Next Stop: Naxos and Mt. Etna

Parga and Naxos are both tender ports, and getting on and off the tender is a bit complicated. Xingxing balks as soon as he sees the space between the tender and the dock. Someone has to pick him up and deposit him on the far side, and someone else has to help me.  My eyes aren't as good as they used to be.  In fact, my eyes are really bad. I'm supposed to have cataract surgery but I keep putting it off.

Today's excursion is up Mt. Etna, which is still very much alive.  We set off along the Italian Mediterranean coast, which is breathtakingly beautiful.  The cliffs rise steep and stark out of the sea, with houses and rows of lemon trees clinging precariously to the terraces which have been painstakingly hewn from the cliff face.  The water is a thousand shades of aquamarine. The main crop here is lemons, and the area is known for its limoncello, a lemon liqueur.  The drive is fabulous, and for once, I'm sitting on the scenic side of the bus.

Finally, we turn inland. Italians love Mt. Etna, our guides tells us, and call it La Signora. When it erupts there's no pyroclastic blast (as with Vesuvius) but rather, a flow of lava which is so slow that it can be diverted.  Of course, the volcanic soil is rich and wonderful for agriculture, and there is ample water. Soon, we can see the top of the volcano, partially shrouded in heavy, black clouds and smoke. There's another storm coming.

We ascend the slopes of the volcano, where the vegetation goes from wild chestnut trees on the lower slopes to flowering broom and then lichen.  Finally, we reach the tourist stop halfway up the mountain. The bright buildings the the cable car that goes to the top of the volcano are set  in the midst of the lava and ash from the 1992 eruption, which buried the original buildings.  They're still there, our guide tells us, many feet below.  The cable car isn't running, because the volcano is active. Also, the weather is deteriorating rather quickly.  There's thunder, and the occasional fork of lightening.  This isn't at all to Xingxing's taste, but he pads obediently after me through the ash.

The gathering storm adds to the eerie, surreal feel of the landscape.  You definitely know you're in the vicinity of a live volcano.  It's an odd, humbling feeling. We wander across the mountains of ash, some of it an odd, orange color from the metal deposits in the volcano.

We're actually quite lucky with the weather.  A few hailstones fall, but by that time we're all back in the bus and on the way down.  An amazing sight, and awesome experience.  I'm thinking it totally makes up for yesterday.

Beyond Parga: Black Rocks and Baklava

Parga is a pretty little Greek port and I would have loved to explore it, but we're booked on a tour to Dodona, the site of the oldest oracle in Greece. It's even older than the Delphi Oracle, dedicated to the worship of Zeus Dodonaios and mentioned in the Homeric epics. This is also where Persephone got kidnapped by Pluto, God of the Underworld. And -- it is said -- the source of the Styx River. So I'm really expecting something special.

After an hour's ride past lots and lots of olive trees, we reach the shrine.  It is a vast, undulating open area. The grass is dry and brittle as hay, but we do see a clump of the star-shaped white flowers that tempted the hapless Persephone. There's a narrow, dirt trail.  Off to the right, a couple of small buildings. The toilets, our guide tell us. Several people decide to use them, and the rest of us wait. Suddenly, there's a scream and everyone comes running back.  Apparently there's a huge dog asleep in the toilets.

We set off down the dirt track.  Watch out for snakes, our guide tells us. Most of them aren't poisonous, but one of them is. Between the huge dog in the toilets and the snakes, I'm beginning to get a bit nervous.  But Xingxing is enjoying himself, trotting and sniffing. He probably smells the other dog.

Ahead of us, there are a few big, black square stones. And an oak tree, with more stones set in a square around it.  This was the oracle, the oak tree. The priests interpreted the deity's will from the rustling of the leaves, the sound of water around its roots, the flight of the doves that nested in its branches or the sound of the brass cauldrons that surrounded it. The doves and the cauldrons are long gone. And of course, this isn't the original oak tree, either.

Beyond the tree, there's a partially excavated amphitheater with an orange crane arm hovering over it. However, the Greek financial crisis has halted work, and there's no telling when it will begin again.  What's been uncovered so far are the foundations of what was once a temple of Aphrodite, a temple of Themis, a temple of Hercules and even an early Christian basilica -- but all that's left are this random scattering of stones and the odd pillar. The 2500 oracle tablets, bronze vessels and votive statues that were discovered during the excavation are all in the Archaeological Museum at Ioannina.

Ioannina is our next stop, but we don't go to the Archaeological Museum. Instead, we visit Ali Pasha's castle -- but that doesn't exist anymore, either.  It burned down.  Still, we can see where it used to be. We visit a small museum filled with icons from destroyed monasteries and finish up on the Esplanade along Ioannina's large lake, which is pretty enough but so polluted you can't drink the water. Our guide tells us that she loves coming here, because they make the best baklava in Greece and she's going to buy a little box of it to take home to her kids.  I give her ten euros and ask her to buy me a box, too.  It turns out to be the high point of the day.

