Sherrill and I visited more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 year marriage. This is number 45 of a series about our lives and travels, true stories of two people discovering the world, each other, and themselves through five decades of traveling together. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series. To start at the beginning of our marriage and travels look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts are a previous series.
Sherrill on the little red boat "How do you get ideas about where to go next?" people asked us.
"A lot of different ways," we replied.
Sherrill subscribed to a newsletter that printed pieces from travelers about places that had excited them, often with their own photographs. Over the years, she picked up some tantalizing ideas from it. She also discovered "the little red boat," as the World Explorer was affectionately known, in that newsletter. The ship carried only fifty passengers, but took them on some unusual trips.
"A lot of different ways," we replied.
Sherrill subscribed to a newsletter that printed pieces from travelers about places that had excited them, often with their own photographs. Over the years, she picked up some tantalizing ideas from it. She also discovered "the little red boat," as the World Explorer was affectionately known, in that newsletter. The ship carried only fifty passengers, but took them on some unusual trips.
"We've got to do this one," Sherrill told me, showing me the item.
The itinerary might have been designed for us. It focused on the heart of the Mediterranean Sea, from Nice in France south to the French island of Corsica, then on to the Italian island of Sardinia, continuing to Tunisia in north Africa, then making several stops around the coast of Sicily, and finally ending on the islands of Malta, visiting historical sites all along the way. Historians would give background lectures on board and accompany passengers on shore excursions. We liked the fact that it was a small boat with an intimate, friendly feel.
The itinerary might have been designed for us. It focused on the heart of the Mediterranean Sea, from Nice in France south to the French island of Corsica, then on to the Italian island of Sardinia, continuing to Tunisia in north Africa, then making several stops around the coast of Sicily, and finally ending on the islands of Malta, visiting historical sites all along the way. Historians would give background lectures on board and accompany passengers on shore excursions. We liked the fact that it was a small boat with an intimate, friendly feel.
The little red boat in Nice, France Would Nice, we wondered, live up to our memories of our first visit seventeen years before? It wasn't bad. Wandering through the narrow golden streets of the Old Town, peering into corners, poking into shops, showing each other oddities and treasures that we discovered, we might have been kids again. Eating at a beachside cafe and gazing across the bay as changing shades of blue pursued each other through the trembling water felt even more magical than the first time. We were there only one day before boarding the ship, but were feeling extremely mellow when late that night we sailed past the shimmering lights of Monte Carlo. Maybe it was the French wine, maybe it was middle-age.
As the World Explorer continued toward Corsica the next morning, we managed to listen to a pair of (very good) lectures about the island and its long and complex history—even while gazing out the lounge's wide windows at the water unrolling like bolts of fabric that changed from blue to green to purple, stitched together with foamy white lace. One of the lecturers, I remember, was a witty, knowledgeable woman from Newcastle with a slippery Yorkshire accent. My notes show that I was trying to pay attention, but also that I was only partially successful:
12th century Genoese citadel-Porto Vecchio. Napoleon born Ajaccio, 1768. Bonifaccio-natural harbor, old town within city walls. St. Helena left bit of True Cross in cathedral. Many Moroccans emigrate to Corsica. Ancient cistern under church. Only 5 1/2 million years ago when Atlantic flowed into Mediterranean basin.
Some of those facts might have had a connection with each other, but I'm not sure how.
Corsica may have been part of France, but it felt Italian to us, and as far as the Corsicans were concerned was its own world, even with its own language—and its own unique, dramatic beauty. Mountains, rugged crags, sweeping beaches, forests, ancient ruins, and massive fortifications surprised us around every bend. The roads were rough and the cobblestone walkways and steps in the towns not much better, but we told ourselves that this was part of the charm. The hearty meals, heavy on seafood, completed the job of winning us over. And then there was the local wine....
"Look—like Spain," I said, as we drove along. "Or is it Greece?"
"Maybe both," Sherrill smiled.
12th century Genoese citadel-Porto Vecchio. Napoleon born Ajaccio, 1768. Bonifaccio-natural harbor, old town within city walls. St. Helena left bit of True Cross in cathedral. Many Moroccans emigrate to Corsica. Ancient cistern under church. Only 5 1/2 million years ago when Atlantic flowed into Mediterranean basin.
Some of those facts might have had a connection with each other, but I'm not sure how.
