Category: Uncategorized

I was raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, often referred to as The Mormon Church. When young people start high school, we also start a religious class called Seminary. The 50 minute class is held daily in conjunction with school… very early in the morning.

I grew up in Glendora, Ca., a small community about 30 miles east of downtown Los Angeles. Glendora has a foothill range that runs east/west and divides the town. The north side of the hill attends Glendora High School and the south side attends Charter Oak High School, in Covina. I lived on the south side and went to Charter Oak. We attended church on the north side of town. I had two sets of friends, which was cool for a teenager.

My freshman year of high school, my seminary class was on the north side at the “old” Elwood building… at 5:30am. After that class, we hustled the 15 min drive to Charter Oak for Zero Period band at 7am. Our teacher was Margo Smith, a sweet, 30 something single woman, that was the embodiment of a church lady.

My father taught the upperclass, so I was always early. One morning, Richard Butler, a wild, rough kid that had befriended me, came in early. He went into the library and grabbed a record player. These were a self contained box, with a speaker on the side. He brought it back to the classroom and plugged it in.

He pulled a vinyl record from the sleeve, put side one on the record player and turned up the volume. I heard this descending siren like sound followed by a thumping bass guitar playing quarter notes and then this quick trill of guitar followed by what I immediately thought was the greatest piece of music I had ever heard in my short 14 years.

Sister Smith was busily preparing her lesson as this all transpired and she seemed to ignore what we were doing… until the song hit the chorus.

Ooh, yeah
(Ahh)
Runnin’ with the devil
(Ahh-hah, yeah)
(Woo-hoo-oo)
Runnin’ with the devil
Yes I’m, yeah, hoo

I think she lost 10 years from her life in that moment. Her head snapped up with a look of sheer disbelief and I don’t think the song was halfway through the second verse before she was across the room and had the needle off the spinning vinyl! Needless to say, I didn’t get to hear the rest of the song that day.

How ironic that my love affair with Van Halen began that early morning in a church! I quickly bought the album and played it over and over. It was amazing to hear the things that Eddie did with a guitar. Eruption became every guitar players goal. In those days there was no YouTube to watch your favorite artist play your favorite song. Learning a riff was an exercise of either lifting the needle over and over or hitting rewind on the cassette player.

A couple of years previous, I had taken guitar lessons for maybe a year. It didn’t take long to realize that I didn’t have the dexterity in my fingers to play effectively, so I gave up. I had been in the band since the 5th grade and was in the percussion section. At this point as a freshman in high school, I was just starting to play the drum set, so Alex Van Halen was really my first influence. A year or so later, I discovered Rush and Neil, so my musical focus turned to them. I still bought every Van Halen album as soon as they came out.

Today, Oct 6th, 2020, the world lost a giant in Edward Van Halen. Without a doubt he is the most influential guitarist of the last 40 years. A pioneer that changed the path of Rock n Roll in 1978 and forward.

RIP Eddie. 1/26/1955 – 10/6/2020

Sunday, March 15

My father turned 80 years old on March 25, 2020. For the past year, the family has been talking about having a big bash for him. We kicked around the idea of having a surprise party for him and then sometime in January, he made it known of his plans for his own surprise party. How does one have a surprise party for themselves? His answer was “It will be a surprise if I live that long!” He lives in Victorville, CA, the high desert area north of San Bernardino, which is an hour east of Los Angeles. He scheduled to use his local church building for March 27, in the evening.

When I looked at what my schedule would be after coming home from our trip, it was going to be very difficult to get back to CA two weeks later. My sister RoAnn and my mother had driven down from Utah for the trip and there was no way that they would be able to come back. Just to clarify… my parents have been split and remarried for over 30 years, but have a healthy relationship. Long past are any hard feelings or animosity toward each other. This has proven to be a blessing for the whole family and there is never an instance of “chose one over the other”. RoAnn and mom wanted to be at the birthday party. Since we were going to be coming through Los Angeles on the weekend of the 14th, we decided to have a family get together on Sunday afternoon.

Back when I booked our flights to and from Phoenix, I had booked an early Sunday flight to return home. Joe and Amy booked with us, so we could travel together. We were staying at the airport so there was no reason to linger. Once the birthday plans were set, I changed our flight home to late Sunday. We would rent a car in the morning, drive out to my sisters in Rancho Cucamonga for the party, and then return to LAX to fly home. The Haggards would leave in the morning.

As our trip progressed, the plan for the party started to fall apart. Sometime during the last week, it was flat out cancelled. Dad said he would have an 80.5 party late summer, and it would still be a surprise. Now I needed to change our flight back to the morning. On Friday, I checked with Southwest Airlines, and it was going to cost me $166 to change our flights back to the ORIGINAL time. I tried again before we left Paris, with the same result. I decided to leave it and see what I could do at the airport in Los Angeles. Once we got to the hotel on Saturday night, I tried one more time and the price had dropped to what we paid originally. I immediately made the change.

Our flight was at 7:50am, so we decided to catch the 6am shuttle from the hotel. Check-in was seamless and we were at the gate in no time. The flight was less than half full and Rhonda and I sat in the exit row. That doesn’t happen very often. A quick hour and a half flight and we were on the tarmac in Phoenix. Home and my own bed was a 35 minute drive away!

I had ordered a private shuttle company and the email confirmation said we would be picked up by a van. After gathering our luggage, we headed out to the pick up point. With the uncrowded flight, we were off and out quicker than anticipated, so we had to wait a few minutes. An older black Lincoln Navigator pulled up and I watched the driver pick up his phone and dial it. I grabbed mine out of my pocket, just as it started to ring. No reason to answer it.

As we pulled out of the airport, the driver lamented that the west bound Interstate 10 was closed for the weekend. Over the past two years it had happened seemingly every other weekend. He would drive out a major street past the construction and back onto the freeway. Ten minutes into the drive, the vehicle started to jerk and slow down. The driver shifted into neutral and hit the gas and the engine revved. He shoved back into drive and the result was nothing, as we continued to slow. The upcoming light was green and the Lincoln coasted through the intersection and into an empty parking lot.

Two weeks of staying a step of ahead at every corner, cheating disaster with every decision and here we were sitting in a trash strewn parking lot, 25 minutes from home. I’ve had transmission problems before so I recognized the symptoms. I couldn’t believe that our luck couldn’t hold out for another 30 minutes. So close…

I thought of all the things that had happened on this trip, how we had done and seen amazing things, to find out that they were closed right after. All of the sites in Rome that we visited on the first Tuesday, closed two days later. Piza was closed right after we left. In Paris, we visited the temple which was closed the next day. We went to the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre which shut down right after. We had decided to stay in Paris until Saturday and our flight was half full instead of overbooked. Rhonda and I had skated through Customs, while others spent more time getting through. There was no doubt that we had been watched over for this entire trip. It could have easily been a disaster. No doubt this would be a memory that would live in each of us for the rest of our lives. A memory that deserved to be put into words.

The driver turned off the vehicle, then started it back up and put it into gear. We moved forward and he merged into traffic. I cringed a bit as he pulled onto the freeway a few moments later, but I didn’t hear or feel any slipping of the gears. The four of us kept our fingers crossed as the car left the freeway at our exit. Every stop sign was tense, but in a few minutes we were in front of our house. Luggage was unloaded and the driver left. The four us stood in the driveway and laughed at how we had done it again…

I have learned quite a bit in the writing of this ten part mini-series. This journey has given me a small glimpse into the process of writing and more importantly, publishing. As I wrote, I found myself going back to add or change things that were three of four paragraphs up. Rhonda has been a second pair of eyes in proof reading and finding typos or misplaced words. I can see why writing a book could be an arduous task. Juggling the desire to publish what is written quickly, versus the need to read, reread, add and change to make the story flow and keep a reader interested. On occasion I remembered things that clearly should have been a part of the story. Sometimes it was too late because those events were 3 chapters back.

One such event took place while we were on a bus traveling between Piza and Florence. We were in the city and traffic was very heavy. The tour guide was at the front of the bus explaining all the history of the places we passed. We had turned a tight corner and the guide commented how great the driver was. He was one of the best. Not 30 seconds later, the bus shuttered as he hit the brakes hard. We moved forward a few feet and he slammed on the brakes again. Everyone lurched forward, including the guide standing in the front of the bus who was knocked from her feet. From the back, we couldn’t see, what happened, but the bus had hit a motorcyclist. In the busy traffic, a guy on a scooter had buzzed between the bus and a line of cars on the right. He was obviously wreckless, as just before he got hit, he side swiped a car and removed the mirror. The driver got off the bus and the motorcyclist was walking around in front, so he wasn’t injured bad, if at all. I imagined that the rest of our day would be spent sitting here during an investigation. Within ten minutes, we were on our way. It was a reminder of how crazy the driving is over there.

I am grateful to those of you that have stayed with me from the beginning. Your support and positive comments have fueled the desire to stay on top of this and finish it in a timely manner. The current situation in world has proven to be an accomplice also. I have never sat at home, in my pajamas for two straight weeks. I have had time to sit and write, take a break, and then write some more. If you feel inclined, please feel free to share this story with anyone that you think would enjoy it.

I need another vacation… and something more to write about.

Saturday, March 14

Delta flight #DL119 was to depart CDG, Paris at 3:15pm and arrive at LAX at 7:13pm. Twelve hours of flight time. This will be the longest flight I have ever been on. Months back when I had gone on the Delta website to pick our seats, this flight had been the most frustrating. On all the other flights of the trip, I had been able to pick aisle seats and keep the whole group close together. For this flight, there were only four sets of seats together, spread throughout the cabin, all with a window and middle seat. I looked numerous times over the months to see if any had changed, to no avail.

