Mahón and Port Vendres


Mahón or Maó as its known in the local dialect, is the largest city and port of the sec­ond largest island (Minorca) of the Balearic Islands which are part of Spain. It is the sec­ond deep­est nat­ural har­bor in the world at 5km long and 900m wide, with very clear water.

The Carthagini­ans occu­pied the island in 205 BC and named the port after Mago Barca, the brother of Han­ni­bal. In the mid­dle ages Mahon was occu­pied by the Moors. In 1287 it cap­tured by Alfonso III of Aragon who estab­lished the King­dom of Majorca, a vas­sal state to the king­dom of Aragon. In 1707 the British took the island from the Span­ish and kept it until the Napoleonic Wars in the 18th cen­tury when it went back to Spain.

Many peo­ple believe that the city of Mahon is the birth place of may­on­naise, after the french defeated the British who were inhab­it­ing the port. The sauce was orig­i­nally known as “salsa mahonesa” in Span­ish and “maonesa” in Cata­lan (as it is still known in Menorca), later becom­ing may­on­naise as it was pop­u­lar­ized by the French. As well, a tra­di­tional cheese is still made on the island (for­matge de Maó) and is named after the city.

In the above map, Minorca is the island fur­thest to the right.

Our arrival into port was won­der­fully quiet and serene. We arrived at the island early in the morn­ing and started the long gen­tle glide towards the city, mov­ing from the rougher waves of the Mediter­ranean into the pro­tected and smooth waters of the harbour.

 

 

We softly glided past the still-sleeping rows of houses built along the banks includ­ing one built for pri­vacy in the har­bour itself. (Appar­ently it is known locally as “lit­tle Venice” and is some­times rented by Richard Branson)

 

 

After we docked we went on shore to wan­der around the Port of Mahon for a while. Also docked on the quay near our boat was a Span­ish galleon that was attract­ing the locals. We checked it out and took some pic­tures before sign­ing up for a cata­ma­ran ride and local his­tory tour of the har­bour and the town along its shores.

Return­ing to the port, we walked around the old town built majes­ti­cally on a cliff as a pro­tec­tive and defen­sive solu­tion to all the invad­ing armies.

As always it was soon time to leave and set sail for Port-Vendres (France)

Port-Vendres is a typ­i­cal Mediter­ranean fish­ing port, sit­u­ated near the Span­ish bor­der on the Cote Ver­meille in south west France. Port-Vendres is renowned for its numer­ous fish and sea food restau­rants and is one of the few deep-water ports in this part of the French Mediter­ranean coast. It takes freighters and cruise ships, as well as large and small fish­ing boats.

We were feel­ing tired and needed more of a down day, so we just wan­dered around the town look­ing at the local sights and tak­ing pictures.

We found this fun pile of old can­nons — the sign says that this is a trans­fer areas for the paulines pro­tected habi­tat and that any explo­sives should be kept in this zone. Dis­charge of explo­sives is for­bid­den. Brian found that sign and old canons together, really funny.

 

When we left port, the weather was start­ing to get a bit more intense for the first time in the cruise. The waves were get­ting choppy and there was a wind com­ing across the bay of lions. The boat had a bit of a roll but noth­ing too over the top or dif­fi­cult to deal with. Both of us found it quite fun to feel the boat roll and sway.

 

Barcelona

As we arrived in Spain (Barcelona to be more exact), Brandi’s voice decided to take its own vaca­tion, sim­i­lar to when it dis­a­peared before our wed­ding. It would not return until the end of the cruise. To say this was frus­trat­ing would be a huge under­state­ment. An inabil­ity to com­mu­ni­cate in any­thing but whis­pers — impos­si­ble in any crowded or pub­lic place. The other pas­sen­gers on the ship were vaguely sym­pa­thetic, but made lots of jokes about singing or talk­ing too much or Brian finally get­ting some peace and quiet for the first time in our mar­riage. Really it was just an annoy­ance, until get­ting out into the city.

