Lessons Learned ( Covering several days at Sea )

Lessons Learned

A week aboard a 35 paasenger sail is a bit like the story of the Goldilocks and Three Bears. Whether it is a  port , or a time of day to sail or a dinner companion, all may be good but only some are 'just right'. 

Corfu was a tourist town, run amok with passengers from the Ruby Princess and souvenir shops selling tee-shirts. The New Port, where we docked, was a five minute blue bus ride or a twenty-five minute walk. Cruising being a more or less sedentary sport for passengers, we opted for what turned out to be a long, hot walk along not too clean or too enticing streets, arriving at the edge of Old Town a bit sweaty. Wondering where the Greek Isle white walls and blue shutters were hiding, we soon discovered Corfu is less an island like Mykonos and more a town like Dubrovnik, with forts and walls built by the Turks and Romans. 

We unexpectedly stumbled upon the synagogue, still surviving, after most of its 2200 Jews were killed in Auschwitz, with only 60 current members, a Rabbi flown in from Israel for the High Holidays, and a Bar Mitzvah maybe once a year consisting of only reading a transliteration of the Barucha on Shabbat, as there are no teachers. 

The large main square is open and filled with park, cricket field and cafes. The specialty sweets are worth a bite, the fort likely not worth the climb and the  Euro fifty for the bus back a good idea. We take the rest of the day to hang out and read and relax before we sail on the next destination. Overall a bit too big.

But before we leave port, there is a Greek dinner buffet and some Greek dancing awaiting us as four young men and women board in traditional costumes and turn our salon into a stage. Believe it or not, everyone gets into the act, including the five passengers they quietly secret away to costume and perform. The cruise director must have clued them in as to who to choose, as the roles were perfectly matched to personalities. We all were hysterical as Gaza sat dressed as a Greek King while Patricia, who loves being the center of attention and performing, and Andrea, who has the best dry sense of humor, belly danced away in red harem pants with bells jingling. 

The dancers depart but the dancing goes on until late as we twist and swim and disco like old farts having a really good time. Everyone joins in, including Hassim,  one of our sailors, who can really shimmy ( He is Egyptian...)There's a congo line, with me in the lead, snaking round the sofas and chairs, shots of grappa and glasses of Ouzo and thanks to the fun loving Aussies aboard, we are informed that after less than five full days, we have set the record for the most chit books (these are the receipt books where you sign for each drink purchased) used. 

We celebrate two anniversaries and welcome aboard two new couples, who we are sure are wondering what they have walked into. But we reel them into the fun and by breakfast they are sitting at our tables like new old friends. 

The next A.M. we sail for Albania...

.....yes Albania, the country that was in hibernation and isolation for forty-six years, under strict Communist rule and no contact with the outside world. We dock in Saranda, which is comsidered a tourist destination, but as we quickly realize, probably only for Albanians and maybe a few Greeks. It has a privileged location where the Ionian and Adriatic Seas meet and someone way back tried to make it a resort, but today all that is left beyond a few small hotels, are hundreds of finished and half finished buildings, empty and abandoned. 

Since visiting Saranda was not really an option, we decided to take the excursion to a small town up in the hills, now all ruins. The bus ride was beautiful and a bit harrowing as we swing around hairpin curves, the kind that make you wonder just how much of the bus is hanging off the cliff and how experienced the driver is. The ruins were interesting, the earliest from the 4th century B.C. As we entered the old amphitheater, which is sinking each year so much that the stage is now a little pond, 

we had a spontaneous performance-by our passengers! First Dave,from St. Louis, shocked us by standing and very eloquently and dramatically orating a long poem. Patricia, 

not to be outdone, performed a soliloquy from Cyrano de Bergerac in French, and last up, Dietmar, our cruise director, recited another epic poem. That's a lot of uninhibited talent among just a small boat.

Back on board for lunch and our last lovely anchorage for swimming out in the sea. We all raced to suit up and grab a noodle and jump in, floating on the sea and on cloud nine. Overall a bit too little, we could have splashed for hours.

Dinner last night was the start of trading emails and extending invites to visit, so although we still had one more stop and one more dinner, we are winding down. Post dinner found us reading out loud the limericks we all wrote for the evening's contest, with lots of witty ditties and a bit of teasing. 

We sail all night long and in the  morning our last port of call, Kotor, in Montenegro is close. We all gather on the top sun deck in the still cool morning to experience the sail into Kotor Bay, through the only fiords in Europe outside of Norway. While these fiords were created by an earthquake, and not glaciers, with sunken rivers, they are just as beautiful. 

We all sit on deck while we hear a lecture on the Bay, the islands and the history. As we come around the islands and into the final bay, we dock in Kotor and head into town. We passed on the excursion, so a walk in town is in order. We head in with Marc and Andrea, thinking coffee and shopping, maybe a church, but the climb up to the Fort is beckoning Marc and we can't be shown up by those outdoorsy Aussies, so up we go. And up, and up and up, for an hour and twenty minutes, up steep winding slippery steps with the sun beating down. 

We pass the church about 1/3 of the way up and are tempted to stop. We buy water and have a shade pitstop about halfway and are tempted to turn around. But Steve is game and I can do it easier than he can so we keep on, finally climbing the 1100 meters to touch the flag. 

Lunch on land with cold beers and a  walk around to find the shops are not really anything to see. But you realize that the week is less about the towns and more about the sea and sun and all those new friends you have made. It feels a bit like the perfect summer camp bunk where many years ago you made those special connections that may last a lifetime. Overall,  just the right size.