I had scheduled the shuttle to pick us up at 11:00 for the fourty five minute drive. Once again, Rhonda and I had to pack in shifts as the only place to set an open suitcase was the small double bed. At this point in the journey, the dirty clothes far exceeded the clean ones, which always makes it easier, at least for me. The tough part was that we had acquired lots of stuff and getting it all in the suitcases and backpacks was proving to be fun, with a weight limit of 50lbs per bag. The Cottens had a small, handheld scale to weigh your bags with, but I didn’t want to go looking for it. Once we felt reasonably confident that we had the weights close, we made our way downstairs, leaving the luggage in the room.

I was determined to have one more sit down at Merci Jérôme. I was really going to miss this place, although my pants probably weren’t. We were becoming regulars to the women working inside. A ham & cheese sandwich and a chocolate croissant were the choice today. Chocolate is usually a choice and this place had quite a few variations. I secretly contemplated how I could get a box full home in one piece and relinquished to the fact that I probably couldn’t. Right before we walked out for the last time, a fact that we made sorrowfully known to the girls behind the counter, Julia decided that she was going to take a crack at the whole box idea. I admired her resolve, but didn’t want to be crushed if my box of perfection was.

Returning to the hotel, we went up the small elevator, an act that Rhonda still questioned every time we got in, to the fifth floor. We had been issued a standard metal key when we checked in because the card key wasn’t working. Sometimes technology takes a back seat to centuries old trusted ways. We grabbed our stuff and headed back down to the lobby. Even though we were having a hard time getting everything in the two suitcases, I was glad we opted to go that route instead of having a second one, or a herd of them like Amy and Joe.

A few minutes before 11 a black Mercedes van pulled up outside and the driver came in. I looked at the van and knew there was no way all of us and our luggage would fit inside. This wasn’t like the large 12 passenger vans we see in the US. I asked the driver if there was another vehicle coming and he said no. I pointed to the group and the mountain of luggage and he shrugged his shoulders. I had given the hotel clerk 72 Euros the night before as a down payment and he assured me that everything was set and the clerk on duty now seemed uninterested. I told everyone to being all the bags out and the driver began loading them. Evidently this guy was a master Tetris player, because he got every one of them in the back. There was even room for my backpack. I was thoroughly impressed. There were 8 seats, including a bench seat up front, so Melinda, the smallest of us, and Clint, the largest, sat up front.

The ride to the airport was uneventful and we gathered all our bags on the curb and headed inside. The Delta counters weren’t open yet, but there was a long line already that had already formed. I wanted to try one last time to see if we could upgrade our seats. I had seen a Delta Customer Service desk so I went over while Rhonda stayed in line with our bags. I received the same answer I had heard before. Because the tickets were purchased in bulk through an agency, there was no way to upgrade. I made another mental note to never book a trip like that again. I think at this point, there were at least ten of those notes filed away in my noggin.

When we got to ticket counter, we placed Rhondas suitcase on the scale and it came up three pounds heavy. Mine weighed in at 48 1/2. I tried to sweet talk the agent, but she said to try to get them even. We opened them both and grabbed a few things to put into mine. This time mine was 53. Rhonda scoffed at me and told me that I should have listened. Her boots would have been sufficient. Another shuffle and the agent nodded that would be fine. I vowed to buy a little hand scale like the Cottens had, so that we could avoid this seemingly frequent occurrence at ticket counters. After we left the ticket counter, we ran into Brent and Janet Larsen. We hadn’t seen them since the previous Tues night when we defected from the cruise ship.

Passing through Customs was quick and painless and our passports were stamped once again signaling our departure from Europe. Once we stowed everything at the gate, everyone took turns browsing the shops and using the toilettes. I still had some hard currency Euros and didn’t have a desire to take them home, so we found a shop to buy some things for grandkids. Of course the Euros weren’t enough, so out came the Darth Vader Visa card. Before we left, we had decided to open a new account. We would only take the card from that account, so as to minimize damage if it was compromised. I would transfer funds from our main account as needed. We also purchased Euros through our bank, long before we left. We never had the need to get more cash at less than ideal exchange rates. Those two choices had proven to be sound ones.

As the time approached to board the Boeing 777, the gate didn’t seem to be overcrowded. That seemed logical as the US travel ban was now in effect. The only people allowed to enter would be citizens or legal residents. Vacationing Europeans would be staying home for time being, presumably leaving open seats. I asked the gate agent one last time about upgrading, as there were surely available seats. I was told that even though there were seats available, our tickets didn’t have a breakdown of cost, so there was no way to know what the up charge would be. He also said that our economy cabin was only half full. Once again I was glad that we hadn’t tried to leave the day before. We got see the Louvre, have a nice dinner and now would have some room to stretch out on the plane for the flight home.

My Bose noise cancelling headphones are by far the most important thing I carry when I travel. I put them on when I sit down and usually don’t take them off until I am back in the terminal. A year ago, my 12 year old pair of wired ones finally bit the dust. We were in South Carolina and there was no way I was flying home without new ones. A trip to Best Buy had yielded me the new Bluetooth version. Not being tethered had its advantages. Often I could walk to the bathroom without taking my phone. All too often they had provided me protection from unruly kids or loud talking passengers.

I watched 3 or 4 movies. Ford vs Ferrari was my favorite. I listened to my favorite music over and over. There are artists that I never tire of, even after 40 years. I played Mahjong Solitaire on my phone. I played games on the seat back screen. Rhonda slept for much of the time, although not soundly. She would lay her head on my lap for a while, then her feet. She tossed and turned. I just couldn’t get myself to sleep for any length of time. Leaving Paris at 3:30pm and arriving in Los Angeles at 7:30pm meant that we would have close to twelve hours of hard core sunlight for the whole trip. If we were to get any sleep, the windows would stay closed. At some point long into the flight, Brent came over and told us to open the window shade. We were flying over ice. A check on the seat monitor showed that we were flying over the northern edge of the Hudson Bay, in the Provence of Nunavut. That is the furthest north I had ever been. Another first for this flight.

The light creeping through the crack at the window was beginning to dissipate, which signaled that we were getting close to Los Angeles. I was definitely ready to get off this flying tin can. Exiting was quick with the flight so empty, and we were walking towards customs. We entered a large room and were directed to a separate line because we had come in from France. We waited and waited and it seemed that the line wasn’t moving. It finally started to move as the agents started rerouting the lines. I honestly have no idea if we were finally mixed in with other passengers or not. The lines passed each other numerous times.

After over an hour and a half, we arrived at the passport machine to have it scanned and then an automated photo was taken. The machine spit out a small document with the photo on it. We were directed back into another line. Finally, we were at the spot where the document and passport would be physically checked. Just before we walked up, we saw that Brett and Julia were being led somewhere else from their booth.We stepped to the next available booth and handed the agent out documents. He looked at the passports and visa stamps, then asked where we had been and how long we had been out of the country. We told him and he handed back the passports and said welcome home. Clint and Melinda went through the same booth that the Cottens had, and suffered the same fate. Amy and Joe followed us and were cut loose just as we were.

When we got to the baggage claim, our bags were all sitting there, so we grabbed them and headed outside to find transportation. As it turned out, the Haggards and us had booked a hotel, with flights to Phoenix the next day. The other four were supposed to fly out that night, but missed their flights. Because they were taken to another area, their entry took another hour and a half. There was too much disparity at Customs. It was obvious that there was no real plan and each agent was treating the situation different. It was a clear-cut case of organized chaos.

Outside the four of us were tired and grumpy. Tempers flared as we tried to figure out how to get to the hotel. We finally decided to take a shuttle to a shared ride lot and loaded everything into the first taxi we could. The hotel was only a few minute drive and we were in the lobby quickly. One receptionist was working the desk and a lined formed quickly, but luckily we were in first. After we both got into our rooms, it was time to find food. It had been an incredibly long day. It was 9:45, which was almost 6am Paris time. I had been awake for about 22 hours. The closest food was a Chick-fil-A, which was a 7 min walk and they closed at 10. We hustled down the street and walked in at 9:56. I enjoyed my first Dr. Pepper in 2 weeks!

A short walk back to the hotel and I was ready for sleep. There wouldn’t be much as our Southwest flight flight to Phoenix was scheduled for 7:50 in the morning. The last thing I did was schedule a shuttle ride from the airport home. We really didn’t have anyone to pick us up and with the whole virus thing getting more and more serious, we figured it would be best to sit in the back of a van…

When we had made the plans to come to Paris, we agreed that we wanted to visit the Louvre. We had decided that Friday would be the day and had purchased online tickets. Joe and Amy really wanted to see the Chartres Cathedral so they were up and out early. Our tickets for the Louvre were for 1pm so the six of us would leisurely make our way there. Since I didn’t get much sleep Wednesday night because of a certain Amy knocking on our door at 4:30am, I welcomed sleeping in. We had walked well over 15,000 steps the day before too.

This would be our last full day in Paris, Europe and on this trip. My mother and sister were flying out of Rome today and would be back in the states before any travel restrictions were in place. We had experienced some stress the day before regarding them. We got a message saying that their flight had been cancelled. They were to fly to Montreal and then LAX. Canada had suspended all flights from Italy and they had received no assistance from Cruisebuilders in making sure a new flight was booked. The time difference between Europe and Utah didn’t help, but the tour company should have been working overtime making sure everyone had flights home.

