Cruisin'

Cruisin’ with the big fish. My first time on this much floating tonnage. 1000 passengers. Countless crew. They take your passport away! I feel a bit vulnerable with just my photocopy. Dale took care of our passports, while I put baggage through what passes in Greece for screening. He assures me they put the documents in the ship’s safe.

We get a credit-card sized room key, which they scan every time you disembark and return. That way they know who, if anyone, is missing. First drill is to get your cabin’s life vest, put it on, and proceed up, up, and away to deck 7 and stand where they tell you. When all are in place, you are released. That’s it.

Sailing southeast from Athens, we sit in the sun on the deck. Teen girls are in the small pool—but not for long. It’s breezy and cool.

So this is cruising! Four dining areas, from buffet to elegant sit-down. Great food. I cautiously pick at a bit of this and a tad of that in my usual dainty fashion. Dale finds the small exercise room. Not me. Up and down four to seven flights will keep me trim. Lifts are available but slow. Cozy little cabin on level 4—about 20 feet above the water line. As we get out into the mid-Aegean, rollers will splash on our side, sending spray almost this high. But the ship barely rolls.

Dale uses a suction cup to fasten his GPS to our window. Speed says 25 mph. A little line shows our path across the islands, just like airliner maps.

In a few hours we are docking at Mikenos (MEE-ken-os) This small island is covered with stuccoed houses that are whitewashed twice a year, with deep blue trim for windows and doors—a striking effect in the sun and those turquoise Aegean waters. How they supported themselves before tourists started flocking to the islands 25 years ago is something to ponder. Windmills dot the landscape, which is sparse, like the hills of west Texas. Their sails are furled today, even though there is a stiff breeze. Meandering up the narrow streets and alleys, shops and house intermingle, almost all abutting one another. A road the width of Broadway in Haverhill winds up the slopes. Traffic is light.

I had been talking with Linda on the cruise deck earlier. She has a farm near Lousiville with llamas that help guard sheep. She raises vegetables and herbs for the farmer’s market. Sadly, she married poorly and is now divorced after some 20 years, with sons now in their twenties.

She wanted to go to the top of the hill to a chapel. Dale was eager to get some coffee, so I offered to go with her. The small structure was surrounded by houses except near the top. We looked for a road or path to it but found none. So we yard-whacked up the slope over a wall here and a fence there. With some creative effort we made it. There was no indication that anyone ever goes there. No road. No footpath. I guess its just a monument someone built in gratitude for some deliverance for the village. By now ,the sun is setting into the sea—a giant red ball. We find our way down by the road and alleys. Good fun; good exercise.

It is sooo nice to cruise through all the shops, knowing you are not going to buy anything. Most are small hole-in-the-wall businesses with clothes and curios and water color paintings and sandals and such. The same for coffee shops and sandwich places. No big plazas in sight. It’s delightful.

Nice place to visit, but—no—you would not want to live here.

Back to the ship. Time to go on cruisin’.