Whitecaps on the Aegean Sea

This morning the wind is blowing force six down the tidy teak decks of the Aegean Odyssey as we plough our way upwind toward the tiny islands of Delos and Mykonos. I was just up standing on the bow with a fellow passenger and we had to lean against the pilot house to keep from being swept aft. The only thing I could think of is that scene on the Titanic movie where Kate stood on the very bow with her arms outstretched. As you might guess, the surrounding seas are a mass of whitecaps and I couldn't help but visualize myself back on the MAR in 1973 as we fought our way out of Mykonos harbor late in the season amidst just such whitecaps. We had our mainsail up for both propullsion and stability and we hadn't gone very far when a tremendous gust of wind tore the top of the sail away from it's rope edging and we had to quickly lower it. The loss of stability with the sail down caused the boat to pitch and roll with even greater ferocity and we had to come about and return to Mykonos and the relative safety of it's harbor. Later, we would hire a Greek fisherman to come aboard with his mending needles and put our heavy sail back together again. He was as brown as the inside of a walnut, wore a faded black Greek fisherman's cap, and carried tools that looked like they could have mended sails for Odysseus on his voyage to Troy.

From Wikipedia we learn that: In the United States, winds of force 6 or 7 result in the issuance of a small craft advisory, with force 8 or 9 winds bringing about a gale warning, force 10 or 11 a storm warning ("a tropical storm warning" being issued instead of the latter two if the winds relate to a tropical cyclone), and force 12 a hurricane force wind warning (or hurricane warning if related to a tropical cyclone). A set of red warning flags (daylight) and red warning lights (night time) is displayed at shore establishments which coincide with the various levels of warning.

This morning Concetta and I did something we haven't done in, well, maybe we've never done it; we slept until nearly 9:00 a.m. I was so astounded that I had to check my watch against our cabin clock to see if the darn thing had stopped last night or something. But no, it was right on. We had to sprint to make breakfast which ended at 9:30 a.m. It's a good thing that we didn't have a tour today or we'd been left on the boat.

And now a word about what we're doing on this cruise. If you've ever contemplated cruising, but have been deterred (as we were) by the thought of spending any time at all living on something the size of a aircraft carrier, these smaller cruise ships are the way to go. Presently, there are 333 passengers and 118 crew members on board. So few beings allows you to really get to know some of each of those groups. We've made friends with a number of passengers and have had some truly lovely dinners and breakfasts with them. Conceivably, by the end of the voyage, I suspect that we'll be trading addresses and phone numbers with them.

Booking, as we did, a cruise that is in part put together by the Archealogical Institute of American, we are naturally thrown together with a fairly atypical bunch of people. Everywhere you look passengers are carrying, reading, or talking about books. Yesterday we had lunch with a man and wife who, before retirement, were both chemistry professors. The wife was even head of the chemistry department. At times hanging around all these academics can be a tad intimidating, but most of the time it's very, very rewarding. Our recent breakfast table guest, who was the lecturer on geologic plate techtonics and volcanology, turned out to be one of the most fascinating people I've met in years.

The crew are the most agreeable service folks we've every been around. If you think about the surly unhelpful clerks and wait staff you deal with in many U.S. businesses nowadays you'll probably not believe me when I tell you that these folks are exactly the opposite. We've been absolutely thrilled with their professionalism and eagerness to please. Granted, they are all hoping for good tips, but isn't that what tips weren't meant to be about? First comes the good service, then the reward for good service. The U.S. has somehow perverted that idea.

According to what I've been told while on board, this is about the smallest ship that is reasonably affordable. When the ships get down to what I would consider an even more attractive size -- like 100 passengers -- the cost supposedly rachets up significantly. Still, should we decide to try another cruise sometime, I intend to research the idea of a smaller ship.

For those of you who are anxious to hear about the food here on board, I would say that it's on a level with Nevada's casino food. Which is to say, that it's not bad, just not anything that you're going to find in the upcoming issue of Bon Apetite magazine. Concetta and I have always found someting on the menu that we like, though sometimes it looks better than it tastes. As for my own prefereneces, I have tried to stick with mostly light fare -- fish, vegetables, and salads -- not because I'm trying to show off my willpower, but because the desserts are so good I've been unable to pass them by. Every evening I look forward to their dessert selection, be it the excellent bread pudding, the cheese cakes, the flans, or a triple-scoop of ice cream. They do have fruit for dessert, but I haven't been tempted by it yet, to which I'm sure my waist line will readily attest when we get home.

Well, I guess I'll close for now. Concetta is reading up in the lounge and I better go see how she's doing. They just announced on the intercom that the force 6 winds have precluded our visit to Delos, so we will be heading straight to Mykonos. I'm sorry to be missing Delos as it's one of the few places in Greece you can go which is not tourist oriented. It's purely an archeaological site. Mykonos, on the other hand, is largely a young person's island. On Mykonos it's pretty much non-stop hedonism. They have lots and lots of gay bars, nude beaches, and twenty-four-hour-a-day fun. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but if you're not 20 years old, you're probably going to concentrate more on the shopping.

So, for now I'll say, hasta la vista (until I see you again -- in Spanish) since I don't know how to say that in Greek. Ciao, tutti.