When we got back to the Azamara Quest, I discover that Xingxing is covered in burrs.  Hundreds of them.  It takes me the rest of the afternoon to pluck them all out.

The Walled City of Kotor

We glimpsed the Old City last time, but didn't really have time to explore it, as our tour of Montenegro took up most of the day. So today, we've opted for a walking tour. The gates to the old city are practically across the street from where the Azamara Quest is docked, so it'll be an easy day. After yesterday, we can both do with an easy day.

All of these walled cities along the Adriatic Coast have come under the control of one great empire after the next for thousands of years. Romans, Venetians, Turks and finally Tito. And they all look pretty much the same with their limestone houses and narrow, cobbled streets and red tiled roofs. People still live in them, and cats and dogs, too. I keep an eye out for strays, because Xingxing isn't used to encountering dogs off-leash. No dogs, this morning. But there are a few kittens playing in the courtyard and their Mommy seems to be fascinated by Xingxing.

We start in the main square, where our guide points out the black iron T-bars on the outside of some of the houses. The region is prone to earthquakes, we're told. So now after an earthquake when they rebuild damaged houses, they insert these bars which go all the way through and protect the structure from future quakes.

Workmen are setting up something that looks like a catwalk outside St. Tryphon's church, where the relics of Kotor's patron saint are kept in an upper room and only brought out on the saint's festival day. The catwalk is for a major fashion show that will be held here this evening. We make our way around it and enter the church. Nobody objects to Xingxing. I'm always amazed at the soaring grandeur of these medieval churches and cathedrals. One thing that's interesting about this one is the incorporation of several Roman pillars (obviously from a structure thar pre-dated this one by hundreds of years) with the limestone pillars.

They're pretty sure there's at least one ancient city buried beneath Kotor. Of course, excavation is impossible. Even so, these coastal lands have been occupied for a long, long time. When we leave the church, the cat is waiting for us. It follows us to the Maritime Museum, formerly a noble's palace. Here, an exhibit of models of ancient sailing ships is particularly fascinating. What would the tough men who sailed in these little ships make of the Azamara Quest? I wonder. Xingxing is more interested in the cat, who is once again waiting for us outside.

There is only one tree in the Old City. It is supposedly 350 years old. We glimpse it behind a courtyard. Xingxing only has eyes for the cat, which follows us all the way back to the gate and then sits there and watches us leave. It probably knows all the dogs in the Old City, and is curious about this interloper. I imagine if you asked Xingxing what he thought of the Old City, he'd tell you all about the cat.

We have now seen more of Croatia and Montenegro than anyone I know. We've eaten Montenegro cheese, and sampled Montenegro wine, which is so good I bought a bottle to take home. I also bought a little hair-clip which -- like everything else in the world -- was made in China.  Back at the ship, we take advantage of a photo op with Azamara Quest Captain Jose.

Walking the Walls of Dubrovnik

The night we leave Venice, there's quite a storm -- thunder, lightening, the whole bit. Maybe that's why there was flooding on the Venetian waterfront. We don't really feel the storm here on the Azamara Quest. But we can see it, through the windows, and it lasts all night. In the morning, there's an announcement. The storm has damaged our radar guidance system. (Perhaps we got hit by lightening) So we won't be going to Korkula, as scheduled, but straight on to Dubrovnik, for repairs. We've had tours every day, so this afternoon in Dubrovnik is a "day off" for both of us and we enjoy a leisurely walk along the marina, watching people fish.

Just as well, because the next morning, we tackle the walls of Dubrovnik. The brochure warns that there are 150 steps, and we've been practicing at home, walking up the stairs to our condo instead of using the elevator. This, I tell Xingxing, will be a piece of cake.  We make it up the first two long, steep flights. Just like I said, a piece of cake. Then I realize they lied. After those first 150 steps, there are at least 500 more.

The walls are worth it. The view from up here is amazing. Much more so than in the Old City itself, you get the feel of what it might have been like to live in a medieval walled city during the Middle Ages. You look down at the hundreds of houses, huddled together along the narrow streets within the walls. Seeing everything from above is a whole new perspective. But the walls follow the lie of the land, so you are constantly going up and down, and up and down. Many, many steps. Xingxing trots gamely along. Good thing we're doing this while you're still young, I tell him. 

Halfway around, there's a way down. But we've come this far, and it seems a shame not to completely circumnavigate the walls, having made such a noble start.  So that's what we do. Carefully. Taking our time. Somehow, we've become separated from the rest of the group. We've probably fallen behind. So what? It's not a race. We soldier on, and eventually find ourselves back at the starting point. We make our careful way down the steep, steep steps. (Going down is actually more difficult than going up) We've done it! Three cheers for Xingxing, who is probably the only Shih Tzu in the world to have walked all the way around the walls of Dubrovnik! And three cheers for me, too.

