What I did on my summer vacation….
Very expensive 8-day cruise—the Trade Routes of Spain and
Portugal, by Gohagan of Chicago—I’ve since seen less expensive, longer trips—and this one
didn’t even include Barcelona, unless you had an add-on! (Though we left from
the Barbelona airport.)
I thought the cruise was only for Columbia graduates, but
other schools’ alumni were there, too—Notre Dame, Case Western--
VERY expensive—I misplaced my sunglasses, wanted to buy some
on board--$299! I asked for a cheaper pair, was told that all sold for $299—I’m
ashamed to tell you what my own sunglasses cost--
But plenty of free wine—(and chamapgne)--plenty of food—free
slippers and bathrobe—in short, a luxurious cruise for people accustomed to
luxury—which, alas, didn’t include yours truly—as a Time Inc editor once told
me, you can take the man out of West New York (the industrial town I came from),
but not the West New York out of the man—(I wrote an article for Money magazine
about private schools—I was awed—the editors decided it was a mistake to assign
a lower-middle-class person, who had attended a small ragtag public high
school, to write about fancy private schools--I remember writing: A private school is what God intended all high schools to be.)
Boat staff was very friendly and helpful—but a “welcome back
to the boat” celebration when we returned
from a few-hours land excursion, complete with pianist, was excessive—
Food aboard ship was variable—I’ve learned that if you don’t
recognize the fancy words describing the dish, it’s probaby no damn
good—nothing inedible, but little memorable—same was true of the wine--
Also, it was a rather small boat—lots of seasickness the
first night when the boat rolled like mad—yes, I succumbed to mal du mer—staff
gave out free dramamine pills--
On our daytime excursons, too many cathedrals! I wanted
museums—of history, art—concerts—fortunately, no bullfights—read something about
real bullfights—horrifying--
A highlight: We visited a former monastery, where George
Sand and Chopin lived during one winter—giant models of them—also sheets of C’s
music, her mss—we even heard a Chopin concert—Chopin himself, body buried in
Paris, his heart in Poland, must have rolled over in both places—pianist was no
damn good—wrong notes, no subtlety—but he must play the same stuff all day long
for new visitors—still, a highlight of trip—proud of pix of me with chopin/sand
images in background--
I bought Sand’s book, A Winter in Mallorca … in which she
derided the inhabitants—they didn’t like HER either—started book, clearly a
formidably intelligent woman—she once said, to understand all is to forgive
all—which B Shaw described accurately as the Devil’s philosophy—but now she has
risen in my estimation—
A terrific book I also read on board: Writers in
Hollywood—Huxley, Faukner, Fitzgerald—comprehensive; judicious observations--
Started Anthony Trollope’s autobiography—surprisingly good—
Gibraltar: more than just a rock—a thriving community—with
apes! The little ones were cute—
Re fellow passengers: didn’t make any new friends—partly
because most lived far away—but generally they were rich and
sophisticated—travel-wise—people interested in making new friends turn off
people not interested in making new friends—for one thing, they’re suspicious—one
of the curses of being rich: you think strangers are after your money—which, in
many cases, they are--
Sorry we never got to madrid—or saw more of barcelona—but
there were spectacular views and spectacular sights—on water and land—I even
saw a nude beach!
And, as usual, I should have read more, beforehand, about
the countries--
I had been worried, before the trip, that my difficulty in
walking would be embarrassing—(I have spinal stenosis)—but most of my fellow passengers were older people, too, several
also with walking problems—and where I had to, I took cabs—
A good idea: Tell the airline you’ll need a
wheelchair—you’ll speed right through customs and security--
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