Last Sea Day

Sea Day

Watching the sunrise from the Explorer's Lounge.  A huge line of muscular cumulus across the horizon, sitting just above the edge of the world, from north to south – and the sun is taking advantage of that gap to make a glorious entrance.  It's too windy to go outside – I tried, and both my hat and my headphones were blown right off my head, right away.  But it's warm – I can have my hat blown off in shirtsleeves.

We're sailing northeast, heading between Spain and the Balearic Islands.  There's hint of land to our left – port* - side.  We're passing under those cumulus now, getting rained on, but they're also lit up by the sun, over to our right, and they look like ethereal cities, sailing west like in a science fiction novel; it looks like we're underwater, watching a great armada sail overhead.  

The sky is generally clear on the other side of the clouds.

There's a great story of the American Revolution that on July 4, 1776, the day the Declaration of Independence was signed in Philadelphia, King George III, in London, wrote in his diary:  “Nothing of importance happened today.”  It's not true, but it's a great story, and widely told.

It's true here.  This has been a relaxing sea day, but nothing of real importance has happened.  We ate, read, played shuffleboard, ping pong (in the wind), ninepins and miniature golf (two holes in one for Abbey!) up on the sports deck, just to say we had.  We chatted with Eugene, the engaging Indonesian-but-ethnically-Chinese head of Guest Services, who speaks at least five languages but looks like he's fourteen, for about 45 minutes, mostly about traveling.  We packed and packed.  Nothing of importance.

[Abbey:  I like to challenge myself while packing for a trip to only pack what I will wear or use and I certainly failed this trip.  I didn't need a fleece,  three capris, or my bathing suit. ] 

The sky has been mostly clear, with the large but distant, puffy cumulus clouds near the horizon.  It's nice to have a sunny day in the Mediterranean.

December 13

Barcelona to Madrid

Barcelona has a lighthouse, too.  Flash (pause) flash, (wait a while), repeat.

The coast is lit up from one end to another.  Spain's second largest city.  We're gliding in to the port, passing another ship,

Gingerbread castle
on the ship

slowly, that has only a few lights on.  Passing the container cranes which we passed on the way out, two weeks ago.  They are a whole different thing, lit up at night.  

Yesterday afternoon, as we were packing, Abbey said, “Oh!  I never wore my new dress!”  Which was the case.  That's how much we think about clothes.  She put it on, as well as a shawl, and we went to dinner – to the Restaurant, in honor of her stylish and colorful dress.  She looked great.  Then more packing, and bed.  

We're home, or at least back, tied up in Barcelona.  I think I'll stop here for now, and pick up the train and Madrid portion of our trip later.  

* - Port and left both have four letters.  That's how I learned it long ago; I have trouble memorizing that kind of stuff (left/right, east/west, Medicare/Medicaid, etc.).