We sit in the shade beside the big fountain, catching our breath. A kindly English family brings Xingxing a cup of cold water. It feels so good to sit down that we stay here for rather a while, watching tour groups come and go. Our guide appears, flustered. She was worried about us. Apparently, we'd somehow gotten ahead of the group. Never mind. Everything's fine. And now we can truly and honestly we've walked the walls of Dubrovnik.

The Doge's Secret Dungeons

Today is turnaround day -- most of the passengers leave the ship, and a new group comes aboard for the next cruise. We're doing what they call back-to-back cruises, so we get an extra day in Venice.

We set out early, because we're doing the so-called "secret tour" of the Doge's Palace Dungeons. You have to book ahead for this one, as they only do them in the morning during summer months and there's only one English language tour per day. We go through the usual no-dogs-allowed rigmarole, but arrangements have been made and we eventually find ourselves in the Palace's huge, interior courtyard.

The dungeons are everything I ever imagined a dungeon to be, but lower, smaller and much, much darker. Prisoners arrived at a tiny landing by boat, to be hustled up dank, stone steps and thrown into a pitch-dark cell not much larger than a queen-size mattress. Two or three prisoners might already be there and depending on the time of year, the water might be up to their knees. Many of them never even made it to the torture chambers, much less to trial, because more often than not they went mad and killed one another.

We climb dimly-lit stone steps to more cells. Casanova was incarcerated in one of these, and actually allowed to have a bit of furniture. It wouldn't have been much fun, but at least it's not flooded. More steep steps lead to the administration offices, small cubicles with tiny windows. Further up, the interrogation area, where prisoners were questioned and tortured. Finally we reach "the leads" which were reserved for privileged prisoners, and tucked directly under the lead roof of the palace, not subject to flooding but stifling in the summer and freezing in the winter. Casanova escaped from one of these.

We also tour the Palace itself, one room after the next --and one room bigger than the next -- every square inch of wall and ceiling covered with oil painting by Venetian masters, and elaborate, gilded moulding sand carvings. It reminded me of Versailles and it was so endless that we got lost.

We retuned to the ship along the Zattere, where we'd walked several hours earlier. But now, the tide was coming in and it was flooding. The little cafes had moved their tables and chairs back inside as wavelets washed across the pavement. At several points it got so deep that I had to pick Xingxing up and carry him, wondering to myself how much longer Venice is going to be able to keep its head above water.

Venice: Island of Glass, Island of Lace

We re-enter Venice majestically, via the Grand Canal. San Marco Square and the Doge's Palace is to our right, and as we move towards the Canale Della Giudecca, the lovely Santa Maria de Salute is straight ahead. We're lucky to be able to enjoy this birds-eye view of Venice. Cruise ships won't be allowed to do this for very much longer. Even if they're being towed, theirwake is damaging Venice's foundations. As all of Venice is constructed upon a base of millions of wooden poles stuck into the mud of the lagoon, it can't be raised. But the lagoon is sinking, and the tides are rising. So you can see why they're worried. We dock at San Basiglio, an easy walk to San Marco. Again, the advantage of cruising in a small ship!

This afternoon we visit Murano, the Island of Glass, and Burano, the Island of Lace. The glass-blowing demonstration is awesome. In less than a minute, a molten lump of glass is transformed into a perfect, rearing horse, with every detail of mane and hooves perfect. The artisan creates a vase even more quickly. Xingxing is fascinated. He thinks it's cooking!

Burano is unexpectedly picturesque, with every house painted a different color. The story goes that when the fishermen returned home after days at sea, they'd get so drunk they couldn't find their own houses. So the women painted each house a different color, and their husbands had no excuse for not coming home to the right house. 

Sadly, the art of lace-making is dying. Young women are more interested in their cell phones and Facebook pages. But you have to admit, the old-fashioned, labor-intensive lacework is beautiful. I admire a lace hair-clip shaped like a butterfly. It took ten days to make and costs over $100. But I lose hair-clips, or the clasp breaks. It's just too much money, in these days of plastic!

There's time to wander along the canals and over the little bridges, and to enjoy a glass of wine at one of the many tiny cafés. Xingxing sniffs at every corner and lifts his leg at every post, enjoying being ashore.

Dubrovnik in the Rain

Not rain, really. More like a drizzle. And it didn't spoil things a bit. Just the opposite. The massive walls that surround the old city and protect the port and its tiny beach loom even more formidably against a grey sky. They filmed parts of Game of Thrones here. This bit was Kings Landing. They'll be filming next season's  episodes here as well, and there are entire tours available themed around the Game of Thrones. I've just started reading the first book of the series, so that makes it especially interesting. 

Dubrovnik was a city state, like Venice. It successfully fended off the Venetians, the Turks and everyone else until Napoleon, who gained access to the city by insisting that he and his troops were just passing through. Our word "quarantine" derives from the Dubrovnik rule that anyone entering the city by sea had to wait for 40 (quarantine) days before being allowed to enter the city, to make sure they weren't carrying the plague.