In the city it was a lit­tle fright­en­ing. Barcelona is crowded, with peo­ple in every direc­tion, tourists and those look­ing to make money off them — legally or not. Push­ing and jostling and yelling, every­one try­ing to get our atten­tion, just a moment of it — in every direc­tion. If we were sep­a­rated in the crowd, Brandi had no way of get­ting Brian’s atten­tion. Not even the abil­ity to scream… But thank­fully it never came to that. We held hands or each other’s back­packs, and Brian was con­scious of not wan­der­ing off like he some­times is apt to do.

On our first day in Barcelona, we trav­elled the his­toric Ram­blas street; checked out La Boquería and strolled across the Plaça de Catalunya where sev­eral demon­stra­tors were camped out and even­tu­ally we arrived at the Block of Dis­cord as well as Casa Milà.

  • La Boquería is a lively pro­duce mar­ket that is an explo­sion of chicken legs, bags of live snails, stiff fish, deli­cious oranges, odd odours, and sleep­ing dogs.

  • Plaça de Catalunya is dot­ted with foun­tains, stat­ues, and pigeons, and is ringed by grand art deco build­ings. This plaza is Barcelona’s cen­ter. It’s the hub for the Metro, bus, air­port shut­tle, and tourist bus.

  • The Block of Dis­cord is where sev­eral col­or­ful mod­ernist facades com­pete for atten­tion along this sin­gle stretch of road. All were built by well-known archi­tects at the end of the 19th cen­tury. Because the man­sions look as though they are try­ing to outdo each other in cre­ative twists, locals nick­named the noisy block the “Block of Discord.”

  • Casa Milà — This Gaudí exte­rior laughs down on the crowds fill­ing Pas­seig de Grà­cia. Casa Milà, also called La Pedr­era (“The Quarry”), has a much-photographed roller coaster of melting-ice-cream eaves. This is Barcelona’s quin­tes­sen­tial mod­ernist build­ing and was Gaudí’s last major work (1906–1910) before ded­i­cat­ing his final years to the Sagrada Família

We wan­dered through Casa Milà with our cam­eras and the audio guide and learned all about Gaudí, his inspi­ra­tions behind the apart­ment build­ing he designed and how he devel­oped his tech­niques. His aes­thetic was very organic and way out­side the lines of the time. Even by today’s stan­dards his build­ings are strange — at the time, com­pletely groundbreaking

Between this fas­ci­nat­ing tour, a stop for some lunch at a street­side cafe, and a fight through the mar­kets to get back to our ship for the evening, it was a long day — but of course we were rewarded with lux­ury and com­fort back on board. Brandi vis­ited the spa for a facial before din­ner, which this evening was served on the top deck of the ship, open-air. Almost bar­beque style, but we still had cham­pagne and caviar, and servers car­ry­ing our plates back to our seats for us. The plan was for this to turn into a dancing-under-the-stars evening, but the wind picked up and every­one shiv­ered and headed back inside after din­ner. We per­son­ally didn’t find it too cold, but will admit we’re used to a dif­fer­ent level of cold than many of the oth­ers (lots of south­ern Cal­i­for­ni­ans and Texans).

The on boat enter­tain­ment this evening was a local fla­menco troupe, and they were truly impres­sive. One guy on gui­tar, one guy singing, two female dancers and one male dancer. Their body lan­guage, foot­work and emo­tion was amaz­ing. We are sure there was a story line to their per­for­mance, but of course we couldn’t really fol­low the language.

When we got back to our room there was a nice dis­play of swans, scat­tered rose petals, a bot­tle of wine and two notes, one from Maria our stew­ardess and another per­son­ally signed note from the Hotel Man­ager wish­ing us the best on our honeymoon!

For day 2 in Barcelona, we got up early and headed to Sagrada Familia, a cathe­dral that became Gaudí’s main pas­sion and where he devoted the last years of his life. At the time of his death in 1926, less than a quar­ter of the project was com­plete although he had been work­ing on it for over 30 years.

