the Inquisition.  As our guide described the torture that transpired in the buildings we could not help but wonder if the spirits of those who had suffered as heretics might still be lingering?

The creepiness of the Plazzo Steri palled in comparison to our next stop which was the Capuchin Catacombs of Palermo.  This was like nothing I had ever witnessed.  Although we had visited the catacombs in Rome…there were no remains in the wall niches that we walked by.  Not so in the catacombs of Palermo as not long after descending the many stairs to the bottom we began to pass…within arms length… the embalmed and mummified remains of not only the Capuchin Monks but also all manner of deceased including nobility, merchants, women, and children.  Some women were in wedding dresses while many were dressed in their finest clothes of the day and monks included the ropes that they had used as penance rituals during their life.  One body had been in life a casanova and thus had requested to be buried with glass eyes so that he could admire lovely women in his death.  His appearance was more than a little disquieting.  

An infant, Rosalia Lombardo, was preserved in such pristine condition that she appeared to be sleeping.  She died in 1920.    

After visiting the catacombs I could not help but reflect on the fleeting nature of this life and the perishable nature of our bodies.  

During our excursion in Palermo we were given a couple of hours to explore the merchants district with many fine upscale shops.  However they were for the most part closed for a customary two hour lunch and rest period making it difficult to explore more than the interesting facades and frontage of the businesses.  

We stopped for lunch and were greeted by a friendly waiter who spoke virtually no english and we spoke no italian.  He called for his manager to come out…who did speak a little english.  He was smoking a cigar and after some trial and error told me to try his pasta with sardines.  I later discovered that Palermo is noted for its’ sardines.  Although this combination sounded strange to my american ears it was the most delicious dish I had during the cruise and ranked next to our special dish in Rome.  

During the bus tour we were told by our guide that the mafia is still so strong in Palermo that when members of their family our being tried in court that they must be transported by a system of underground tunnels for fear that the police will be attacked and the prisoner released.  About this time we passed the opera house that had a prominent role in the movie Godfather III.

Palermo is a beautiful city.  It has posses an old world quality that is fascinating.  

As we left Nice we were sad at the limited time we had to visit with our friend Margo.  We determined that we must come back to Europe and visit with her and Jeff at a future date.  Cruise ships in general and the Holland America line in particular are noted for their beautiful interiors and lovely art.  In fact every cruise we have taken has had an art auction at some point during the “at sea” portion of the adventure.  On our first cruise to Alaska, and our first cruise ever, we were enamored with the beautiful art on display that was later to be sold at auction.  Setting in on the first day of the auction we noticed that the friendly ships’ crew were not only offering us free champagne but were very quick to refill our flutes.  What generosity!  What an artistic spirit of benevolence!  As the auction progressed…and the free champagne flowed…I could not help but notice the freedom of purchase that many in the happy audience were engaging in.  We saw one of the happy art purchasers at dinner a night or two after and commented on the several pieces that they had purchased.  They replied that they had better like them because they certainly cost a lot of money.  The moral of this story would be that if you attend an at sea art auction…do not drink the free champagne.

Barcelona, Spain is simply a beautiful city.  During our shore excursion we partook in a great guided tour that stopped in two different Tapas restaurants.  Tapas are a snack or an appetizer in Barcelona that can be consumed as a main course.  The idea of Tapas is that you can eat delicious food and still be able to concentrate on good fellowship of others, at your table, and engage in conversation.  These are small finger foods or horderves that can be either hot or cold, spicy or mild, and composed of almost anything.  We sat at table with a simply delightful couple.  They were on the cruise with us and Dan was from the East coast while Michelle was from Florida.  She had been a member of the Mossad in Israel.  He had retired twice…the first time for a period of five years until his wife told him that there was not enough money…and thus he said,” I went back to work for ten additional years”.  We not only had lunch with Dan and Michelle but later after the cruise we were united with them again on a seven hour bus tour of Italy and lunch at Assisi.

During our tour we marveled at the Sagrada Familia basilica who’s architect was the renowned Antoni Gaudi.  This is a basilica like none I have ever seen.  

We also saw Gaudi’s Casa Batllo which is one of his most unusual works.  