Thanks to the rain, the Old City isn't terribly crowded. Xingxing trots dutifully along, smelling the smells. Like all of the restored, medieval walled cities we've seen along the Adriatic coast, limestone predominates. Limestone cobbles, limestone walls. We learn that Dubrovnik was the First Nation to recognize American independence and that the White House was built with Croatian stone.

After our city tour we travel up into the mountains. We stop to admire -- and photograph -- the walled city, with the "modern" city spilling out on three sides and creeping up the mountain flanks. The walls and forts are truly massive, the forts rounded to better withstand bombardment from the sea.

We stop at Orasac, where we watch a sweet-tempered white horse operate an ancient olive press and then sample the olive oil, which is unlike any I have ever tasted. Then we sit under a vine-covered trellis on a patio overlooking the sea, sampling ham, cheese, vegetables fresh from the garden in front of us and wonderful, local wine. Someone brings a bowl of cold water for Xingxing. The sun is shining, now. It's all just beautiful

Hvar: The Lavender Island

We're off to a spectacular start, visiting the Spagnola Fort in the mountains above the town of Hvar. The harbor and the surrounding islands are spread out in a panoramic vista before us. Caper bushes grow on the stone walls of the fortress and the scent of lavender is everywhere. 

At one point, Hvar's sheltered harbor was a home port for the mighty Venetian Navy's Adriatic Fleet. Now, it's a favorite with the rich and the famous who moor their yachts along the wide, inviting esplanade. I'm talking about the seriously rich, people like Bill Gates. Our guide tells us which restaurant is their favorite, in. As ewe want to do a bit of celebrity watching. Trouble is, I wouldn't know Bill Gates if I fell over him.

We drive to Starigrad, on the other side of the island. The local economy is supported by lavender (oils, soaps, bath gels, fragrances) wine and -- of course -- tourism. The north and south sides of the island are connected by a tunnel through the mountains, which also carries the island's drinking water, piped in from Split. There are no hospitals on Hvar and pregnant women travel by ferry to Split to give birth. Sometimes, a baby is born on the ferry. When this happens, the child gets a free ferry pass, for life.

We stop at a Dominican Monastery, where Xingxing enjoys the garden in the courtyard and I admire the ancient books and manuscripts in the glass cases of the little museum. How far we've come from hand-written manuscripts and parchment pages!  Our last stop is at Konoba Vrisnik, a little establishment set in beautiful gardens, where artichokes are in bloom. I have never seen an artichoke in bloom. Here, we sit at wooden tables on a cobblestone pavement, sampling another local prosciutto, with bread, cheese and wine. The red wine is quite good, and Xingxing enjoys the garden.

Montenegro: A Cliffhanger

Kotor, Montenegro lies in one of three bays at the end of the southern-most fjord in Europe. Our approach was quite spectacular, and we were able to moor right alongside the quay. This is one of the advantages of traveling on a smaller ship. We took a little walk, Xingxing did what needed to be done and then we tried to board our tour bus.

The driver went ballistic. No way was he going to allow a dog on his bus. Never mind that arrangements had been made in advance. Never mind that the dog was a service dog. He leapt out of the bus, gesticulating wildly and screaming into his cell phone. Nobody could talk to him. Nobody could finish a sentence. He just paced back and forth, yelling at everyone. He was definitely what Australians call a nasty piece of work.

Long story short, they found us another bus that was doing the same tour. These things happen. Some people hate dogs. It's sad, but you have to be prepared for incidents like this, whether your dog is a service dog or not. But this wasn't the cliffhanger.

I'm glad we didn't end up missing the tour, because this section of the Adriatic coastline affords some truly spectacular views. We stopped in the former capital (during the 19th century, Montenegro was actually a political player) and drove through the karst formations of the Lovecen Mountains, known as Montenegro's stone sea, to a completely charming tavern where we sampled yet another local prosciutto and red wine that was so good I bought a bottle to take home.

The climax of the tour was a hair-raising drive down the mountain, negotiating 25 separate hairpin turns. I'd say the road was about ten feet wide. We met cars coming the other way, and that was scary enough. Then we rounded a turn and came face to face with another tour bus. Sheer cliff to the right, sheer drop on the left. The drivers conferred, with many gestures. Then we began to slowly back up, the chasm yawning below is. To think I'd insisted upon joining this tour!  Finally, the other bus somehow managed to edge past, and we continued down the mountain. These things happen, the guide said cheerfully. Xingxing slept through everything.

The Archbishop of Split Doesn't Like Dogs

We leave Zadar after lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon cruising the Croatian Inside Passage towards Split. I never knew Croatia had an Inside Passage. I never knew Croatia was made up of over 1000 islands. True confessions, before the Bosnian War I'd never even heard of Croatia. How many Shih Tzus have visited Croatia? People have dogs here, of course. This is the Dalmatia Coast, famous for --you guessed it -- Dalmatians. We just haven't seen one, yet.