Late in the day on Thursday, they still hadn’t received new flight plans. Rhonda decided to take action and wrote a scathing email, using all CAPS. She was virtually screaming at them, and called them some very colorful words. Based on our previous experiences with the company over the months leading up to the trip, I didn’t expect much. I figured that if nothing had happened by Friday morning, I would start calling airlines. I already had a room in Rome for a Friday night, so if we couldn’t get them out until Sat, at least there was a room. Surprisingly, Rhonda got an email AND a phone call Thursday evening from Cruisebuilders. Apparently, talking like a Long Shoreman and threatening their children in an email helps. The idiot on the phone assured Rhonda that my mom and RoAnn had a flight and then proceeded to give the information for the cancelled flight. Rhonda lost it and the poor soul suffered more abuse. A few hours later we had confirmation that a new flight had been secured. They would fly through a Frankfurt to San Francisco to LAX. We weren’t going to be picky. Crisis averted thanks to my lovely wifey and her way with words.

It did feel good to be able to get seven hours of sleep. At home I am normally lucky to get five, though I typically don’t walk 8 miles a day. My body needed to rejuvenate. I was excited to walk across the street to my favorite bakery. They had wonderful croissants and quiches. After breakfast, the six of us made our way slowly back toward the Eiffel Tower. About halfway there, Rhonda decided that she needed to find a restroom. The next thirty minutes played out like a Keystone Cops silent movie.

Scattered throughout Paris are small public restrooms. The tiny buildings were about 6’ wide by 10’ long. In one of the rounded ends there was a door that slid open. A small panel sat next to the door with buttons and lights. The door was closed and a yellow “occupied” light was lit. After a few moments the door opened and man stepped out. He smiled and walked toward his car. Rhonda was squeezing her knees together at this point so she headed inside. I decided to follow her so we could kill two birds with one trip. We stepped inside and I hit the button to shut the door. Nothing. I stepped outside and the occupied light was still on, though clearly the room had been vacated. It must not be working. Stepping back in, I grabbed the pocket door and slid it closed as Rhonda was already in process of dropping her pants.

The moment she moved toward the throne with her pants at her calves, the door slid wide open. She screamed and ducked behind me for coverage, as I tried to broaden myself to provide a wider screen while she wrestled with her jeans. Laughter erupted from outside and once she had her pants back in place we stepped out. The man that had exited a few minutes earlier was sitting in his car watching this whole episode. He laughed as he walked back toward us to explain how to use this room of doom.

A few moments after a person exits the room, the door closes automatically and a cleaning cycle takes place. Once the room is clean, the door opens and a green light indicates it is ready. We had entered too hastily and interrupted the process. With our newfound knowledge, we waited for the green light to come on and began the ritual again without a hitch. Everyone followed the same process and when we were all emptied, we continued on our way.

I looked at the easiest way to get to the Louvre. It was a forty-five minute walk or a twenty minute bus ride. Bus ride it is. We find the bus stop and wait. We boarded and went to the back. Some things never change. It was to be 12 stops to our destination. We enjoyed the sights and bantered back and forth. We talked about everything that had happened to this point and how I had been pivotal in getting us here. I was feeling prideful and mentioned that I would never lead this group astray. We immediately realized that I had failed to get us off the bus. We had passed our stop by half a mile. What a leader..

They trusted me enough to lead the way back to the Louvre. Souvenir shops lined the boulevard on one side and the River Seine the other. We crossed the street to walk along the river. There was a five foot wall that protected a fifteen foot drop to another path along the river edge, which was closed. Along the wall, there were shallow metal boxes mounted with clam shell type doors that would swing up and open. Vendors sold paintings, photographs, clothing, and all manner of souvenirs. Apparently they open around noon, as many were closed and we saw numerous of them opening up as we walked down the street.

We entered the grounds through a passageway into a large courtyard, where there was construction fencing around a large platform that filled most of the area. Walking around to the right there a matching passageway into another open area. We didn’t know the difference, but the lack of people was astonishing. Walking through, we saw the familiar glass pyramid in the center of the plaza. The pyramid housed the entrance that dropped down a level. Inside was a huge open area with 4 separate entrances into different parts of the museum. Once inside we met up with Amy and Joe for a short time before, through a series of unfortunate events, we lost them again.

It is said that if you were to spend sixty seconds reading the description at each item in this place, it would take 72 eight hour days to see it all. The enormity is astonishing. There were a couple of must see items, so we mapped out a route to see those things. In the few hours we spent here, we literally scratched the surface. It was overload. Of course we had to see the Mona Lisa. The relatively small piece was mounted on a large dark blue wall, with ropes and attendants to keep people at bay. There was a switchback line full of people to stand front and center for pictures. I opted to stand to the side. It took about 7 years for Leonardo da Vinci to complete the painting and in reality it is believed that he never finished it. It was stolen once in 1911 and remained at large for two years until it was found and returned to the Louvre.

Another must see item was the Venus de Milo. Arguably, one of the most famous Greek sculptures, it dates to 100 BC. It boggles my mind that this was sculpted by hand out of a block of marble, over 2000 years ago. It was discovered in 1820 within ruins of the city of Milos. The missing right arm was originally a separate piece added and supported by a rod extending from the chest. Another interesting fact is that in 1939, in preparation for a a German invasion, the statue along with about 4000 other items were crated and moved secretly to Château de Chambers. Some items were moved more than once during the German occupation to protect them

By late afternoon, we were ready to hit the street and head back toward the Eiffel Tower. We missed the hourly light show the previous night, so tonight we would watch it from the Jardins du Trocadéro, which was directly across the river. After hitting a few souvenir shops once more time, we boarded a bus for the short ride. I made sure to pay attention this time, since my title of Ringleader was in peril from the earlier bus debacle. We watched the day turn into night from the vantage point across the street. Joe and Amy were on the way to meet us.

When we met the Haggards inside the Louvre, Joes phone was low in battery, so he plugged into my charger and left the phone in my backpack. At some point we became separated again and they thought that we might have gone outside. They went out, but when they tried to come back in, Joe realized the tickets were on his phone. Without the tickets, they weren’t allowed to come back inside. Joe pleaded and begged and finally got them to let him in. That he found us is a miracle, and I happened to be on the phone when he reached in an grabbed his phone and was generally unaware that he was there. He hurried back to Amy outside and we didn’t see them again until dusk at the tower. Amy was visibly upset when we met, thinking that we had just ditched them. After lots of apologies and hugs, all was forgiven. We spent the next 30 minutes taking short videos of us jumping into the air, in order to glean some cool looking still shots. Mine looked like an old fat man failing miserably to look like a young skinny man

After seeing the sparkle light show on the tower, it was time to find our last dinner in Europe. We made our way toward a Metro station, while I looked for a suitable place to eat. We settled on Le Petite Tour, a small upscale place a few blocks from the metro station. The restaurant was uncrowded, and they moved tables together for the eight of us. The menu was only in French, which we hadn’t experienced yet. Most places at least have descriptions in English. The waitress spoke very broken English which made the night both interesting and fun. In all, it was a very enjoyable meal to cap a whirlwind trip.

We made our way to the Metro station and proceeded to hold up a line of very patient young people as we fumbled our way through the automated ticket counter. It wasn’t pretty. We boarded a train and right before the doors closed, a man stepped inside with a violin in his hand, pulling a small cart with an amplifier mounted to it. Music began to fill the inside of the carriage. Amy grabbed Joe and they danced, twirling in front of all us. It was a shame that we were only on board for 2 stops, and tips were dropped in his container as we exited the train.

The station was literally in front of our hotel and we stepped into the small lobby. I talked with the attendant to confirm that we would need a shuttle to the airport in the morning. The small hotel didn’t have a vehicle, but used a company. I stressed that we were not just eight passengers, but that each person had a large suitcase and most had a small carry on. Then there was Joe and Amy. He assured me that we would have a vehicle that would fit everyone and everything.

Another long day with lots of walking was complete and tomorrow would be longer. It was time to get some rest.

Thursday, March 12

At about 4:30am there was a knock on our door. I sleep heavy and barely recognized what was happening as Rhonda got out of bed on the second knock. Amy was there stating that the President had just shut down the country. We needed to get home before Friday night at midnight, or we would be stuck for 30 days. She said that everyone was meeting in the lobby to talk about it. Rhonda climbed back in bed and said “let me know what happens”

As I was dressing, I was searching my phone for information. Of course there were headlines about President Trumps broadcast. I continued to search for info as I rode the elevator to the small lobby. All six of the others were there and with obvious concern over this news. Joes mother had called him right after the presidents speech, begging with him to get a flight right away to beat the deadline. I let everyone state their concerns, then I read aloud the notice from The Department of Homeland Security website. The travel ban would not apply to US Citizens or legal residents. At first, the general consensus was to leave as soon as possible. My thought was, that as citizens, we were exempt. I felt no reason to change our plans. To help ease everyone’s minds, I agreed to call Delta Airlines to look at the option of going earlier. Based on the wait time a few days previous, I knew it would be a long wait. I didn’t have Brads resource for getting through quickly. I called the 800 number and entered my info for a callback. Six hours was the estimate. I knew better.

We had planned to visit the Paris Temple today, so we all went back to bed for a couple of hours of sleep. I’m sure some didn’t sleep. I did.