The slow­ness of con­struc­tion had never dis­turbed him, as when asked about the sub­ject of the extremely long con­struc­tion period, Gaudí is said to have remarked: “My client is not in a hurry.” (refer­ring to God). Cur­rently, one pro­jec­tion antic­i­pates con­struc­tion com­ple­tion around 2026, the cen­ten­nial of Gaudí’s death—while the project’s infor­ma­tion leaflet esti­mates a com­ple­tion date in 2028 or later.

Every­one had warned that the lineup to the cathe­dral would be very long (two hours, we were told), how­ever our arrival from the local metro sta­tion at 10am still only gave us a 10–15 minute wait in the the line before we were at the ticket window.

To say the cathe­dral is mas­sive is an under­state­ment, the com­ple­tion of the spires will make Sagrada Família the tallest church build­ing in the world. Gaudí’s orig­i­nal design calls for a total of eigh­teen spires, rep­re­sent­ing in ascend­ing order of height the twelve Apos­tles, the four Evan­ge­lists, the Vir­gin Mary and, tallest of all, Jesus Christ. Eight spires have been built, cor­re­spond­ing to four apos­tles at the Nativ­ity façade and four apos­tles at the Pas­sion façade.

We spent 4 or so hours walk­ing around Sagrada Família tak­ing pic­tures and learn­ing more about the life of Gaudí. We returned to the metro and saw that there was a funic­u­lar at the end of the line. Know­ing how much fun we had with the funic­u­lar in Aus­tria, we took it to the top of mon­juïc. This funic­u­lar was much less impres­sive as it was entirely under­ground. For­tu­nately, there was a much more scenic gon­dola from the funic­u­lar to the very top of the hill, to an old Span­ish fort.

We wan­dered around the fort, feed­ing the local fortress cats (we miss ours) and tak­ing pic­tures of the view and just relax­ing and mak­ing com­par­isons about urban sprawl. We returned via gon­dola and funic­u­lar to the metro and walked to the boat in time for depar­ture, and on to Mahón!

 

Cannes and Sanary-sur-Mer

A quick note, if you are read­ing this on our blog and not in an email; if you click e pic­ture they get big and full resolution

The first expo­sure to France was land­ing at Cannes. It was hot, extremely muggy, full of peo­ple prepar­ing for the upcom­ing Cannes film fes­ti­val. Tourists all over the place, and the locals seemed annoyed at them already. In the fist pic­ture you can see the many tents along the harbour-front ready for the red carpet.

We walked around town, Strolling through the old parts of town and through the mar­ket streets tak­ing some pic­tures and hav­ing the locals gen­er­ally con­fused by a keen inter­est in to their cul­ture. (Brian: I saw some baguettes lean­ing up against a door­way and thought it would make a fun pic­ture. As I was tak­ing the shot, a local walked by and mut­tered under her breath, “c’est seule­ment du pain, Mon­sieur” mean­ing “it’s only bread, sir”).

We did our best to hide in the shade, and wan­dered back to the boat in the after­noon to get away from the crazi­ness of the film fes­ti­val set-up.

Brandi sched­uled a full-body mas­sage on the boat and and Brian had a nap. As the boat was prepar­ing to leave the dock, a sud­den cloud burst rolled through the port made for some very inter­est­ing and fun cloud photos.

Sanary-sur-Mer is said to be the sun­ni­est place in France. It is sur­rounded by wooded hills that pro­tect the town, bay and fine sand beaches from the strong mis­tral wind. We signed up for an excur­sion to Aix-en-Provence (Aix pro­nounced Ex) and boarded a bus tour where we were dri­ven to town about an hour away upon arriv­ing we were led on a guided tour of the old town.

With sun-dappled squares, lux­u­ri­ant foun­tains, and Paul Cézanne’s hal­lowed stu­dio, this cap­ti­vat­ing uni­ver­sity town is con­sid­ered the main hub of Provence and the most cul­tural town in the region.