Split is old, too. Half of it is walled, the so-called Old City. In 295 CE the Roman Emperor Diocletian decided to retire here and built a palace for himself, where he lived until 313. Subsequent Roman rulers also used it as a summer home until Rome fell. The palace was abandoned for a while, and then the locals moved in. Some of their descendants are still there, living in apartments purchased by their ancestors. Can you imagine living in Diocletian's palace?

 

Diocletian's mausoleum is inside what is now the Cathedral of St. Duje, one of the oldest in the world. Xingxing and I aren't allowed in. Arrangements have been made in advance, but that doesn't matter. Our guide -- a sturdy, dour woman wearing incongruous red patent leather shoes -- is not helpful. The Archbishop of Split doesn't like dogs, she snaps. So what are we supposed to do? I ask her. Go back to the ship, she says. I don't want to do that. So we wait outside until the group emerges. She's not pleased to see we're still here, but she clearly isn't game to stop us from rejoining the tour.

We finish our tour at the 100 year old Ostarija Tavern, where the walls are covered with old artifacts and photographs of historic interest, none of which are explained by our guide, who is already stuffing her face with local prosciutto, cheese and apple strudel. 

We cruise on to Hvar, where we have an AzAmazing evening. This involves a long walk and a number of shallow, poorly lit steps to a venue where we are seated so far back we can hardly see the stage, which  turns out to be a blessing. It was supposed to be a cello concert. In fact, it is a horrible, awful racket. Streaming videos, throbbing heavy metal and the cellist -- Ana Rucner -- bashing hell out of a cello beneath flashing colored lights. People close enough to see what was going on called it musical pornography. When things are good, I say so. This isn't  good. This isn't even bad. This is bloody dreadful. We're both glad when it's over and we can make our careful way back to the ship.

Excuse the Confusion!

IYou're noticing that all of this is somewhat out of sequence. And that my blog from Zadar doesn't include any photographs. Let me warn you -- unless I can untangle the technology, my blog from Split won't have any photographs, either.

We are experiencing what the television channels call technical difficulties. First of all, the internet service aboard ship is slow, and tends to cut out at crucial moments. Also, it's expensive. You buy a certain number of minutes, fiddle around trying to log in, try to upload something and then when you're almost done you run out of minutes, you're automatically logged off and since you didn't finish what you began, you have to start all over again. This is frustrating, especially when your stuff simply disappears into cyberspace, where nobody can hear you scream.

I also made the mistake of buying a mini IPad just before I left. I love it. Unfortunately, I can't drive it very well. In particular, I can't persuade it to talk to my iPhone. So the photos I take with my iPhone go up into the "cloud" and stay there. That's where the photos of Zadar and Split are, at the moment.

But I shall soldier on.  Watch this space. Sooner or later, I'll get it together.

Zadar: The Sea Organ

We wake up in Croatia, at Zadar. The Azamara Quest is a smaller ship, so we're able to moor right alongside the pier, rather than having to drop anchor in the harbor and use tenders to go ashore. This is great, because we can get off the ship and do our morning walk as easily as if we were at home. So after we've had breakfast in bed (another joy provided by the Azamara Quest) we set out.

There's a concrete landing, with steps leading down into the crystal-clear sea. There's a large, glass circle set into the concrete, and some other, smaller circles. Further along, there's a park. It's quite early, and very beautiful and serene. Suddenly, I hear music. It is strange, unearthly music. It sounds like something you'd hear through the windows of a cathedral. It stops for a moment, then starts again. Where is it coming from?  Not the ship, I'm sure of that. And it can't be a radio, because there's nobody here except us.  We continue walking, and the music fades away. Xingxing eventually does what dogs do, and we walk back towards the ship. But this time, there's no music. Did I imagine it?

The mystery of the music is solved at the beginning of our tour of Zadar. In fact, it is Zadar's biggest tourist attraction, the thing that has lured cruise ships to the city. It is a Sea Organ, a unique musical instrument designed by engineers and musicians to be played not by human beings, but by the sea itself. When we disembarked, we'd been standing on it!  Several dozen pipes have been laid beneath the stone steps and when there are waves, the action of the waves compresses the air in the pipes and creates the music I heard earlier. But of course, you have to have waves. When the cruise ships come in and the sea is calm, our guide tells us, they sometimes have to wait for a passing speedboat to create a wake and activate the organ.

Zadar is very old. In fact, its name means, Already Existed (before the Roman Empire) and people have lived here since 1000 BC. Old Zadar has a ring road, but the rest is for pedestrians only. The main street was built by the Romans, and still has some of its original cobblestones. It is just wide enough for ten soldiers to march abreast.  There are coffee shops everywhere. We visit the Benedictine Convent Museum, which houses the gold and silver treasures that weren't stolen during the Venetian Fourth Crusade, as well as some wonderful Renaissance paintings, including a Carpaccio.  The nuns are a bit taken aback by Xingxing's presence, but when the guide explains he's a service dog, they bless us both.