As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, temples are important edifices. They are different than our regular buildings that you may see on a corner in your neighborhood. In a nutshell, temples represent the Kingdom of God here on earth. When we are inside a temple, we feel closer to His presence than anywhere else on earth. Where there are thousands of meeting houses throughout the world, there are only 161 currently operating temples worldwide. There are 40 or so more that are either under construction, being renovated or in planning stages.

Our original travel plans were to go to the newly opened Rome Temple after getting off the ship on Thursday. The Rome Temple was now closed indefinitely, so the rest of the tour group would not even see it. Our plan to defect from the cruise included going to the Paris Temple. As it turned out, Joe had an aunt and uncle that had come to Paris the previous year, to work at the temple. He contacted them the day before and told them he had a group coming.

The morning was dreary and it was raining. After we had run across the intersection to grab a bite from a real restaurant instead of the Golden Arches, we hailed two taxis. It was about a 30 min drive in the busy, weekday morning traffic. Most of the temples in the world are immediately noticeable. On ninety percent of them there is a golden statue of a man holding a trumpet. Because of building codes, the Paris Temple is one of the ten percent that don’t. The cabs let us out in front and we made our way to the entrance. The peace that is felt while inside is palpable, and the worries of earlier that morning were completely forgotten. Of course the language used is French, so we were all issued headsets to be able to have translation to English.

Only church members in good standing can enter a temple, but at many of the temple sites, there are visitor centers. They are separate buildings with lots of information about the church and temples. Joes relatives were working in the Visitor Center, so after our session inside we walked over to meet them. The first thing they told us was that they had just received notice that they were being sent back to the states. Effective the next day, the temple would be closed. We had barely made it. They shared some interesting facts about the similarities between today’s temples, the tabernacle that Moses had erected and the later temple in Jerusalem during the time of Christ.

After a nice visit, it was time to head back to Paris and visit the Eiffel Tower. We decided to try Uber, which turned out to be cheaper and far more enjoyable than the taxi cabs. I still hadn’t received a callback from Delta and it was now 7 hours since I had called.

The Eiffel Tower was about a 15 minute walk from the hotel. We stopped at what would be the bakery of choice for the next two days, Merci Jérôme. They had all manner of pastries, bread, desserts and sandwiches. I could get in serious trouble with that store in my neighborhood. Luckily, it was Thursday and we were leaving Sat.

Upon first sight, the tower is beautiful. The color and architecture reminds me of “steampunk”. It has an antique bronze hue to it. For some reason, at first it didn’t look that big to me. It wasn’t until we were standing underneath and then standing at the top, did the size really manifest itself. Once again there were scores of dark skinned men selling trinkets. This time there were replicas of all sizes and colors of the tower. Some were walking around, and some had blankets set on the ground, covered in the exact same hardware as the scores of others within talking distance. Some would ask then move on, and some were irritatingly persistent. There were also lots of selfie sticks.

In the past, you could freely walk around under the tower. In today’s world of global terrorism, there is a barrier all the way around. In order to get inside, you must pass through security. Backpacks went through x-ray machines and people through metal detectors. It was a reminder of how much the world has changed in the last 20 years. The 8 of us debated spending close to $30 each to go to the top. Clint vocalized it best when he said, “I’m here in Paris now and I don’t know when or if I will ever be back. I’m going up”. Everyone agreed with his sentiment so we got in line for tickets. The lines were short, which was a direct result of the ever increasing worldwide turmoil.

Amy has a small issue with heights. A few days previous when we walked around the top of the Piza Tower, it was obvious that she wasn’t completely comfortable. As we now stood in line for the first elevator, she was visibly nervous. This elevator doesn’t go straight up, but rather follows the arch of the legs to the lower deck. She was an absolute trooper after receiving encouragement from everyone. At the first deck, we made our way to the elevator bank in the middle of the tower that would take us to the top. These cars were much smaller than the first. There were lots of jokes about the last small elevator ride that most of us had experienced. Some didn’t think the jokes were funny.

The deck where the elevators stop is surprisingly large. There are shops and restrooms and the entire floor is encased in windows. A small stairway leads to the upper deck that is open to the air. The wind was blowing hard at the top. Standing on one side, the air was still and crisp. The rainy morning had given way to blue skies interlaced with high, stratocumulus clouds. Moving around the other side unleashed the cold blast of an unrelenting gale. The views are incredible. The layout of the city, unconventional to what we are used to, is prominent with this birds eye view.

Right as we decided to descend back down, my phone rang from an 800 number. 11 hours after I called, Delta was calling back. I felt sorry for the customer service reps that were having to deal with this circus. I sat down and took the call. I expressed the desire to possibly leave on Friday if it were possible. The answer was that while Delta was waiving change fees during this time, there weren’t any open seats on Friday. I was fine with that answer. After the Presidents speech, people were in mass hysteria trying to get back to the US before the deadline. The airports would be a nightmare. We were already seeing toilet paper hoarding on the news in the US. We would stay on our original itinerary.

Everyone had gone to the bottom while I was on the phone with Delta, so Rhonda and I got in line for elevator. When we got to the lower level, an elevator had just left to the bottom, so we decided to take the stairs from there. The view was deceiving and it took longer than I thought it would to step onto the ground. We all gathered at the bottom and made our way back to the hotel to rest up before heading out for dinner.

We had plans to go eat and then take a Metro ride back to the tower to see it at night. After plopping down at the hotel and feeling the wear on our legs and feet, the desire to make a long journey diminished. Brett and Julia had managed to stop their laundry from going out the last day on the ship, and that had left them with over 10 days of dirty clothes. There was a laundromat just down the street, so they decided to take care of that before we went to dinner. Joe and Amy followed with the same plan. For me, it was nice to sit and do nothing for short time.

A couple of hours later, we were on the hunt for dinner. Walking down the street, we settled on a corner cafe that could put tables together for the 8 of us. French Onion soup seemed to be an apropos choice. There was a dish with Andouillette that for some reason sounded good to me. As it turned out, it was a good thing I had ordered a bowl of onion soup. I ate half of the course sausage, but just couldn’t muscle more down. It was far too rich and… nasty. The waiter laughed when he came to take the plate away. He knew. At least I had tried an authentic French dish, one that I would never try again.

We hadn’t had gelato for a few days now, but in France we found that the frequent gelato shops of Italy didn’t exist. We managed to find a Häagen-Dazs store so we settled for that. It was a let down compared the soft, creaminess that is gelato. On the upside, we did have Merci Jêrome to look forward to in the morning.

The Defectors

Wednesday, March 11

It was different sleeping in a bed on solid ground after the past five nights of feeling the sway of the ship. The room was small, about the same size as the one on the ship, which are never large, but it was clean and comfortable. The was a beautiful large pool in the courtyard, just a tad too chilly, since it was mid March. One more day here would be nice..

I had looked at possible hotels in Paris, but hadn’t made a decision. We were flying into Orly Airport, which was southeast of Paris. We definitely wanted to see the Eiffel Tower which was close to the center of the city. Our flight on Sat was out of Charles De Gaulle which was northeast of the city. Then there was the temple. A main catalyst for this whole trip was to see and visit the Rome LDS Temple. When that reality was crushed, we were determined to see another one in Europe. That had been a huge part of my decision to leave the ship. If we could get to Paris before Sat, we could visit the Paris Temple. The temple was southwest of the city center. Plotting all these locations was making it difficult for me to decide on a spot to stay. I would decide after our fun at the beach.

Up to this point in our trip, I had been very happy with the breakfast spreads in our hotels and on the ship. JS Palma Stay is no exception. Even with the nominal charge, the offerings were vast and varied. Starting the day with a good meal has always been a priority for me, so this morning would follow suit. As we all ate, we discussed what we would do today. No longer would we rely on a planned excursion. We were on our own. We decided to go look for bikes to ride up and down the beach with. Rhonda lamented that she was missing out on our couples massage on the ship. It had been scheduled for today. Before we got off the ship the previous night, she had gone up and transferred the massage to my mom. At 75 years old, mom had never had a massage in her life.

We found a bike rental shop and were all outfitted with cruisers. Half of us opted for the electric models, me included. This part of the beach was a long U shaped cove, probably 2-3 miles long. A wide beach walk/street followed the beach. I had put a pullover on this morning over my shirt, but it didn’t take long to remove it. The beach was beautiful. The weather was beautiful. The temperature was right around 70 degrees, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun felt good. We stopped and shared sunscreen for our faces.

For the most part there weren’t many people out and about. A few people on the beach here and there, but I’m sure a very different scene from summer. It was easy to envision thousands and thousands of people on the beach and in the shops that lined the other side of the wide pathway. I could be talked into coming back here…

We reached the point where the road curved around to the right and out to a point. The sandy beach would change to rock. Everyone was thirsty, so we parked and locked the bikes. After a refreshing beverage, we decided that we needed to at least put some toes in the Mediterranean Sea that stood before us. When I got dressed that morning, I had put on a pair of shorts. Then I changed out of them into jeans because I thought it would be too chilly. At this moment, I regretted that decision. The shorts and flip flops would have made it so much easier than taking off boots and rolling up jeans. Notwithstanding, I was determined to at least get the bottoms of my feet wet.

We frolicked in the water, wrote in the sand and just enjoyed the serenity of our location. It was breezy and more and more sailboats were filling the bay. Finally, it was time to make our way back. The Cottens had spotted some things at a souvenir shop on the way out, so we would leisurely ride back, stopping whenever something caught an eye. They were the only couple on the trip that still have young kids at home. Their youngest are twins and are twelve years old. As a parent, you can’t go on a trip like this without bringing home something for each child.