Corsica may have been part of France, but it felt Italian to us, and as far as the Corsicans were concerned was its own world, even with its own language—and its own unique, dramatic beauty. Mountains, rugged crags, sweeping beaches, forests, ancient ruins, and massive fortifications surprised us around every bend. The roads were rough and the cobblestone walkways and steps in the towns not much better, but we told ourselves that this was part of the charm. The hearty meals, heavy on seafood, completed the job of winning us over. And then there was the local wine....
"Look—like Spain," I said, as we drove along. "Or is it Greece?"
"Maybe both," Sherrill smiled.
Sherrill on Corsica The scenery did suggest parts of both Spain and Greece: groves of cork oaks and then of olive trees, vineyards followed by dry fields or rocky cliffs abruptly jutting up from the sea. With its ever-changing, unpredictable terrain, Corsica was like a mini-continent.
We also came to realize as we sailed through this part of the Mediterranean that its history was a story of constant war. Fortifications dominated just about every port we visited, from the town of Bonifacio perched on Corsica's white limestone cliffs to the great walls and towers of Alghero in Sardinia and Cagliari on Sicily to the massive citadel of Valletta on Malta.
We also came to realize as we sailed through this part of the Mediterranean that its history was a story of constant war. Fortifications dominated just about every port we visited, from the town of Bonifacio perched on Corsica's white limestone cliffs to the great walls and towers of Alghero in Sardinia and Cagliari on Sicily to the massive citadel of Valletta on Malta.
Sardinia on the map resembled a fallen leaf, but actually was the second largest island in the Mediterranean. Alghero, the first town where we docked, was part colorful resort, part 16th century stone fortress. Nearby, we discovered round stone houses from an ancient past when the population worshipped a water god. The complicated history of Cagliari, the island capital, teased and impressed us. We couldn't be sure what historical period we'd run into next: the shattered remains of the Phoenicians or a Carthaginian necropolis, a Roman amphitheatre or a Byzantine basilica, or even fortifications from when Pisa ruled the area.
Sherrill, Cagliari, Sardinia The Botanical Gardens, although not as huge as some that we'd visited, was one of the most interesting, with more than 2,000 species from different regions of the Mediterranean and tropics spectacularly arranged among remnants of several ancient civilizations. Vita Sackville-West in England had a moat in her garden, but here they had a Roman cistern. A large greenhouse displayed succulents, cactuses, and other desert plants that would've been at home in California.
"That one, too," Sherrill told me, from time to time, as we strolled through the gardens, until I had quite a list of plants that she wanted to remember.
"That one, too," Sherrill told me, from time to time, as we strolled through the gardens, until I had quite a list of plants that she wanted to remember.
However, I confess that I was more interested in the remains of the Punic-Roman city that we saw the next day on the island's southern coast. Part of the city had sunk into the Mediterranean, but from the shore we could see sections from Phoenician and Carthaginian times, including magnificent mosaic floors that seemed to ripple and undulate as we looked down on them. There was something surprisingly romantic about gazing through sea water sparkling with sunshine onto ancient streets and parts of buildings in which people not so different from us had lived and worked.
 Sherrill, Tunis, Tunisia |  Roman Carthage, Tunisia |
Sherrill, Roman Carthage, Tunisia As a boy, I was fascinated by the story of Carthage and Hannibal. At last, I was going to see whatever was left of the Carthaginian city. From Sardinia, the World Explorer sailed south to Tunisia in north Africa and its capital, Tunis, a city of blinding sun, white buildings, and dark souks. Like many former colonial cities, Tunis had a modern section—built by the French with palm-lined boulevards, hotels, restaurants, and patisseries—but we enjoyed much more threading our way through the narrow, winding alleys of the old city, among madressas, souks, antique dealers, and tea shops, minarets jutting like needles above the flat roofs. Parts of it reminded us of Aleppo and Damascus in Syria.
At last, Sherrill and I walked among the battered arches, broken columns, and beheaded statues of Roman Carthage, but nothing—not a broken pot— remained of the original Carthaginian city. The Romans had made sure of that. Still, I found myself thinking: This was the home of that crazy general who took elephants across Europe to destroy Rome. His guts and determination still appealed to the lingering boy in me.
Palermo monument for Mafia victims Palermo on the island of Sicily had been notorious for years as the center of the Mafia, so we weren't surprised when it turned out that the organization still had a huge presence in the city—although a dramatically tall red marble monument had been erected to honor its victims. One of a series of trials concerning the Mafia was underway, we were told, even while we were there.