 

After the tour we had some free time to explore Aix-en-Provenance and we quickly found a cafė for our first expe­ri­ence of the French cafė lifestyle. In a word, amaz­ing! In the back­ground of the pic­ture below, is the old­est con­tin­u­ally oper­at­ing cafė in France.

We returned to Sanary-sur-Mer and wan­dered around the main harbor-front find­ing nat­u­rally grow­ing birds of par­adise flow­ers grow­ing all around. Even­tu­ally we returned to the ship for din­ner and drinks.

 

Portoferraio and Porto Venere

The two Ital­ian ports on our trip are the two lit­tle fish­ing towns of Porto­fer­raio and Porto Venere. The fact that they are both small, Ital­ian and based around the fish­ing indus­try is where the sim­i­lar­i­ties end, the two towns are quite dif­fer­ent in feel and energy.

Porto­fer­raio is a town in the ital­ian province of Livorno, on the edge of the epony­mous har­bor of the island of Elba and is the island’s largest city. Because of its ter­rain, many of its build­ings are sit­u­ated on the slopes of a tiny hill sur­rounded on three sides by the sea. In June 1814 it was handed over to Napoleon Bona­parte, as the seat of his first exile until his escape in Feb­ru­ary of 1815. Per­son­ally, we are not sure why any­one would want to escape it.

We had signed up for a wine tast­ing tour on this day, how­ever Brandi was feel­ing quite ill from the sun and exhaus­tion the days before so unfor­tu­nately we were forced to back out of the excur­sion. It was sad that we missed it how­ever it gave us the oppor­tu­nity to wan­der around Porto­fer­raio, enjoy sights and sounds of the local open air mar­ket and buy a hat for Brandi to keep the sun off her head.

Feel­ing quite burned out, we returned to the ship for lunch and ordered up some a very tasty room ser­vice of a prop­erly made cae­sar salad with anchovies and a Margherita pizza. This gave us the energy to do one last jaunt through the town on the lit­tle tourist train with a recorded com­men­tary of the town’s history.

We felt well enough to dine in the restau­rant again, and like the night before, made it an early evening — hop­ing to get our energy back for the next day, at Porto Venere.

Porto Venere is a town located on the Lig­urian coast of Italy in the province of La Spezia and is com­prised of three vil­lages of Fez­zano, La Gra­zie, and Porto Venere. In 1997 these three vil­lages and the vil­lages of Cinque Terre were des­ig­nated by UNESCO as a world her­itage site. A 12th-century Castello is only part of the local mil­i­tary past as the islands of Pal­maria, Tino, and Tinetto were all for­ti­fied dur­ing WWII as part of the axis occu­pa­tion of the region.

The town reminded us so much of the towns in Cinque Terre (very near here) with its very warm and approach­able ambiance. The build­ings are also very sim­i­lar — like colour­ful toy blocks stacked in the hills. Here, the homes along the waters edge were orig­i­nally built as defense tow­ers — seven sto­ries tall, and only three meters wide, each. The streets are nar­row and wind­ing, built to be eas­ily bar­ri­caded — through­out the town, many walls and arch­ways still stand today, despite being built in 1161.

Inter­est­ing side note on this one: since being in this region in 2008, we’ve con­sid­ered this area to be prob­a­bly the most beau­ti­ful place we’ve been in the world. When we were speak­ing to the woman at the “hos­pi­tal­ity desk”, she asked where we were from and she said “Oh! I have been there! And Banff! I think you live in the most beau­ti­ful part of the world!”.