The Adriatic Adventure Begins

 The plan for this morning is San Marco Square (before the crowds) and then return to the hotel, check out and board the Azamara Quest in time for the lunch buffet. One of the things I love about cruises is that you never have to worry about where you're going to eat. It's always there and it's always delicious.

  

By now, Xingxing knows his way around the hotel environs so well that he's even got a favorite spot to do what dogs do. He settles in so easily. He's such a good traveler!

Early morning is a good time to visit San Marco Square.  You really get a sense of the sweep and majesty of it. The elegant, flanking  colonnades on three sides and the magnificence of the domes and spires (even half-covered in scaffolding as they are now) of the basilica itself forms a space that is both majestic and inviting, quite different from the forbidding immensity of St. Peter's at the Vatican. There aren't a lot of people around, although Florian's seems to be open. I consider sitting and having a cup of coffee, just to say I did it. But the point of Florian's is people-watching and at the moment, the pigeons outnumber the people. So we walk around, window-shopping in the long arcades as the square gradually comes to life.

We've booked a water taxi to take us to the ship.  There is also the option of public transport, a vaporetto. We see people heading for the vaporetto landings, dragging their wheeled suitcases behind them along the cobbles. It's much less expensive, public transport. But not at my age, not with a suitcase in one hand and a dog in the other.  I did all that when I was young. At this point, I reckon I've earned the right to enjoy a bit of luxury.

Once we've reached the docks, there is a long, long walk to the terminal. We take it slowly, but it is a really long walk. Finally, we arrive. Boarding is a complicated business, but when they see Xingxing, Azamara staff make it easy for us. There's only one glitch, right at the very end of the process -- an Italian customs officer won't let us leave Italy unless I show her Xingxing's passport. EU residents have pet passports. But Americans don't. And this woman has never seen a service dog, much less a service dog boarding a cruise ship.  But eventually it gets sorted out.

When Xingxing sees the gangplank he gets really excited.  He remembers. I'd wondered if he would. Then someone calls out, Xingxing!  They remember him, too!  He's thrilled. I'm thrilled. What a lovely greeting, I think.

We haven't got a balcony, this time. But our stateroom is huge, and there's a big, square window. There's a big mirror facing the bed, and I take a photo of us. They've put Xingxing's potty box in the same place as last time, as well. We enjoy a glass of champagne (well, I enjoy it) and then we visit the buffet.  Our Adriatic Adventure aboard the Azamara Quest is about to begin.

Venice:The Missing Blog

   Whoops! We've lost an entire blog in cyberspace!

So let's try this again: Our first full day in Venice.  Art and pizza.

After breakfast and the morning walk, we're ready to tackle the Academia. We've got our tickets and we need to be there at 10.30 am, although once we're there we can stay as long as we like. I think this is a really good idea, only admitting a certain number of visitors at a time. 

It's an easy, interesting walk, past little shops and sandwich places, over tiny bridges and through cobbled alleys to St. Stefan's square and the Academia Bridge. 

 I've brought the muzzle, but nobody says anything about needing it, so it remains in my bag, unused. The actual building is smaller than I expected. All my life I've been hearing about this museum, so I guess I thought it would be enormous.

The exhibition halls are on the second floor. You can rent an audio commentary for $6 and although it doesn't cover everything, it's pretty good.

This is Renaissance art. The patrons are Catholic and the subject is The Bible. Artists expressed piety (genuine or feigned) rather than themselves. Even so, they allowed themselves an amount of artistic freedom. Veronese's Last Supper -- complete with dogs, buffoons, drunkards  and even Germans -- got him hauled up before the Inquisition. They gave him three months to "fix" the painting. Instead of repainting it, Veronese simply changed the title to Feast at the House of Levi and everyone was happy.

After two hours of art, we make our way back up the shallow steps of the Academia Bridge and down into St. Stefan's square. Half a dozen cafés are serving lunch al fresco and we allow ourselves to be tempted by Art Blu Cafe. The fresh, hot, thin-crusted pizza is delicious, and a generous serving of red wine completes the meal. Xingxing is happy with a bowl of cold water.

We see quite a few dogs in Venice, mostly on leashes but sometimes not. They all seem to be pretty well behaved.

I could walk the streets all day, just looking at the shop windows. But Xingxing has had enough. So we return to the hotel, where Xingxing curls up at my feet as I check my mail. Xingxing looks up at me. His eyes say, Let's get on the bed and take a nap. 

Maybe we should save San Marco Square for tomorrow morning, when it will be less crowded. Suddenly, a nap sounds like an excellent idea.

The Venetian Experience

This hotel was originally two separate palaces which have been joined to create the Westin Europa and Regina. One of them was the Casa Alvisi, which belonged to a New Yorker who became a famous Venetian hostess who was the model for Mrs. Prest in Henry James' The Aspern Papers. Our room is on the second floor and small, but quite elegant. The two, shuttered windows open onto an air shaft, so there's no view. There's no clock either, which I find a bit odd. And no ice. Henry James would not have been impressed.