The crew told us to be careful walking around the city alone and not to carry anything valuable, if we did. Empty handed, our money, I.D., and cameras hidden, Sherrill and I spent a fascinating afternoon wandering among the once prosperous old neighborhoods of the city without being bothered once. Back on the ship, we discovered that we were the only two passengers who'd ventured out on our own and that the others were amazed that we'd been so daring.
The crew told us to be careful walking around the city alone and not to carry anything valuable, if we did. Empty handed, our money, I.D., and cameras hidden, Sherrill and I spent a fascinating afternoon wandering among the once prosperous old neighborhoods of the city without being bothered once. Back on the ship, we discovered that we were the only two passengers who'd ventured out on our own and that the others were amazed that we'd been so daring.
"I've set the alarm for one thirty in the morning," Sherrill announced after the World Explorer sailed that night.
"Okay," I groaned. "Why?"
"So we can see when we go through the Strait of Messina, of course."
Then I remembered that we'd talked about when the ship would pass through the channel between Italy and Sicily on its way around the island to the ancient city of Syracuse. We woke up and looked out our window alright, but In the dark didn't see much except occasional lights sparkling on one side or the other. Nevertheless, Sherrill was pleased to have done it.
"Okay," I groaned. "Why?"
"So we can see when we go through the Strait of Messina, of course."
Then I remembered that we'd talked about when the ship would pass through the channel between Italy and Sicily on its way around the island to the ancient city of Syracuse. We woke up and looked out our window alright, but In the dark didn't see much except occasional lights sparkling on one side or the other. Nevertheless, Sherrill was pleased to have done it.
Sherrill & Bruce, Syracuse, Sicily Despite our interrupted sleep, we woke up when we reached Syracuse. The creamy white buildings along the waterfront glowed in the morning light almost as if they were lit from within. Exploring the city, we quickly understood why the entire place had been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Even 3,000 years after it rivaled Athens as the most important Greek city, we felt as if we'd stepped into that world. Many of the later buildings, including the Baroque cathedral, built around the remains of the Temple of Athena, had incorporated pieces of ancient ones, creating a magnificent jumble.
Greek temple of Concordia, Sicily Sherrill and I loved immersing ourselves in ancient, distant worlds. Nowhere were we able to do that as completely as when, a day later, we docked on the western side of the island and went up to the remains of the once powerful Greek city of Agrigento, at one time home to twenty temples, including the four large ones we saw the remains of that day. The old Greek city was destroyed by Carthage during their long conflict with Rome and then early Christians did their best to eliminate the "pagan" temples—although they preserved one as a Christian church—but when sunset washed the age-worn Doric columns gold, the ancient city was there again, real and alive.
The most impressive moment of the trip, however, may have been when we confronted, from the deck of the World Explorer, the almost unbelievably massive fortifications of Valletta, Malta's capital, rising like great stone cliffs from the sea. We both had been curious about Malta, three rocky islands in the middle of the Mediterranean, often a battleground during its five thousand year history, yet somehow surviving.
Sherrill, Valletta fortifications, Malta There was a lot to see there and we did our best to do it: from megalithic temples to the sophisticated debris left by Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, and Arabs to the catacombs of the early Christians to the Palace of the Grand Masters built by the Knights of St. John. Napoleon and the French took the place over for while, the British held it for almost 200 years, and it was bombed during World War II. A very eventful history, probably too eventful, but it had endured.
From Valletta, we flew to London and eventually on to California.
We hoped when we said goodbye to the World Explorer to sail on her again. The little red boat often departed for other itineraries that appealed to us, but we didn't get around to signing up for them. Then, it was too late: she hit an iceberg in Antarctica and sank.
To be continued....
We hoped when we said goodbye to the World Explorer to sail on her again. The little red boat often departed for other itineraries that appealed to us, but we didn't get around to signing up for them. Then, it was too late: she hit an iceberg in Antarctica and sank.
To be continued....
If you find these posts interesting, why not explore the rest of my website, too? Just click on the buttons at the top of the page and discover where they take you—including to several complete short stories and excerpts from my novels.
Please pass these posts on to anybody else you think might enjoy them.
Please pass these posts on to anybody else you think might enjoy them.
RSS Feed