There was a liveliness and excitement in Barcelona that was immediately felt.  It is a very busy city with friendly people and many children…who watched us with purpose and question as we walked around their city.

The next day we docked at Tunis, Tunisia.  Tunis is the capital of Tunisia and is located in north Africa.  We were one of the first cruise liners to begin docking in Tunis about four months after the Arab Spring uprising had freed them from the dictatorship of Tunisian President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali who had been removed and his government overthrown.  In fact the Arab Spring began in Tunisia.  Tunisia is a Muslim country with 98% being Sunni Muslims.  Our tour guide was an interesting animated fellow.  He began to recount his gratefulness to the United States for standing with Tunisia during its’ recent struggle for independence and his appreciation for Holland America for having the courage to be one of the first cruise lines to begin docking at Tunis.  His comments were heartfelt and like nothing that I have experienced on a tour.  As we drove through the city it was like being in the pages of National Geographic.  The ancient buildings and the locals setting in front of them having coffee and smoking and talking was a surreal experience.  We were in another culture and another world.  Not a bad world…on the contrary it was fascinating and by the quizzical looks we received as we drove by I think the Tunisians were thinking the same things as we were.

We stopped at the ancient ruins of Carthage.   This was something to behold.  The City dates back to the first millennium BC when it was a Phoenician colony.  

We visited the military cemetery in Carthage, Tunisia where thousands of fallen american veterans have their final resting place.  When we saw the immaculate keeping of the grounds and heard the Battle Hymn of the Republic being played on the belles from the cemeteries chapel we could not help but tear up at the thought of all of the young men who had given their lives in Europe and many during the North African Campaigns of World War II.  

One of the most colorful stops during the tour was at a rug manufacturing shop.  We first were given a demonstration of how the rugs were made by hand stitching that was extremely intricate and producing a beautiful product.  Then we were ushered into a long narrow room that had benches aligning the walls.  A sweet Tunisian dessert was offered to each of us and some small cups of delicious tea.  Now for the sales pitch.  Exquisite rug after exquisite rug was brought to the middle of the room for our inspection and purchase.  The beginning prices on each were exorbitant.  Some of our group simply purchased their rug at the first price offered and seemed extremely proud of their consumer acumen.  While others waited until the third, fourth, and even fifth price was quoted before making the contract.

As we began to board the bus after the rug show our tour guide stood in the middle of an extremely busy street and stopped the traffic as any police officer would do…however he was a tour guide..and a brave man.

I think one of the primary problems between Christians and Muslims is that they have never taken the time to get to know each other.  The people we encountered in Tunis were very friendly…other than the one old man who made an obscene gesture with his hand at us…and are facing much of the same struggles that christians do on a daily basis.  I must reiterate that our tour guide was touching in his sincerity of appreciation for Americans and for their support.  As we were in a gift shop that was attached to the rug factory…he insisted on introducing me to his boss who seemed honored to meet me.  I was honored to meet him as well.

As we boarded our Holland America cruise liner at Civtavecchia and began to set sail I straight away noticed the relaxed care free feeling that customarily comes over me when I am on a cruise.  From the epicurean dinners to the fine wine and cocktails to the beautiful public spaces and comfortable accommodations, cruising is an almost worry free way to see the world.  Not to mention that the entertainment is often Broadway quality.  We were diverted from our first port of call and docked in Genoa, Italy.

Genoa has a population of over six hundred thousand inhabitants, according to Wikipedia.    My only memory of Genoa’s history was that Christopher Columbus was born there…but even that is of historical question.

In any case our first stop was little more than our standing on the dock and walking to a nearby merchant area…where they watched us with a skeptical eye.

The next day we went ashore at Cannes, France.  We boarded a bus for a guided tour of Cannes, Eze, and Nice.  These towns line the historic French Riviera.  Cannes was very interesting in that the Cannes Film Festival was transpiring while we were driving through.  We looked intently for famous movie stars but sadly the guide told us it was a bit to early for them as they usually came out mid-afternoon.  We did see the famous red carpet.  The population is roughly seventy-three thousand people.  The famous film festival began in September, 1946.