We breakfast on the terrace overlooking the Grand Canal. It's a breakfast buffet, and I am intrigued by the thin, lacy, translucent Venetian bacon. So is Xingxing. The sea gulls like it, too. One of them swoops down and snatches some from the startled diner next to us. Little motor taxis potter back and forth on the canal.  Opposite, the white domes and cupolas of Santa Maria Della Salute gleam in the morning sunshine. I just sit and and watch the Venetian world go by. Xingxing is more interested in the bacon.

This morning we retrace our steps across the Academia Bridge to go to the Peggy Guggenheim museum. I notice that there are hundreds of padlocks attached to the railings of the bridge, although I have no idea why and make a mental note to ask the hotel Concierge about this. The most interesting thing about the Peggy Guggenheim Collection is not the art -- although there are a couple of interesting, early Jackson Pollocks -- but the villa itself. You get a real sense of what it might be like to live here. The dazzle of water and light, the airiness. Of course, it wouldn't hurt to be fabulously rich. There's a black and white photograph of Peggy in her bedroom, sitting on a four-poster bed with a Calder mobile dangling overhead, looking happy.

After a light lunch we explore the small garden near our hotel, just past the water taxi station. In the old days it was the site of the city granary.  The little garden that was subsequently built on the site was originally private, but now  it's open to the public, a shady little enclave of gravel paths and benches. I thought Xingxing might like a change from the concrete and paving stones, but he makes it clear he prefers the Campo San Moises where tourists queue up for gondola rides. 

The 9-hour time difference has affected each of us differently.  I'm having trouble sleeping at night, and find myself needing an afternoon nap. Xingxing is sleeping well enough, but seems a little bit off his food and needs to poop at odd intervals. Just as well we have these few days to adjust before boarding the Azamara Quest.

  

Venice: A Cacaphony of Smells

A water taxi whooshes us across the bay (or whatever it is that surrounds Venice), past other islands and into the Grand Canal, and deposits us at the Westin Regina and Europa. I immediately take Xingxing for a walk.

He is ecstatic.  He is so excited that he's running in little circles.  So many dogs!  So many smells! He doesn't know where to pee first! Nor is he willing to let a single, savouy stone pass untouched. It's all paving stones and no grass, and I guess the odors last longer. We procede from light post to corner to hydrant, Xingxing lifting his leg every five seconds.  The pump soon runs dry, but that doesn't stop him. He is in ofalactory heaven, and it's all I can do to drag him back to the hotel.  Now I know how he must feel when I'm standing and stare at scenery, or paintings. He wonders, What is she looking at? Just as I'm wondering, What is he smelling? 

Having paid an arm and a leg to be allowed to check in early (it's basically 5 AM for us) I am now too excited to take a nap.  As soon as I unpack, we set out to see the sights.  Xingxing is all for exploring every wonderful stink along the way, but we do manage to get as far as San Marco Square, which is wall-to-wall tourists.

Strange as it sounds, everything is smaller than I'd expected.  The buildings are lower, the streets are narrower and the scale is extremely navigable.  When I look at the map I've been given, things that look as if they'd be miles from one another are within twenty steps.  There are no cars.  This is definitely a city for walkers.

I have no idea how Xingxing is going to handle the time difference, which is nine hours.  My plan is to give him his dinner at five in the evening, and see what happens.  I'm not a bit hungry, so I content myself with popcorn and a Scotch. Xingxing eats his dinner with relish.  So far so good.  We're both asleep before dark.

At 4 AM, I am awakened by the canine equivalent of, Ahem!  Xingxing is sitting on the floor, staring at the door.  Can you at least hold it until the sun rises? I ask him.  No. He can't. He has to go. He has to go now.

I scramble into my clothes and we go downstairs. The lobby is deserted. But the door is open, so we proceed out into the courtyard in back (the Grand Canal is in front) of the hotel.  As always, Xingxing needs to find the right spot.  And there are so many spots to choose from!  He drags me into the narrow, dark alley that leads to Calle Barozzi, where the gondolas pick up their passengers. He doesn't mind that it's dark.  He sees with his nose, sniffing, pausing, peeing, still searching for the elusive spot.  I'm a bit nervous. The streets are deserted.  Is this safe? 

The streets are quite different, at night.  I suddenly feel that the city has breathed a sigh of relief and is enjoying this respite from tourists and tourism.  It's as if the ghosts have come out to play.  I don't mean this in a scary sense. It isn't scary at all. It's sort of magical.  We make our way down Via XXII Marzo, past the designer shops. Finally, Xingxing squats.

Back at the hotel, the door is locked.  There is no buzzer, no bell.  I peer inside. The lobby is empty. I tug at the door. It is definitely locked. Suddenly, someone appears and opens the door.  He had to go, I explain weakly. The man who opened the door for us looks a bit bemused.  Probably thinking, Crazy Americans!

