(sorry if some of the pics don't line up with the captions... argh!)
a Smart car - Cathy wants one - I think they fit in your purse
home base in Bariour floating bedroom
Our trip began Tuesday evening. Figuring out what bus to take to get to the port was our first hurdle but one that was easily solved. We packed light, each of us just taking a tote bag that we knew we would have to carry for the duration. A change of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, cameras… its amazing how little you really need or want to schlep around with you.
We were able to board the boat at 9pm, so we unloaded our gear in the room and headed out on deck to say “see ya later” to Dubrovnik. Our room was nice, compact, bunk beds (Cathy offered to take the top, bless her heart) and our own toilet. There was a shower down the hall, which didn’t lock… made for a quick clean-up the next morning… lol.
Our boat was sailing at 11pm, way past our bedtime, so we decided to settle in for the night before the ship sailed and get a good night’s sleep. We docked in Bari, Italy, at 8am and had the whole day before us for sightseeing.
The morning started with the aforementioned shower and a continental breakfast, then arrival into the port of Bari. Getting off the boat, we expected a group of Italian people to greet us at the pier, welcome us with open arms, bring us a plate of orecchiette and sauce and offer to guide us through the city. At the very least we thought there would be a tourist information booth. Wrong on both counts. We wandered one way along the pier, wondering how the heck to get over the fence to the road. After awhile, we turned around, went back towards the port and cut through a parking lot, at least leading us towards what looked like the old, touristy part of the city.
Our wanderings took us essentially through a few neighborhoods; you could hear people’s conversations as you passed. Wooden shutters were open and there was usually just a lace curtain separating you from someone’s kitchen or living room. We had our first cappuccino along a main shopping district and we made our way along, asking a few people where we might find tourist information. While the people were nice and polite, no one seemed to know what we were asking or where we could find information. Finally, Cathy asked a policeman, using her very best Italian, and he directed us towards the bus terminal and a nearby kiosk.
We picked up maps and did our best to decipher them. Many of the streets start with one name then change at an intersection. We continued wandering, arriving at the gates of the Old City. At last success! We saw the familiar stone walls, the fortress that protected the city. We knew there had to be monuments, sculptures, treasures to behold. Confidently we walked across the short bridge towards the office area to pay our Euro for admission. “Oh sorry, the City is closed today, come back tomorrow,” they said in their best broken English. The great and powerful Oz, closed?! How can you close a city?
We continued to wander along some of the main streets, admiring the clothes and shoes! Yes, shoes, that was it! That would be our proof that we were in Italy. We would buy shoes (yes, I can hear some of the sexist comments about women and shoe shopping… but we were dejected, turned away at the Old City gate… we had no choice!! Besides, we saw lovely sandals and had to buy them so when we wore them when we got back home people could ask, admiringly, “Where did you get those?” “Oh, in Italy,” we would say nonchalantly, with a smile.) But before the shoes, we found another beacon in the sea of unfamiliarity, a golden shining light, beckoning us, welcoming us, comforting us. Yes, the yellow arches of McDonald’s, in the heart of Bari. This would become our home base, as we continued wandering the city… after lunch, across from the Governor’s Palace… after gelato at a nearby park (where two Italian mothers hummed, “Hi Ho” to their kids as they played at the playground… so unusual yet familiar to hear a Disney tune in Italy.)
And still we wandered, many times doubling back or finding ourselves in a place we had already seen before. Deciding the only thing we had left to do on our checklist for Italy was have a meal of pasta, we found a restaurant at 2pm that had a simple menu. The older woman beckoned us in, “mangia”. “Grazie,” we said; we’ll be back at 6pm or so we tried to tell her. We thought she understood. So we made one last trek down to the golden arches. What was odd to us was that many of the stores had closed after lunch; they seemed to reopen as the afternoon wore on; siesta time in Italy, no doubt.
As we made our last stop towards the port, with visions of our fabulous Italian pasta dinner looming before us, we were approached by a little person dressed in soccer apparel and a baseball cap. He held out a plastic cup for coins; “No” we said politely and shook our heads. Again, he pushed the cup towards Cathy and she repeated, “No”. He mumbled and cursed us in Italian; then to be sure we got the point, he uttered some English expletives with correction enunciation, pronunciation and inflection. Of all the American phrases he could learn, he chooses this one? Sheesh!
Tired, wanting to get back “home” (Dubrovnik) we made our way to the restaurant. We arrived a little before six and it was closed, so we sat across the street waiting, our mouths watering in anticipation of a culinary delight. Authentic homemade Italian pasta and sauce. That, our sandals, the cappuccino and gelato would make our trip complete. Six o’clock came and there was no sign of movement in the restaurant. Maybe we misunderstood. But have no fear; there was another establishment just down the street, Gusto. If that didn’t sound like an amazing Italian meal waiting to be devoured, what did?