Eze was where we took a walking tour of this small town in the mountains.  Eze has a population of just under three thousand people.  Eze is sometimes referred to as the “eagles nest” due to its’ height of 1,401 feet above sea level.  We virtually toured the entire town and visited many of the small quaint shops…first by walking up the steep incline and then down to return to the bus.  We stood in front of the Fragonard Perfume store for some time but did not go in.  Three years later in Grasse we did go in and stayed for some time.

Nice was an exciting destination for us as we were to have lunch with our friend of many years Margo.  We were to meet by the old opera house.  Thus we asked the tour guide to let us depart from the bus and tour…and inquired when and where we should meet again for the return trip to the ship.  As we looked for Margo I noticed the extreme beauty of the old city.  The buildings were unique in their architectural structure and close proximity.  

The picture of Nice above was taken June 2014 and not the time of this blog which was May, 2011.

We had a lovely lunch and then perused an outdoor antique market.  I noticed both at lunch and during our walk through the market that many of the residents had their dog or dogs with them.  We learned that the french take their dogs virtually everywhere with them and it is culturally acceptable.  Nice is one of the oldest human settlements in Europe and has three hundred days of sunshine annually.

I think everyone but me indulged in some gelato just before we departed from Margo to board our bus.  Watching them eat…I wished that I had joined them.  We decided that someday we would like to return to Nice for a few days rather than being bound by a cruise line minimal land schedule.

January 1,2011 I retired from a job that I loved at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, Illinois.  Mary Jane then retired from Her favorite position at SIU at the end of February 2011.  Having worked all of our lives, to that point, we wanted to take a holiday like we had never experienced before.  Thus we decided to embark on a Mediterranean cruise in May 2011, with an extended stay in Rome after the cruise concluded.  Aaron and Jonathon were both able to join us and the excitement was electric.

We landed at Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome.  After we retrieved our baggage we waited for Bob’s Limo Service, who would be our chauffeur both during the day that we were in Rome prior to the cruise and the week after.  The driver for Bob was a delightful fellow.  He greeted us with broken english and proceeded to drive like a bat out of hell, as my mother was fond of saying.  I have driven in Manhattan… and was grateful to have finished without a major accident.  As Jonathon remarked at the conclusion of our great east coast adventure, ” We had a lot of close calls.”  Nevertheless I have never seen traffic or driving as I witnessed in Rome.  There are thousands of small scooters interweaving in and out of cars and trucks and other scooters.  Apparently there are no rules of the road as drivers cut in front of their peers with abandon.  We were told by our chauffeur that the rule of driving in Roma was to not make eye contact with a person that is attempting to cut in front of you as that is body language for giving them permission to do so.  After more than a little heart palpitations we arrived at our destination, the Hotel Montecarlo.

The Montecarlo was a lovely Hotel with an old world ambiance.  As we checked in with Claude the desk clerk, and bartender as I later discovered, we noticed that he had only rudimentary english skills and we had no Italian language skills.  Remember this was our first exposure to Europe.  We were ushered to our rooms and Aaron and I collapsed on twin beds while Mary Jane and Jonathon overcame their exhaustion and sought lunch.  As they departed the lights and air conditioner ceased to function.  The electricity was off.  Being so unbelievably tired we perspired through until their return.  Later I inquired of Claude and discovered that if your key was not inserted into the socket provided for it by the inside of the  door of the room your electricity immediately was turned off.  We were awoken from our hot slumber by Mary Jane announcing that it was time to catch Bob’s Limo Service to the Catacomb tour.  Jonathon and I protested that we would rather sleep…but the fact that I was in Rome and might never be so again won out and we left with Bob.

There are forty or more catacombs under Rome.  They started in the second century AD.  The empty underground burial niches in the stone and earth under Rome were extremely interesting.  However they palled in comparison to the Sicilian catacombs that we visited later in the trip.