We returned the bikes and on the way back to the hotel, stopped at a sidewalk cafe for lunch. Rhonda and I had a table to ourselves, something that really hadn’t happened since the trip began. It was nice to sit in the warm sun and watch the smiles of this woman that I love. Since we had left, she was unable to use her flat iron or roller dryer because of the electrical power difference from home. She constantly complained that her hair was unruly and terrible looking. I thought she looked beautiful. We decided to do appetizers again and chose a variety.

When we had left the hotel that morning, we paid the fee for a late checkout for one room. Then we piled all the luggage in that room. Our rooms were all adjacent on the second floor. There were 2 elevators with a stairway in between. As Rhonda and I approached the first elevator, the Muellers and Haggards were stepping inside. The moved aside so we could squeeze in, and it was a definite squeeze…

The elevator started to move slowly. It moved a foot or so and groaned. Then it slammed back down. There were screams. It groaned and started to move again, then slammed back down, this time harder than before. The screams were louder. It was not going to move again. Clint pryed the door open next to him, which was not the door we entered. A block wall was visible. The tension inside was growing very quickly. Rhonda is claustrophobic in situations like this, and we learned that Joe is too. Joe pryed the door open and the floor was visible about one foot up. I guessed that we had dropped to the bottom. As soon as the door was open, Rhonda was pushing past Amy and poor Melinda to get out at the same time that Joe was trying to push past Rhonda. She tripped on the difference in heights and sprawled across the floor outside. Joe was out next in a flurry. We all laughed like school kids. It’s a good thing we didn’t all get on from the second floor. I am convinced it would have plummeted to the bottom. They were sure we had been stuck inside for an extended time, maybe hours. My guess was that it was about 12 seconds.. I wouldn’t be surprised if the elevator is still broke.

After calming the nerves of a couple of unnamed subjects, we headed up the stairs to gather our luggage. Our flight was scheduled for 5:50, and because we weren’t really familiar with the workings of European airports, we wanted to make sure we gave ourselves plenty of time. We summoned another herd of taxis and waited in the lobby. We could see the airport across the highway from where we were, but there was no easy route to walk.

The layout of their airports is definitely different from what we are used to in the US and it took a few minutes for us to find the ticket counter to check the bags. Going through security was easy, more so than home, but still effective. The terminal was huge. For the size and population of the island, it is disproportionate, but it handles 23 million passengers a year. Palma is the Hawaii of Europe. We found a place to kick back while some of the girls headed over to the duty free shops. It was like Walmart inside an airport. The prices were not on par to US airports either. You can buy a Coke and not feel like you were held up at gunpoint. I settled in to make a decision on a hotel. I figured we might as well stay close to the Eiffel Tower since we would want to see the sights in that area.

Somehow the other six got Zone 2 boarding, while Rhonda and I had Zone 4. As we walked down the isle, they were all lined up picture perfect. As it turned out the flight was only half full. The effects of Coronavirus were being felt. The flight to Madrid was a quick hour and we went straight to the gate to board the 2 hour flight to Paris. Once again the flight was not full and the time passed quickly as I listened to my favorite band Rush, while studying the inside of my eyelids.

Paris, 10:30pm

We grabbed all the luggage off the carousel and walked towards the taxi area. There were big signs all over the baggage claim area warning travelers to only use licensed taxis. As soon as we stepped into the concourse heading toward the outer door, we were bombarded by men trying to offer rides. I found it strange that the authorities would put so much effort into warning travelers, but then allow the perpetrators to stand INSIDE the airport, ten feet from the signs.

Out in the taxi line, we told the attendant that we needed 2 large cars or vans. The three taxi thing was getting old. We knew it was a 20 minute drive to the hotel. We had to wait for 20 minutes before our vehicles arrived, then we loaded up and gave the drivers the address.

The Art Hotel Eiffel was on Boulevard De Grenelle, a busy divided street with an elevated metro running down the middle. There were five floors with five rooms on each floor. The rooms were small, but not too small. At least there was room for our suitcases to stand in the corner. We were all hungry as we hadn’t had time to eat anything since the airport in Palma over 6 hours earlier. Where do you eat after midnight in Paris? McDonalds of course. Three doors down from the hotel.

Tuesday, March 10

Monday evening we had eaten dinner in the dining room with most of the group. When we finished, a few of us went upstairs to play cards and listen to music. There was an indoor pool on Deck 16 with a stage at one end. The pool shut down early, but music was played until around midnight. Brent and Janet (The Card Shark) are the game masters. They can always be counted on to have some type of game going on. We played until just before midnight and headed for our stateroom.

I checked my phone for messages, and saw a google news story about the whole country of Italy being on lock down. I turned on the TV and searched until I found an English speaking news channel. Sure enough the big news was that the Prime Minister was closing the borders and that people should stay home. A doom hovered over me. We were to dock in Palma de Mallorca in the morning and then Wednesday was a sea day back to disembark in Rome on Thursday morning. I didn’t want to go back to Italy.

I went downstairs to the Customer Service Desk. There were a couple of attendants and a few people in line. It was after midnight. I talked to a young lady and asked if it was possible to leave the ship at Palma de Mallorca. She said that all we needed was our passports, paperwork and to close out our accounts on the ship. I wasn’t clear what she meant by paperwork, but it didn’t sound difficult. I asked what would happen when the ship got back to Rome, now that the whole country was on lock down. I was told that they had no idea. The news was too new.

During the trip, the entire group had been using Facebook Messenger to keep in touch. Some didn’t have cell phone service, but had purchased internet on the ship. During excursions, internet wifi was available at many locations. I sent a message to the group..

“We are probably getting off the ship tomorrow. Italy on 100% lockdown.  I don’t want to get stuck there.  I have emails into Cruise Builders, but don’t expect much help.  I went down to the Service Desk, but the news is so new that they said they don’t know what will happen when we get back to Rome.  They said we can disembark tomorrow if we want.  Just have to bring travel documents down and make sure our bill is paid 100%.”

There were 16 in our group. Our air travel had been booked in groups. Rask, Cotten, Haggard and Mueller were all under the same confirmation number. The Larsens were on another number, though the 12 of us were on the same flights. Eunice and Teresa were separate and were to leave Rome on Friday. My mother and sister had been booked on completely different itineraries and were also leaving on Friday. Our flight home was scheduled to leave Rome on Saturday morning.

I had done all could until I was able to speak to the others and no one was responding. Everyone was asleep. I might as well do the same. It was 1am and it appeared that this was going to be a long day.

I was up at 6:30 and headed for the buffet at 7. I ran into numerous couple of the group and explained my thoughts. Larsens were definitely staying as was Eunice and Teresa. Mom and RoAnn didn’t have the ability to make changes. They never purchased internet on the ship and their phones weren’t set up with international plans. Haggards were absolutely in with my plan. Cotten and Muellers seemed interested, but wanted more information.

Our trip home connected through Paris, so my plan was to get to Paris to meet that flight. I needed to talk to Delta Airlines to make sure that if we didn’t check in at Rome, our whole trip wouldn’t be cancelled. That is typical protocol. I called Delta and was routed to give my name to be put in line for a call back. The estimated time was 6 hours. That was not a good thing.

I walked down the hall to the Nuccis room. Brad is a frequent Delta flyer. I think he has Super Duper Platinum Good Guy Status, or something. He had just got off the phone with them and changed his Sat flight out of Rome to Friday. I told him about my 6 hour wait, so he called back with his secret number. He was put on hold, but said it wouldn’t take long. I went back to our room and started to look at flights from Palma to Paris. I didn’t want to click the “buy” button until I knew that our Rome flight could be cancelled without affecting the Paris flight.

A few minutes later, Sandra comes in and hands me Brads phone. I explain my desire to the representative after giving him the confirmation number. He states that he will need to call Air France, since the first leg is flown by them. After a few minute wait, he comes back and says that, yes, we can cancel the first leg without any penalties or fees. “What do you want to do?” Crunch time. I need to make a decision now… for all eight of us. Four haven’t completely signed on.

“Do it”, I tell the representative. He tells me to hold for another moment. The wheels are spinning in my head. “Am I doing the right thing?” The answer that comes back from myself is YES. A few moments later, he returns and tells me that it is done. I will receive an email confirmation soon. I hang up and tell Rhonda that we need to let the others know that the plan is in motion.

We had been looking forward to today’s excursion, a visit to the Drach Caves and then Majorica Pearls. I tell Rhonda that it may be best if I stay on the ship to try to get things organized. Ever the optimistic one, she tells me to come on the trip. We will be back to the ship by 3pm and the ship isn’t scheduled to leave until 6. I am already scouring the Kayak app and other European airline sites looking for the most affordable flight to Paris. I figure the best route would be to stay in Palma tonight and fly out on Wed. That means we need to find a hotel. It is also obvious that the easiest way to do this is for me to make all the reservations so that everyone is on the same flights, and in the same hotels.

Brett and Clint are a little upset at first when finding out that I had made the decision on my own. That is understandable. We are going to embark on a completely uncharted journey for the next five days. We don’t have airline tickets or hotels. I understand the uneasiness. The Cottens had left their room with a bag of laundry to go out during the day. Now they need to make sure that doesn’t happen. They make calls to customer service, but have no idea if it will get stopped.

