Capri, Italy. October, 1984

Today we’re planning to dock at the storied Isle of Capri and then head up, up, up via funicular to the top of the mountainous island. It’s way up top where you’ll find the jet set who turned Capri into a millionaires’ paradise many decades ago. I suspect the real jet set has long abandoned the place to the hordes of tourists that descend upon it daily. When I was there almost 30 years ago, I remember walking back paths through groves of lemon trees to the palace of Emperor Tiberius, staring at the cliff from which he threw his enemies to the coastal rocks below. Also, more gently, the kind boatman (a shoulder shrug, a nice tip) who took me into the Blue Grotto after the last official boat had left, affording me a quiet and private view of this natural wonder. I suspect now, three decades later, such privileges may no longer still be so easily available.

Messina, Sicily. October, 2011

Ah, the golden fried pleasures of arancine. Rice balls that contain, in the classic preparation, meat and tomato sauce, lovely melted cheese, peas. We’d first enjoyed these treats at Galleria Umberto, the Sicilian American pizzeria and tavola calda in Boston’s North End. Because it was a popular item that sold out quickly, the counter man would regularly call back to the kitchen, “Sam! More arancin’!” (And how many times did we have a piece of pizza or two waiting for Sam to deliver?) Here in Sicily, we made a beeline to a busy downtown snack bar filled with university students on lunch break. No Sam, but plenty of arancin’. Today, we’re slated to be back in Messina, hoping to see the Caravaggios we missed last year, and you can be sure where we’ll be heading for a little something, a little qualche cosa di buono.

Sea of Marmara, Turkey. October, 2011

Oh, look at Dr. Blake, so comfy and cozy, already settled into our spacious stateroom on the Wind Surf. Last year at this time, we’d just sailed out of Istanbul and were headed south to Asia Minor, the Greeks Isles, Athens. This year, if all goes as planned, we’ll be spending today sailing around the boot of Italy, ready to arrive tomorrow in Sicily. The customary at-sea day on most Windstar cruises provides a nice time to just relax, read, maybe use the fitness center, have tea, do the things you might not normally do when busy in port. Well, it’s almost time for dinner. Better put on shoes, Jay.

Istanbul. October, 2011

Today, our planned itinerary should find us sailing into the fjord-like port of Kotor in Montenegro. (I do like saying Montenegro.) I know little about it beyond the fact that it has been at times ruled by Venetians, Ottomans and a few others. (Sounds good to me.) And that because of its embattled past, the city is surrounded by fortified walls. Also that it has no national currency but uses the euro as its money even though Montenegro is not part of the European Union. And I was delighted to see that we will be arriving on a market day. It seems that every new place I go, I love to head to the market. I see real people (vs. tourists) there, hear the language, watch the interactions. Here’s a small fruit and vegetable market (one of many such) that we visited in Istanbul last year at this time.

Spice Market, Istanbul. October, 2011

Along with the Grand Bazaar, the Spice Market is a major emporium here in the City of the World’s Desire. Consequently it’s filled with tourists, filled with the sounds of many languages. But it also serves as a market for locals who know that the freshness of the spices and other wares can be vouched for by the large volume of sales and quick turnaround. That said, there is a decidedly tourist slant to the goods on offer. “Premium” caviar. Belly-dancer costumes. And something called “Turkish Viagra,” a helvah-type of sweet with embedded pistachios. Today, if all goes according to our itinerary, we should be in Dubrovnik, once ruled by the Ottomans, among others. Who knows what bazaar treasures await us there?

Lisbon. October, 2009

Today should find us sailing into the port of Split. I’ve asked my Croatian friend (and expert home baker) Marin to provide me with the names of some different kinds of Croatian pastries and breads so that I can have a farinaceous scavenger hunt in his hometown, an activity that combines two of my favorite things to do while traveling: hunting down local specialties and eating them. (Here are some finds from our trip three years ago to Lisbon. May our time in Split today be as rewarding.)

Gloucester, MA. September, 2009

Today, if all goes as we’ve planned, we’ll be sailing into Pula. It will be my first time in Croatia. Jay’s, too. So why is there a picture from our Labor Day Boat Party in Gloucester three years ago? Because that smiling fellow on the right is our friend Marin. A Croat. I had considered asking him how to say a few simple phrases in Croatian, things like “hello” and “thank you.” But I worried that he might teach me words that were, well, naughty instead. Don’t you think he has a playful and mischievous look about him? (Today, Pula. Tomorrow, Split, Marin’s hometown.)