Kotor, Montenegro. October, 2012

The cruise ships in the harbor of this small, mountain-surrounded town did nothing to discourage this local fisherman from doing what he must do everyday. Taking his small rowboat out, returning with the daily catch for the harborside market. So peaceful this watery scene, the whole town really, tucked away as it is at the end of a twisty series of inlets, best accessible by boat, hidden and safe for centuries.

Portovenere, Italy. October, 2012

I met my friend Antonio in 1984 when I traveled to Italy solo and sought out the company of many of the mail artists I’d corresponded with for years. He was living in Lucca, where he still lives now, about a hour’s drive from Portovenere where our ship arrived on Halloween. Antonio generously drove to meet us there, the first time I’d seen him in 25 years. He’s now married, the father of two children, still pursuing his passion for illustration and cartoons. He knew Portovenere and showed us around the small town, up to an old stone church lit by candles, through the main street with its various shops offering samples of the local Ligurian pesto smeared on bread to entice passing shoppers. A short visit, but one that reminded me how friendships endure in spite of years and distance. It was as if no time had passed at all; we picked up where we’d left off in 1988. Ciao, Antonio, and grazie mille.

Dubrovnik, Croatia. October, 2012

Before I went to Croatia, my Dalmatian friend Marin told me that his hometown of Split was a hodgepodge of different architectural styles ranging from Roman, through medieval and Renaissance to whatever. Dubrovnik, he said, was all of a piece. He was right. All polished stone, golden in the sunlight. Bombed and restored. Enchanting. Especially so early in the day, not yet packed with tourists. Like us. And like this young family, enjoying the open spaces before the busloads arrive.

Kotor, Montenegro. October, 2012

You can spot the locals easily in Kotor. They’re the ones not looking up. They’ve grown up around these peaks. The rest of us? Well, it’s hard not to peer skyward in this small port town surrounded by mountains. Comparisons have often been made to Norwegian fjords, such is the grandeur of the cliffs that drop to the water’s edge. And when you’re in Kotor, and you do look up, here is one of the beautiful sights you’re likely to see. High atop the city, this monastery, and further up, a glimpse of the fortress walls that have protected the territory for centuries and are now a major tourist hiking route. We stayed harborside.

Ponza, Italy. October, 2012

When the seas were too rough for us to approach Capri, our ship’s captain opted wisely to head instead to the more sheltered port of Ponza, an island further north, closer to Rome. A bustling summer vacation spot that’s packed with Romans escaping the city’s heat, Ponza was very sleepy and low-key on the off-season cloudy Sunday we set foot on shore. And that was fine with me. Fewer people to get in the way of a lazy hike past its Necco-colored houses, its narrow streets and staircases leading up to nowhere and back again. The sound of Sunday’s soccer game on a TV. A cat wandering by. A dog barking in the distance.

Messina, Sicily. October, 2012

When we were in Messina a year ago, one of the first things I wanted to do was to try an authentic Sicilian version of the arancini I’d enjoyed for years in Boston’s North End. Mission accomplished. On our return this year, I again made a beeline to the student-filled emporium run by the Famulari brothers. Thirty -- count ’em -- variations available in this joint that my friend Michael has called the Baskin-Robbins of arancini. I opted for #1, the traditional rice ball, filled with tomato-meat sauce, peas and cheese. Michael said he’d go for #6, with a filling of fried eggplant, ricotta, tomato-meat sauce, peas, and dubbed (as is a local pasta/eggplant dish) the Norma, after the opera by native son of nearby Catania, Vincenzo Bellini.

Between Montenegro and Sicily. October, 2012

One of the great experiences of our recent sailing with Windstar Cruises was a tour of the ship’s galley kitchens given by Executive Chef Klaus. A down-to-earth, very engaging and kind man, Chef K resembles not at all those driven, competitive types seen regularly on cable TV culinary slapdowns. He laughs. He generously answered questions, pointed out things (like the gi-normous mixers), let us take our time. One of the things I found most fascinating amid all the kitchen’s spotless stainless steel: this huge photo-chart of what the plates should look like before they’re delivered to patrons in the Wind Surf’s three dining rooms. Not exactly paint-by-numbers, but close.