As the bus heads toward the Dragon Caves, I decide on airline tickets for Wed afternoon late and purchase them for the eight of us. We will fly through Madrid to Paris. Next, I start to look for a hotel with four rooms. I always read reviews before booking anything, and I find a highly reviewed place close to the beach about a fifteen minute drive from the cruise terminal. With those two major tasks taken carefully, it’s time to enjoy the day.

Drach Caves was very cool. A huge under ground labyrinth of caves that were formed by water from the Mediterranean Sea being forced in through an entrance. A large underwater lake over 100 yards long lies inside. Toward the end of the walk there was a large seating area overlooking the lake. A small boat passed from one side to the other with four musicians playing classical music on a cello, harpsichord and two violins. It was very serine and beautiful. We then loaded into boats and were paddled to the other end of the lake and the path to the exit.

After loading back on the bus, we headed to the tourist trap that trumps all tourist trap. Majorica Pearl. Of course Rhonda was excited to see this company that has been making pearls since 1890. They are considered to be the worlds leading manufacturer of cultured pearls. After digging the credit card out, I headed back to the bus with a happy wife.

Another nap on a bus and we were back to the ship. After some lunch, it was time to pack and get ourselves off the boat. We all agreed to meet downstairs at 4pm to discuss the plan. I stopped by Customer Service again to clarify what would be needed and was told our passports and travel plans. At 4pm we would start the disembarkation process, not make plans… Luckily I had made the flight and hotel reservations that morning. Rhonda had headed upstairs to start packing her suitcase. These rooms don’t have enough space for both of us to pack at the same time, and by the time I got to the room from Customer Service, thankfully, she was almost done.

We made sure that everyone understood that we all needed to be downstairs ready to go by 4:30. After we were all there, we met with the rep. Each couple had to fill out paperwork with our personal information. They needed copies of all the passports and then it got fun… Even though Palma de Majorca is a part of Spain, because it is an island, there are stricter regulations for non Europeans arriving. Especially from a cruise ship when we didn’t board from there. By email, I had to send the boarding passes for both flights for each of us. I also had to send the confirmation for the hotel that night, listing each couple individually.

While we were in the process, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. Because of the lockdown in Italy, when the ship arrived to a Rome, only disembarking passengers would be allowed to leave. No new passengers would board. All others would have to remain on the ship. That would be also be the case when the ship docked in La Spezia and Savona. Essentially, when the ship returned to Palma de Mallorca in a week, it would be empty of passengers.

The clock moved past 5pm, then 5:30. The departure time for the ship was 6:00 and we started to get nervous. Would the ship just untie and leave if we were still not cleared to disembark? Some of the emails I sent didn’t have the right info, so I had to send more. The stress was mounting.

Finally a little before 6, I was assured that the ship wouldn’t leave until everything was done. We weren’t the only ones trying to get off. I talked to a couple from Texas that were trying also. There was other luggage in the area from other passengers. The rep came over again with more requirements from immigration. They had our flight info off the island the next day. They had our hotel reservation for that night. They had our flight info from Paris to LAX. What they didn’t have was our accommodations in Paris for the three nights we would be there. I hadn’t made those reservations yet. I was going to do it on Wednesday without the stress. Now we needed it.

I asked if there was something else that would suffice and was told my bank account. If they could see that I had enough money in my account to purchase 3 nights in Paris, that would work. I thought it odd since there were 8 of us, but I guess since all the flights and hotel rooms were booked by me… I opened my bank app and found a page with the info they wanted. Making sure that it didn’t show account numbers, I sent to the rep. Within 5 minutes, we were handed our passports and told we could leave.

We headed down to deck 3 and walked off the gangway onto the dock. It was twilight, with night lights just turning on. There were a few attendants inside the otherwise empty terminal. We were asked if we needed transportation. Si. We asked them to send 3 taxis. We each had a large suitcase, some had a second small one and then there were Amy and Joe. They had enough luggage for four people.

While we were waiting for the taxis, a couple came up with their luggage. It turned out that they had boarded the ship just the day before in Barcelona. When the announcement came about the ports being closed in Italy, they had decided to jump ship. He said they would spend their vacation on the beach in Palma. In the end, I’m not sure how many got off, but it was under twenty, including our eight. As I look back now, I realize that when I left the ship, I never turned around to look back at it.

A fifteen minute ride later, the taxis pulled up to the JS Palma Stay hotel. Inside, a clerk who resembled Tony Stark, a fact that he knew and seemed to relish, worked on the details of our rooms. A short time later we were on the lookout for food. It had been a long, stressful evening.

There was virtually no traffic outside as we walked the block and a half to the shore from the hotel to the restaurant. As we walked by the shore, the Costa Smerelda could be seen in the distance, leaving the island. It was a strange sight to see the ship from a distance, all lit up. It was close to 9pm when we walked into the empty restaurant next to the beach. No doubt they were elated to have 8 people come in late. The food was great and the staff was fun and attending. The four guys felt comfortable as we all spoke Spanish.

Saturday, Mar 7

We wake up to the ship coming into Savona, Italy. This will be our last stop in Italy until we return to Rome the following Thursday. As Coronavirus news gets bigger and bigger, my desire to return to Italy lessens and lessens. Italy has locked down the highly infected north part of the country. Milan and even Venice are completely closed. We learn that all of the locations that we had visited in Rome on Tuesday are now closed. There is talk that the Rome Temple will probably close. The main reason we had booked this trip will be closed. It seems that our vacation of a lifetime is beginning to unravel. I have serious thoughts about disembarking from the ship before it gets back to Rome. I tell Rhonda and she brushes it off, so I let it go.

There were two possible excursions we could have taken and we chose to go to ancient Genoa. The other was a trip to Monaco. Some of our group, including my mother and sister went there. Fast cars and casinos didn’t interest us as much as more old buildings apparently..

Genoa is another port city south of Savona, so we had a 45 minute bus ride. I drive almost 40,000 miles a year and rarely have a problem staying awake. Put me in the passenger seat or the back of a bus, and I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, regardless of how much sleep I had the night before. Even with the tour guide rambling on over the speaker on the bus, I managed to miss most of it. After dropping some people off for “free time” at the port, the bus headed up to the top of a hill to deposit us for our guided walk back down to the port.We walked for a couple of hours, hearing stories of particular buildings or locations. Unless you are a real history buff, much of the information went in one ear and out the other. It seemed that every plaza we came to was “the most important plaza of the city” for some reason or another. The were some beautiful buildings and statues though.

There was a prearranged stop at a small museum of sorts. We were lead upstairs to a room that had a table with Foccacia bread, some other “bread” that looked and tasted like 30 year old seaweed, wine and water.
In the corner of the room sat a grand piano. Right away I knew that Joe would be looking for permission to sit behind it. I grabbed a plate of bread, a glass of water and walked into the next room to sit at a table. In a few minutes the sound of the piano filled the whole second floor. He played a song and then started another. This time though, a voice was heard with the piano. Clint and Joe had obviously practiced a bit before the trip, looking for the opportunity to share. Clint shined in this moment unlike his attempt to impersonate Cher a couple of night previously. This would have won him the prize that night.

I made my way back to the room they were in just as they were finishing. Joe then continued with other song. The host of the building, an older man in his mid sixties, watched with a huge smile across his face. As Joe finished, he stood and looked down at this beautiful instrument with a wide grin that showed he was in his element. I talked to the host for a few moments and he explained that the piano had belonged to Princess Caroline and that is was valued at 1 million dollars. When Joe heard that, his mouth opened with surprise. I will say that in that room with a tall ceiling and tiled floor, the sound of the Steinway was extraordinary. Another highlight..

We made our way back to the street and continued toward the port. Just before crossing a small bridge into the port we stopped at a small edifice. A banner indicated that this was the birth home of Christopher Columbus. Many, including myself, forget that he was Italian. When Italy wouldn’t fund his expedition, he was able to get financial backing from Spain.

The group made our way into the port area and were given a short time to browse before meeting back at the bus. Free time always means more gelato! After taking a few pics (Rhonda came home with almost 1500), we stepped into a shop for the tasty treat. As we made our way toward the bus, I looked at my watch and saw that we were out of time. At that point I hear the all too familiar “I need to pee”. As was pointed out earlier, finding a public restroom can be a daunting task. She said there was no way she could ride the bus for 45 minutes without going. We passed another gelato shop, and saw the familiar sign for restroom, so she hurried in, competitor gelato in her hand and all. I figured I may as well make use of the opportunity too. As we exited and approached the bus, I saw it lurch forward. I ran forward and banged on the back with my hand. Our group was all in the back so they yelled at the same time. The bus slammed to a halt and we jumped on to the cold stare of the tour guide. Nap time.

Sunday, March 8

Today would be our first day out of Italy since we arrived in Europe. I slid the curtain open at 7:20am to see the coast of France less than a half a mile away. The ship was still entering the port of Marseille. Looking at a map of our ports, I figure the ship must be doing circles out in the open water all night, because the distances weren’t far. Certainly not a 10 hour journey.

I think Rhonda was tiring of the breakfast buffet, because she didn’t want to go down. “Grab me a chocolate croissant” she said. I have always been a breakfast person and always function best if I have a good meal in the morning, so I headed down to stuff my belly.

Today our excursion involved nothing more than a bus ride to Aix-en-Provence. We would be dropped off to spend 3 hours on our own. That was a relief for a couple of reasons. We had purchased a spa package with a couples massage and unlimited time in the spa. We were looking forward to spending a few hours in a hot tub, sauna and just relaxing after all the the full days of excursions. The 3 hour free time also meant that I didn’t have to listen to another tour guide drone on all day in barely decipherable English.