We walked through an arch­way in an old brick wall, to find a beau­ti­ful lit­tle clear-turquoise cove sur­rounded by huge stone cliffs. There were sun­bathers on the rocks, and some swim­mers in the crys­tal clear water. This is known as Byron’s Grotto, after the Eng­lish Poet who swam across the gulf from there to visit his friend Percy Bysse Shel­ley at San Terenzo. We could have stayed here all day, but knew we had more of this lovely lit­tle town to see. We wan­dered up to the thir­teenth cen­tury church of San Pietro, which stands on a rocky tongue of land over­look­ing the sea — it was built on the site of a Roman tem­ple to Venus. From there we climbed higher still, to Saint Ambrose’s Fortress (built in the six­teenth cen­tury) where the views were also breath­tak­ing. At one lit­tle van­tage point, Brandi turned to Brian and said, “wow, it couldn’t be any more per­fect!”, but just then to prove us wrong, a but­ter­fly flit­ted by.

Once we had taken in all the views we could, we headed back down into town for some focac­cia and gelato. After that, we took a stroll along the water’s edge and a rest on a shady bench (within earshot of a very tal­ented piano & flute duo). Our last lit­tle jaunt of the day was on a lit­tle boat tour of three nearby islands — Pal­maria, Tino, and Tinetto. They are cur­rently unin­hab­ited, but are impres­sive sites of rocky cliffs and ruins of mil­i­tary for­ti­fi­ca­tions. Brian very badly wanted to take his cam­era into said ruins.

By this time, it was late after­noon and so we headed back to Seabourn Leg­end via ten­der, as it was a lit­tle too big to get right up close to the dock here. Once back on board, we decided to take a dip in the hot tub on the very front tip of the ship. We had yet another per­fect meal in the restau­rant, and you guessed it — bed time right after. We don’t really under­stand — we are cer­tainly the youngest pas­sen­gers on board, but just can’t seem to stay awake for any nightlife!

 

Cruise Day 1 - Embarkation

From the moment we entered the lit­tle air con­di­tioned build­ing in the port town of Civ­i­tavec­chia, it was clear we were about to expe­ri­ence a com­pletely new kind of travel. We were greeted with smiles by peo­ple in sharp uni­forms and crisp white gloves. They con­firmed the pro­nun­ci­a­tion of our last name, dis­cussed dietary requests, and every spo­ken syl­la­ble was warm and wel­com­ing. We had already dropped off our back­packs, we just had my purse and Brian’s cam­era bag on us — even then, they offered to carry them for us onto the ship. We were escorted onto the ship, and wel­comed by every pass­ing staff mem­ber. We ascended a spi­ral stair­case while a man strummed a gui­tar nearby. We were lead into the King Olaf lounge, where we were invited to eat and drink until we felt like offi­cially sign­ing in.

We were hon­estly a tad over­whelmed at this point. We were pretty sure we’d just stepped into some par­al­lel uni­verse. So we just checked in. They took pho­tos of us for our ship ID cards, and then a staff mem­ber appeared to show us to our suite.

Of course it is beau­ti­ful. A bal­cony and sit­ting room, a flower in a sil­ver vase, a bot­tle of cham­pagne chill­ing — a walk in closet (which we don’t even have at home). Moments later, a knock at the door. Maria, our stew­ardess, stood there with a tray of cham­pagne and caviar aper­i­tifs for us, and showed us around — how to work every­thing, etc.

Later, we made our way up to Sky Bar, which is an open-air bar on the top deck, and chit-chatted with some oth­ers. At some point we decided to walk around the boat to take some pic­tures, but weren’t sure if we could take our drinks with us. I turned to a woman who had been on a few of these cruises, and asked her. She laughed and said, “honey, this is your yacht. You can do what­ever you want, wher­ever you want, how­ever you want.”

We were exhausted from the heat and excite­ment of Rome ear­lier in the day, the run to the train and now tak­ing in all that is the Seabourn Leg­end but there was still a din­ner ser­vice to go. Once we were under­way we returned to our room, and changed into some fresh clothes for din­ner and pro­ceeded to the restau­rant on deck 3. The food was exquis­ite with wine par­ings through­out, first course was a wild mush­room soup and a red beet carpac­cio; sec­ond course seared scal­lops with crisp smoked bacon, truf­fle risotto with warm aspara­gus salad and of course the ser­vice was impeccable.

After din­ner we returned to our room and quickly fell asleep.