We went in and asked if they were serving dinner. The owner gestured in another part of the restaurant and a young guy came out. He spoke some English and we were relieved, until he informed us that the restaurant would not open until 8pm. That must be the early dinner seating; it was also the time we were expected back on the ship to return to Dubrovnik. Dejected, visions of our dinner fading faster than angel hair pasta, we walked to a café nearby and ordered a meal. Cathy’s risotto was far from memorable; my fettuccine with sauce was a little better, but both were far from our expectations. Not to worry though, we still had our sandals and the well-wishes of a little person in a baseball cap.
We made our way to the ship and waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. We boarded the boat and made our way to check-in, receiving our room key. The attendant showed us to our room. Unlike the first time, when they unlocked the door for us and showed us our accommodations, this time she pointed to the stairs going from the third level to the first. “Your room is down there, second door on the left…” I swear, she shuddered. Cathy and I hesitated, but realized we had been lucky to get the last room on the return trip; it had two beds, it had running water. So we would have to shower in a room down the hall; what was so bad about that?
We made our way down the stairs… down… down… down… and through a much narrower hall than above. “My God, we’re sleeping with the crew,” I whispered to Cathy. We located our room and unlocked the door. Yes, there were two beds and a sink. And the beauty of all of it was that you could lay in the bed and reach the nightstand, sink AND door easily. It’s ok, we’re just sleeping here, we reassured each other. We got ready for bed and climbed in, noticing that everything had been downsized on the first level: beds, sheets, towels, pillows. Either that or we had grown much larger during our day-long walking tour of Bari.
We nestled in for the night only to be awakened by a shrill alarm outside our door. Then a hissing noise. Neither of us said anything but Cathy was convinced we would die of carbon monoxide poisoning. I, on the other hand, was positive the boat would be filling with water any moment. Would they remember to get us? Would someone pound on the door and help us to the light of day? The alarm stopped, and exhausted, we fell asleep, praying for a safe journey home.
As seems to be my pattern since I’ve been in Croatia, I wake before the alarm, no matter how early I set it. This time it was 5am; and I bounded out of bed, grabbed my gear and had a quick shower before heading up to deck. I was rewarded with a beautiful view of the sunrise and the knowledge that we would be arriving in Dubrovnik soon.
The ship docked safely and we were fortunate enough to immeditely grab the bus home (well, almost home, we had upper hell to ascend) so we could shower and get ready for our next adventure; a class field trip with a tour of some of the islands along the southern Dalmatian Coast. But that, dear friends, is a story for another day.
Until then… mir… annette
We were able to board the boat at 9pm, so we unloaded our gear in the room and headed out on deck to say “see ya later” to Dubrovnik. Our room was nice, compact, bunk beds (Cathy offered to take the top, bless her heart) and our own toilet. There was a shower down the hall, which didn’t lock… made for a quick clean-up the next morning… lol.
Our boat was sailing at 11pm, way past our bedtime, so we decided to settle in for the night before the ship sailed and get a good night’s sleep. We docked in Bari, Italy, at 8am and had the whole day before us for sightseeing.
The morning started with the aforementioned shower and a continental breakfast, then arrival into the port of Bari. Getting off the boat, we expected a group of Italian people to greet us at the pier, welcome us with open arms, bring us a plate of orecchiette and sauce and offer to guide us through the city. At the very least we thought there would be a tourist information booth. Wrong on both counts. We wandered one way along the pier, wondering how the heck to get over the fence to the road. After awhile, we turned around, went back towards the port and cut through a parking lot, at least leading us towards what looked like the old, touristy part of the city.
Our wanderings took us essentially through a few neighborhoods; you could hear people’s conversations as you passed. Wooden shutters were open and there was usually just a lace curtain separating you from someone’s kitchen or living room. We had our first cappuccino along a main shopping district and we made our way along, asking a few people where we might find tourist information. While the people were nice and polite, no one seemed to know what we were asking or where we could find information. Finally, Cathy asked a policeman, using her very best Italian, and he directed us towards the bus terminal and a nearby kiosk.
We picked up maps and did our best to decipher them. Many of the streets start with one name then change at an intersection. We continued wandering, arriving at the gates of the Old City. At last success! We saw the familiar stone walls, the fortress that protected the city. We knew there had to be monuments, sculptures, treasures to behold. Confidently we walked across the short bridge towards the office area to pay our Euro for admission. “Oh sorry, the City is closed today, come back tomorrow,” they said in their best broken English. The great and powerful Oz, closed?! How can you close a city?
We continued to wander along some of the main streets, admiring the clothes and shoes! Yes, shoes, that was it! That would be our proof that we were in Italy. We would buy shoes (yes, I can hear some of the sexist comments about women and shoe shopping… but we were dejected, turned away at the Old City gate… we had no choice!! Besides, we saw lovely sandals and had to buy them so when we wore them when we got back home people could ask, admiringly, “Where did you get those?” “Oh, in Italy,” we would say nonchalantly, with a smile.) But before the shoes, we found another beacon in the sea of unfamiliarity, a golden shining light, beckoning us, welcoming us, comforting us. Yes, the yellow arches of McDonald’s, in the heart of Bari. This would become our home base, as we continued wandering the city… after lunch, across from the Governor’s Palace… after gelato at a nearby park (where two Italian mothers hummed, “Hi Ho” to their kids as they played at the playground… so unusual yet familiar to hear a Disney tune in Italy.)