Now, no matter how tired we were we were ready to eat.  Just a block from the Montecarlo was a trattoria that Jonathon and Mary Jane had visited for lunch.  We decided that sounded good to our weary minds and bodies.  At this point I must mention that our hotel was located more or less on embassy row.  There were uniformed armed guards along the path to the trattoria and the surrounding blocks.  As we entered the trattoria I noticed the liveliness of the establishment.  Much talking, laughing, and movement were all around us.  Our waiter was colorful as he was extremely busy with slightly crossed eyes and a balding pate.  When I inquired what was best on the menu he responded that, “What was best was not on the menu…but that he would fix his off menu speciality for us if we desired”.  We responded that we desired very much.  When he brought the off menu special to us we began to eat what was the best pasta dish that we have ever partaken of in Europe…and we have now been there three times.  It was exquisite.  At the conclusion of the outstanding meal I left my customary tip of 20% and we proceeded to exit the building.  Our waiter followed us into the street and exclaimed, ” Please come back again…we are closed tomorrow…but we will be open every day after that!”  I responded that we were going on a weeks’ cruise but after that we would be returning to the Montecarlo for an additional week and that we would definitely be patrons again.  He seemed very happy.

The next morning was embarkation day for the cruise…but first was the private tour of the Vatican.  Bob sent a Mercedes to pick us up at the Montecarlo and deposit us at the Vatican.  Our guide Sergio met us within five minutes of our arrival and we began.  This young man, from the instant we met him, was the consummate professional.  He took us in a side door and commenced to best guided tour that we have ever had.  

By the time he had completed our three hour tour we were inundated with both ancient and modern knowledge of the Vatican.

At the conclusion of our tour we said goodbye to Sergio and returned by taxi, not Bob, to the Montecarlo and then by bus to Civitavecchia of our embarkation on the ship that would take us to many interesting points around the Mediterranean.  We had only just begun.

One of the definitions of  faith, according to Dictionary.com, is, “belief that is not based on proof”.  Another definition would be,” belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion: the firm faith of the pilgrims.”  

I have often reflected on the meaning of faith…why do people attend synagogue, church, or mosque.  Is it the hope of an afterlife, a rapture, rewards in heaven that seem somewhat earthly in their descriptions?  

Is religious affiliation much like a club to many people?  You pay your dues and show up for the main events…and you have got your bases covered with the big man upstairs?

The popular author Tom Perrotta has written a compelling book titled, the leftovers,  which has been made into a series on HBO.  The basic premise is that a rapture like event has occurred taking one hundred and forty-thousand people away from the earth and their families and friends to somewhere yet to be determined.  One of the most interesting components of this yarn is that that people were apparently from all walks of life, faithful and faithless,…moral and immoral.  After this unexplained departure it appears that a slow chaos is building among the leftovers…including an appreciable decline in church attendance.  Nihilism is taking over the town in which the story is set.  

Many people are members of a belief system by virtue of their birth.  Judaism, Muslim, Catholic, or Protestant, while many more are members of a denomination by the same random circumstance, Presbyterian, Methodist, Lutheran and others.  

I had a good friend disclose to me many years ago that the only reason he attended church was to avoid a burning hell.

As Mary Jane and I have traveled throughout Europe we have toured many exquisite cathedrals.  I must tell you that I find them inspiring.  The people that built these magnificent edifices had to be inspired.  Did they come up in the same faith system that I have?  No, I think not as the catholic church would be the primary religious influence throughout Europe.  Nevertheless the physical manifestation of their belief in the unknown is palpable.  

When I was working at university I was acquainted with many wonderful students from all over the world.  Their backgrounds and belief or faith systems were as the old testament patriarch Josephs’ coat of many colors.  One of these, an African American young man, worked in the office with me for some time and was a muslim.  He was a delightful person and caring person and dedicated to his faith.  

I have several friends who are Jewish by birth and Christian by faith.

Many voices in the United States, and some with appreciable political influence, would have our government follow their narrow interpretation of the Bible and their belief system.  You see that’s the  rub as we used to say.  Prayer is powerful…but do I have to recite your… or the politically correct prayer?  

Having begun my faith walk in a non-denominational church forty-five years ago and now having been a member of First Presbyterian Church for the past sixteen years I have experienced quite a view of my protestant faith.  Faith is extremely personal and many times private.  

One manifestation that I enjoy seeing in the Presbyterian Church is people living their faith with practical actions of helping others and the less fortunate.  

 In the new testament (NIV) Jesus said in John 13:34-35 “A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”