Flying Into a Time Warp

This is amazing. This is incredible. This is like flying used to be 30 years ago, when the flight was part of the holiday, rather than something to be endured in order to have the holiday. This is US Airways Escort Service to Europe.

Your seat becomes a sort of cubicle without walls. You've got a reading light, a TV screen and a complimentary set of Bose headphones, plus space to store whatever you've brought on board. Two gourmet meals that are better than you'd get in a lot of restaurants. And best of all, the seat goes flat and turns into a bed, so you can sleep.

The staff are warm, friendly and helpful.  No hassle about Xingxing. Smiles and laughter. Oh well, you're

thinking. That's Escort Class. That's what you pay extra for.  Not so!  I had a full-fare First Class ticket on United Airlines last summer, and I was treated like a piece of human garbage.  On the ground and in the air, every single US Airways staff member I encountered was unfailingly helpful, whereas every United Airlines staff member I encountered last summer was surly, nasty and unhelpful. 

People think there's no difference between airlines, but there is!  

When we arrived in Venice, another surprise awaited us. Nobody checked Xingxing's microchip. Nobody even asked to see his papers. My passport was stamped, I collected my suitcase, and followed everyone else through a door into the Arrivals Hall, Xingxing trotting obediently at my heels. Welcome to Italy!

One other thing -- which you may not know about. (I didn't know about it)  In the United States, the TSA opens and inspects certain pieces of luggage, searching for prohibited items. That's okay, I guess.  But here's the thing. If you lock your luggage, TSA breaks open the locks. The notice they leave in your bag says they "sincerely regret having to do this". However, they're not liable for any damage they may do in the process.

My luggage wasn't locked, so there was no damage.  But I wonder. Did they select my bag because it wasn't locked?  Or is it a truly random process?

Anyhow, here we are in Venice.

A Pause in Pennsylvania

Traveling straight through from Phoenix to Venice -- a four-hour flight followed by a nine-hour flight -- would have been too much for Xingxing, not to mention me!  So we overnighted in Philadelphia, at a cute "concept" hotel near the airport called Aloft.

Even if I wasn't considering Xingxing, a stopover was a good idea. Sure, it takes a little more time and costs a little more money. But I'm retired. Time is what I've got. And as for the money ... which  is better? To spend a bit more money and arrive in Venice bright-eyed and well rested?  Or to arrive in Venice exhausted, and collapse in my very expensive hotel room for a day or so?

Aloft is a chain of hotels. They're a bit different.  I especially like the way the rooms are laid out, almost like little studio apartments rather than typical hotel rooms.  The color schemes are pretty, and repeated in the corridors and lobby areas.  All the amenities, and no  charge for extras.

So we're having a restful day, and will fly out early this evening.

Never Underestimate The Bureaucracy

For our previous trips to Mexico, Canada, the Bahamas, Dominican Republic and Haiti, the only documentation Xingxing needed was a little pink slip, signed by our veterinarian. One copy was sent to the USDA office in Albuquerque, New Mexico (we don't have a USDA office in Arizona) and I was given a copy to show at the border.

Italy is a different matter. The form for Italy is six pages long. And it has to be stamped, signed and sealed by the USDA. This means it has to be sent to Albuquerque, approved, and then sent back to Scottsdale.  And you have to do all of this within seven days of traveling.

Not a problem, our veterinarian said. We fill out the form, fax it to Albuquerque, they send it back because some little thing is wrong with it, we fix it and then you overnight it to Albuquerque, they stamp it and then they overnight it back to you. Today is Wednesday. So they get tomorrow, send it back to you and you get it on Friday. You're not leaving until Monday, so you should be okay.

But Albuquerque didn't like our form. During that grueling Wednesday it was faxed to them four times, and each time, it was rejected. This was wrong. That was unclear. Something that had been crossed out because it didn't apply to Xingxing had to be initialed in a certain way. They wouldn't just say, We need this, this and this. They did it piecemeal, item by item. By the time we were done, I had less than half an hour to get it to Fedex -- and then Fedex refused to sell me the necessary return label, because I didn't have an account with them! By the time we made it to UPS we had only minutes to spare ... But we made it.

Albuquerque wasn't impressed. Maybe they'd get to it on Thursday, but maybe they wouldn't.  What was I going to do? We couldn't go without the proper papers. Perhaps I'd have to fly to Albuquerque on Friday and pick them up in person. I fretted, helpless. Late Thursday afternoon, I got a phone call from Albuquerque. The paperwork was completed and the documents were on their way back to Scottsdale. They finally arrived on Friday afternoon.

Why should it have to be so hard? Why can't Americans have Pet Passports, the way they do in Europe? For that matter, why isn't there a USDA office in Arizona? They don't even have agriculture in New Mexico!

Xingxing wasn't at all stressed by any of it. But he knew something was amiss and did the only thing a Shih Tzu can do to make things better -- snuggled close, and kissed me every chance he got.