And still we wandered, many times doubling back or finding ourselves in a place we had already seen before. Deciding the only thing we had left to do on our checklist for Italy was have a meal of pasta, we found a restaurant at 2pm that had a simple menu. The older woman beckoned us in, “mangia”. “Grazie,” we said; we’ll be back at 6pm or so we tried to tell her. We thought she understood. So we made one last trek down to the golden arches. What was odd to us was that many of the stores had closed after lunch; they seemed to reopen as the afternoon wore on; siesta time in Italy, no doubt.
As we made our last stop towards the port, with visions of our fabulous Italian pasta dinner looming before us, we were approached by a little person dressed in soccer apparel and a baseball cap. He held out a plastic cup for coins; “No” we said politely and shook our heads. Again, he pushed the cup towards Cathy and she repeated, “No”. He mumbled and cursed us in Italian; then to be sure we got the point, he uttered some English expletives with correction enunciation, pronunciation and inflection. Of all the American phrases he could learn, he chooses this one? Sheesh!
Tired, wanting to get back “home” (Dubrovnik) we made our way to the restaurant. We arrived a little before six and it was closed, so we sat across the street waiting, our mouths watering in anticipation of a culinary delight. Authentic homemade Italian pasta and sauce. That, our sandals, the cappuccino and gelato would make our trip complete. Six o’clock came and there was no sign of movement in the restaurant. Maybe we misunderstood. But have no fear; there was another establishment just down the street, Gusto. If that didn’t sound like an amazing Italian meal waiting to be devoured, what did?
We went in and asked if they were serving dinner. The owner gestured in another part of the restaurant and a young guy came out. He spoke some English and we were relieved, until he informed us that the restaurant would not open until 8pm. That must be the early dinner seating; it was also the time we were expected back on the ship to return to Dubrovnik. Dejected, visions of our dinner fading faster than angel hair pasta, we walked to a café nearby and ordered a meal. Cathy’s risotto was far from memorable; my fettuccine with sauce was a little better, but both were far from our expectations. Not to worry though, we still had our sandals and the well-wishes of a little person in a baseball cap.
We made our way to the ship and waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. We boarded the boat and made our way to check-in, receiving our room key. The attendant showed us to our room. Unlike the first time, when they unlocked the door for us and showed us our accommodations, this time she pointed to the stairs going from the third level to the first. “Your room is down there, second door on the left…” I swear, she shuddered. Cathy and I hesitated, but realized we had been lucky to get the last room on the return trip; it had two beds, it had running water. So we would have to shower in a room down the hall; what was so bad about that?
We made our way down the stairs… down… down… down… and through a much narrower hall than above. “My God, we’re sleeping with the crew,” I whispered to Cathy. We located our room and unlocked the door. Yes, there were two beds and a sink. And the beauty of all of it was that you could lay in the bed and reach the nightstand, sink AND door easily. It’s ok, we’re just sleeping here, we reassured each other. We got ready for bed and climbed in, noticing that everything had been downsized on the first level: beds, sheets, towels, pillows. Either that or we had grown much larger during our day-long walking tour of Bari.
We nestled in for the night only to be awakened by a shrill alarm outside our door. Then a hissing noise. Neither of us said anything but Cathy was convinced we would die of carbon monoxide poisoning. I, on the other hand, was positive the boat would be filling with water any moment. Would they remember to get us? Would someone pound on the door and help us to the light of day? The alarm stopped, and exhausted, we fell asleep, praying for a safe journey home.
As seems to be my pattern since I’ve been in Croatia, I wake before the alarm, no matter how early I set it. This time it was 5am; and I bounded out of bed, grabbed my gear and had a quick shower before heading up to deck. I was rewarded with a beautiful view of the sunrise and the knowledge that we would be arriving in Dubrovnik soon.
The ship docked safely and we were fortunate enough to immeditely grab the bus home (well, almost home, we had upper hell to ascend) so we could shower and get ready for our next adventure; a class field trip with a tour of some of the islands along the southern Dalmatian Coast. But that, dear friends, is a story for another day.
Until then… mir… annette
2 comments:
Wow, you guys really know how to have an adventure! And live to tell about it! Sounds like you did OK on your foray to Italia - wish it could have been nicer for you! Maybe you'll have another chance to go there!?
Hope you had a wonderful weekend and did some more exploring.....we are all on the edge of our seats waiting to hear!
Love,
Nicki
What an adventure! Sounds like Mexico with the afternoon siesta and dinner not till 8 p.m.
Now might we be able to see a pix of Netts? To at least prove that she's really there?
Hugs,
Brenda
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