After getting off the bus with directions to the city square and hub of activity, we made our way up the street. As always, the streets were lined with scooters and smart cars. At each intersection there were long streets, barely wide enough for one small vehicle. I envisioned my 4 wheel drive, full size lifted truck in this part of the world. It wouldn’t even fit down some streets, they were so narrow. In two weeks I think I saw 2 Nissan Titan trucks.

Today was the first time that Mom and RoAnn were on the same excursion as us. We arrived at the square and found a large plaza with restaurants lining one side. On the other side there were vendors set up in street fair setting. This stretched for probably over a quarter of a mile from one end to the other. Julia had become our bathroom master. She had to go more than anyone, all the time. It seemed as though we were always in search of the closest toilette. Once again we looked for a suitable business that would have facilities. Up until this point, almost one week in, I still hadn’t had a crepe. Here I was standing in a French city on a Sunday morning. I was going to enjoy a crepe and we would find Julia her relief. Of course she is the scapegoat, but we all follow suit.

We settled on a picture perfect sidewalk cafe. Tables were pushed together and we sat and enjoyed the atmosphere. Brett said he didn’t want to waste his time sitting at a cafe, so he bound off in search of the nearest cathedral. We ordered crepes and hot chocolate. A perfect combination for the beautiful late morning.

After our brunch, everyone split up to enjoy the area. A favorite snack of Rhonda and I are Macaroons, so we found a bakery and bought a small box. We walked from one end of the street fair to the other looking for anything interesting. We purchased a couple of items and then made our way back to the bus.

As on as we were back on the ship, we changed into our bathing suits and headed for the spa. We were going to get our moneys worth in hot tub and lounge time. After a couple hours there we headed back to get ready for dinner.

The previous night some of us had decided to go the Teppanyaki restaurant on Sunday evening. We had made a reservation for 14, but a few wound up doing other things, so only 10 of us were there. It was the perfect number for the table. Our chef was very funny and entertaining and the food was delicious. Once again there were many laughs. After we finished eating, Rhonda and I wandered the decks for while to walk of the effects, then headed to our stateroom to rest up for the next day.

Monday, March 9

We wake up in Barcelona, Spain. I am secretly excited about the next two days, because now we are in a country whose language I can understand. It’s been 35 years since I came home from Chile and I don’t use the language as much as I should, especially given my profession, but I know that I will at least be able to communicate.

Rhonda and I were looking forward to this day. We had booked an excursion with Segways. Barcelona by Segway. We would have a 2 hour Segway tour and be on our own for as long as we wanted.. up till the last bus at 5:30pm. It turns out that Eunice and Teresa would be going with us. When we get to the bus, we find that there are only 6 on the tour, the four of us and a mother and son from San Diego. The bus drops us off at the Segway shop and we are issued Segways. We walk them across the street to get orientation and practice in a large plaza.

When I first stepped on the thing, I thought for sure that is was going to throw me to the ground like a bucking bronco. I had visions of a broken arm. Amazingly, it only took a few seconds to get the feel of it. A couple minutes later and I was circling around a statue as the guide helped the others get acquainted with their machines.

Our tour would take us around to see the architecture of Antoni Gaudi. His works are unlike any others. There are no straight lines, no 45 or 90 degree angles. The buildings truly are “gaudy”. That phrase is a part of our language to describe something that is over the top, something ostentatious. We passed by three or four of his buildings on the way to his most famous work, La Sagrada Familia. This church dwarfs everything in Barcelona. It was started in 1882 and is still under construction. It probably won’t be finished for another 20 years. There have been periods in the last century where no work has taken place, as the entire project is privately funded. No church or state funds are used. Today there are large cranes as they build the spires higher and higher. It really is an amazing piece of architecture.

We made our way back to the starting point and turned in our two wheeled chariots. Our guide gave us directions so that we could head toward the beach for lunch and some shopping. The four of us found a restaurant with tables in an open plaza and sat down to enjoy a meal. Rhonda and I decided to try a few different tapas (appetizers) and they did not disappoint. It was some of our favorite food of the whole trip.

After eating, we walked a mile or so to the beach. Once again, scores of young African men sold selfie sticks, hats, blankets and other trinkets. It was literally the same thing over and over for another mile as we walked up the beach. I wonder how any of them could make any money with so many of them selling exactly the same things.. Rhonda found a souvenir shop and picked out a couple of things and the filled a water bottle with sand. Whenever we travel and there is a beach involved, she brings home sand. She has a collection of glass bottles in our spare bedroom with sand from all the places we have been.

Finally, we decided to make our way to the bus stop an back to the ship. It was still early so we changed our of our clothes again and headed to the spa. Our actual massages were scheduled for Thursday while the ship was at sea all day. We were looking forward to it.

Little did we know that in a few hours everything would change…

Thursday, March 5

Once again we allowed ourselves to sleep in. By this time the effects of jet lag had worn off and our bodies were adjusted to Italy time. 8 hours difference, so when we were getting up at 7am, it was 11pm at home. I am an early riser normally because of my profession, which over the years, has made it difficult to sleep late even if I try..

Because of our initial plans to go to Venice, we were now on own to get to the coast and the cruise ship. The tour group had gone to Florence on Wed and were coming back to Civitavecchia, a 7 hour round trip by bus. We didn’t want to spend that much time on a bus. That was one of the deciding factors to stay in Rome on Tuesday night. Brad had talked to the concierge at the hotel and arranged to have transportation pick us up at 11am. The ride to the cruise terminal was to be just under an hour.

We loaded our luggage and bodies into a Mercedes Van and a BMW sedan and bid farewell to the Hilton Rome Airport. After a couple of stops for goodies, water and potty, we could see the massive ship at the terminal. It was an odd site seeing this modern ship and building mixed with centuries old structures that would be the landing site to large vessels at the time. Those vessels would be dwarfed by the behemoth in front of us. The passenger elevators started at 3 and went to 17. The capacity is 6500 passengers with a crew of 1600. Over 8000 bodies at one time.

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After we unloaded our luggage and paid the drivers, we headed into the terminal. It was a relief to see so few people inside. I have only been on two previous cruises, but the embarkation has always been tedious and time consuming. Our luggage went one way and we went another. Boarding passes and passports were checked, and the final stop before stepping onto the ship was to stand on a spot while a body temperature scan was performed. Anyone with an elevated temperature would not be allowed to board, would be refunded and have travel arrangements made to go home.

We made our way up the gangway and into the ship. After chatting with crew members for a few minutes, we headed to deck 10 to find our stateroom. With the ship only 3 months old, everything was immaculate. It was also HUGE. We had opted for a balcony room and after along walk from the front to the back down a narrow passageway, we found our room. Our luggage was already sitting in front of the door. Very fast! I let Rhonda unpack her suitcase first and then I did so we could store them under the bed. There wasn’t enough room to put them anywhere else.

The ten of us met back down at the buffet to have some lunch while we waited for the others to arrive from the tour group. While we were eating, I looked up to see the familiar gait of my mother coming towards us. I asked how long it took to get on board and she replied that it was quick. There were 2 buses full of people just from the tour, plus others that were coming on, so I was surprised. I’ve never seen such easy loading.. especially for a ship this size. It was obvious that the Coronavirus issue was keeping some people from boarding. The next day I learned that this cruise was unlike ones I had been on previously. The ship made a circle and at every port, people would get on and off. There was no single starting point. 6 ports in a week, with people embarking and disembarking at each one. That’s why were we able to get on so easily.

Later that evening as we all made our way to the dining room, it was obvious that they hadn’t put us together as a group. We had specifically asked to be grouped together, and we were spread all over the large room. We spoke to the Maître d’ and asked to be put together. The next night we were all at a large round table for twelve and a small one for four next to it.

After dinner, we found that there was Karaoke going on in the main theater, so a few of us headed over. Time to release the Kracken! Everyone knows I am a drummer, and most know that I am a singing drummer. Now I am no Pavarotti, but with loud guitars, bass and drums, I can hold my own in a rock band. Clint on the other hand, has a beautiful voice. Sadly, Julia and Brett went to bed so we didn’t get to hear her. She probably would have mopped us all up.

There were two sessions of karaoke and we entered right at the end of the first one. This was karaoke on steroids, not just picking a song and singing for the crowd. There were 2 emcees and a judges panel similar to American Idol that sat up on the second level. There was a camera crew with large screens at the back of the stage for close up shots. As Clint and I looked over the songbook, I admit that I was a tad nervous. For the most part, when I perform, I have a barrier between myself and the audience. I sit in the back of the band, drums in front of me, bandmates in front of me. I always joke that all I see is ass all night. That barrier provides a level of protection between me and the audience. Once in a while, when a drummer friend is at a show, I will get out front with our lead vocalist, to sing a duet. Even then, I always figure the focus is on her.

I looked through the song list for something I had sung in the past. None of my usuals were there. A few minutes later, I settled on the Beatles song, Twist and Shout. I had sung it many times and there was always a mixture of singing and screaming. Clint, the real vocalist of the two of us decided to really shake it up and go with a song that suited his style and demeanor perfectly. Cher.. If I Could Turn Back Time.

Because we were early in the sign ups, we had the benefit of performing in the first 10 minutes. Clint was second or third after a couple of horrendous versions of some forgettable songs. The judges weren’t too nice with him and gave him low scores. In a way, I had to agree with them. His song choice was akin to Bob Dylan singing an opera. He is definitely a better singer than they witnessed. I followed and managed to at least stay on key, which was better than 90% of the participants. A couple of the judges even came down and danced on the floor with me. The crowd reacted well and when it came time for my scores, I faired respectably. I was in the lead for much of the night. Remember that this ship is Italian, so as Americans, we were in the minority. By the time the last person sang, they had given higher marks to a couple of natives. Alas.. I was left out in the cold. I think had performed towards the end, I might have faired better. In the end we all had a blast and there were lots of guttural laughs that evening.

Friday, March 6

When we woke up, the ship was docking in La Spezia, Italy. Our excursion for the day would take us to the Tower of Pisa and a walking tour of Florence. One of the highlights of the day for me didn’t include centuries old buildings, but was a view from the bus as we bounded down the highway. The mountain range to the east of the Ligurian Sea (a section of the overall Mediterranean Sea), in this area of the country are solid marble. When you see them from a distance, they look snow covered. There is no snow at those elevations in March. That is pure marble. Italian marble that is shipped all over the world. As we traveled down the highway, quarry after quarry… for miles and miles. Incredible to think that they are still cutting marble out, 2000 years after the Romans were doing it.

When the bus parked in Pisa, we were given just over an hour to explore. Of course there had to be the obligatory photos of holding the tower up. People lined the walkway in various poses trying to get the perfect shot. It was difficult to get a picture of your own subject, without getting at least one more in the background doing the same thing.

We paid the fee to climb to the top. A circular stairway rose just inside the exterior wall. The center is open from the bottom to the top. It is literally a stairwell with a platform in top. There were numerous bells, which gave distinctive notes when banged on by my fist. What I found intriguing, was how the marble steps had been worn over the centuries. Because of the lean, your body naturally moves to the inside or outside of the walkway, depending on whether you are on the side that leans toward the ground or the other side. The wear on the steps was substantial.

After we gathered a couple of souvenirs, and bought a can of Coke sin zucchero (Coke Zero) so we could use a bathroom, we made our way back to the bus for the drive into Florence. In Florence there was lots of old buildings. They were all starting to look the same to me, even though the tour guides seemed excited to tell us about the history of this Cardinal or that rich family. We did get some free time to stop at a very popular sandwich shop. It was so popular that they opened a second shop right next door. Imagine having 2 of the same business next to each other.. Oh yeah.. we do.. Starbucks. Both shops had lines that were down the street. The sandwiches were large, made with big loaves of focaccia bread cut in half. Mine was stuffed with tomatoes, mozzarella and ham. Very tasty and understandable why the lines were long. After the sandwiches we enjoyed more GELATO.

We got on the bus, and it started to rumble down the highway. Once again I began to study the insides of my eyelids.

That night we found that we had all been moved to a different dining room to be together. It was fun to share with everyone about the days activities. With no more karaoke, and tired feet, we decided to hit the sack to rest up for the next days walking adventure…

Tuesday, March 3

Because we had originally planned to go to Venice on the 3rd and 4th, we had purchased tickets for a Vatican/Ancient Rome tour for after the cruise. Once we cancelled Venice it left those days open. The tour director from Cruisebuilders told us that we still had tickets to the Vatican/Ancient Rome through them. We could come with them on Tues, so that’s what we did.

First stop was Vatican City. The Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica. We took lots of pictures everywhere except the Sistine Chapel. Cameras were not allowed in there. I had to restrain Rhonda a couple of times from trying to sneak…

What I learned that day was how absolutely brilliant Michelangelo was. There are beautiful sculptures that he did as a young man. The ceiling in the Sistine Chapel was done when he was in his late 30’s, early 40’s and then he came back in his 60’s and painted the Last Judgement on the wall of Sistine. He was an architect and designed important buildings in Florence. He died a few weeks before his 89th birthday. A long and fruitful life for the 16th century.

After our visit to the Vatican, we had a short time to get lunch on our own. I learned that often tour guides may suggest dining locations not solely on their quality.. Our first lunch in Italy was blah. They did have gelato, so our first of many tastes of the Italian dessert was there.

We climbed back in the buses to be transported over to start a walking tour of Ancient Rome. Where our guide through the Vatican had been boring and had a voice that seemed to drone on and push at that button in your brain that is labeled “annoying”, our new walking guide was enthusiastic, knowledgeable and enjoyable. We walked. We went inside the Colosseum. We walked… through the Forum and then through more streets of the centuries old city. We had a bit of free time at Trevi Fountain, so after throwing a coin over our left shoulders for good luck, more gelato. Public restrooms are not easy to find, so the best solution is to go into a small shop and buy something. We ate lots of gelato in our quest to relieve our bladders in the coming days.

We walked to the Pantheon. A massive building completed in 125AD. There is a huge open circle in the middle of the dome. The opening was the only light inside. The floor is sloped to allow rain water to flow to the middle, where there are drains that divert the water to a river. Incredible engineering for 2000 years ago.

After the Roman Empire fell, many of the structures were dismantled by the popes of the following centuries to use the materials for new structures. The Pantheon originally had bronze all across the inside of the dome, which was then removed centuries later to be used elsewhere. It was also turned into a Catholic church.

Night had set in and it was time for the tour group to return to the buses to transfer to a new hotel. The 10 of us.. Rask, Nucci, Mueller, Haggard and Cotten were returning to the same hotel, so we bid goodbye to the others and decided to find a good restaurant to have dinner before finding our way back… a 30 minute drive. We asked our tour guide as he was preparing to head his own way and he offered to take us to a good spot for dinner. A block away from Navona Plaza, he introduced us to Navona Notte, a quaint restaurant. He decided to stay too and his girlfriend met him there. We enjoyed our first real Italian meal of pizza, pasta and bread. I had prawns, which was a single, fully intact prawn, eyeballs and all. The food was delicious and after walking around 15,000 steps, it felt good to rest our feet.

Brad had managed to learn that our hotel had a shuttle that left every other hour from Rome, so after dinner we headed to the bus stop. It was a 20 min walk from the restaurant, but was free. Once again, David, our tour guide walked us to the bus stop and even waited until the bus arrived. He really was a great guy, and made that evening enjoyable and worry free. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep on the bus. I woke up as we pulled up to the hotel, grabbed my backpack and zombied my way to our room.

Wed, Mar 4

After allowing ourselves to sleep in a bit, we hopped on the bus to go explore more of Rome. The Muellers said they would catch up to us later. They did, that night, when we came back to the hotel. We walked a lot again and were able to spend a little more time in areas that we had passed through the previous day. We walked to the Spanish Steps, which were on Rhondas list of things to see. They were completely underwhelming.

We spent some time in shops around Trevi Fountain. We ate more gelato and looked for a place to have lunch. Amy is very good at finding great places to eat, so we let her pick the spot. Via Luigi Petroselli had a tiny little store front on a busy pedestrian pathway. As I looked inside, I wondered how they would seat us all together. After a 15 min wait, they ushered between the bar and one row of tables to the back. Down a steep circular stairway we found a small but adequate dining area. 4 tables had been moved together, so we all squeezed into place. After we had finished and everyone had taken turns at the sole toilette, we made our way upstairs and back out onto the street. From my perspective, Amy had come through and picked a perfect spot. It was one of the best meals of the whole trip.

As with almost anywhere you will go in the world, there is poverty. For 2 weeks, in every location we went we experienced it. Most often, especially in high tourist areas, people were selling things on the street. By far, the thing we saw most was the selfie stick. Every single location had droves of men selling selfie sticks. The vast majority of them were very dark skinned Africans. Obvious transplants trying to make a life. Next to the Eiffel Tower or on a beach in Barcelona, it was always the same scene. Some were very pushy and obnoxious, but most of them moved on to another potential customer as soon as they realized we weren’t interested.

It’s important to always be aware of your surroundings when you are in an unfamiliar place. I am a people person watcher to begin with, so my eyes were always scanning our surroundings looking for potential problems. Pick pockets are a known issue in lots of tourist areas of Europe. We experienced a couple of possible incidents, but being in a group with multiple sets of eyes proved to be a valuable asset as we enjoyed the views of our surroundings during our trip.

When we had dinner on Tues night at Navona Notte, David had pointed out that the Navona Piazza (plaza) was actually built on top of a Roman stadium. He showed us a spot where there was an underground tour of the stadium. After our Amy inspired lunch, we decided to go see the Stadio di Domiziano. The open area in the plaza sits directly above what used to be field and the buildings surrounding sit on top of the structure. The stadium could seat 35,000 and was used mostly for athletics, probably running because of the size. Circo Maximus, which is completely gone except for footings, was used for chariot races and large events. It could seat 250,000. Amazing feats of architecture and building! On the underground tour were a few of the arches and seating areas that had been excavated in the past. Absolutely intriguing to see how the past had been built on top of the ancient..

After more gelato and walking, we headed towards the bus stop, with a detour to see the Mouth of Truth, a sculpture with an open mouth. The legend is that once your hand was inside, if you told a lie, your hand would be severed. We arrived 5 minutes too late to test the veracity.. Once it was determined that our appendages were going to stay intact, we headed to the bus stop for our ride back to the hotel.

With sore feet and aching backs, we met up with Clint and Melinda in hotel restaurant and shared the days experiences. Tomorrow would be new adventure as we were transferring to the Costa Smerelda, our home for the coming week…