End of the Cruise--July 11, 2010

Copenhagen

July 11, 2010

“Something’s rotten in Denmark” is a quote from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, but it could also be said of our clothes. The cruise is over, and we have arrived in the wonderful “exchange” home in Copenhagen arranged for by our friends the Gilbertsons, and our first priority is to wash our laundry. The clothes washer is in high gear, and we are in our swimming suits, not only because they are the only clean clothes we possess, but because it is so hot here. We managed to be in the Baltic capitols for 10 days of perfect weather, a rare feat, but Copenhagen is uncomfortably warm and humid today. I’m glad we don’t have to be vigorously pursuing historical locations in the heat and humidity, but by tonight I’ll be wishing for our air-conditioned stateroom aboard ship.

The people who run Princess Cruises have already emailed us asking our opinions about the trip, and I was pleased to give them high grades. The four of us talked last night about our highlights, and our list included:

1. St. Petersburg. What a beautiful city filled with treasures! Its history is rich in drama and tragedy, and the Hermitage is filled with art from around the world. Obviously, we saw only the surface, and Russia is not exactly easy for tourists to see, but it was a thrill to be there. And I was more than thrilled to view Rembrandt’s works, especially “The Prodigal”.

2. Helsinki, Tallin, Gdansk—new cities for us to see, and cities that I might not have chosen to see, but cities worth visiting. I particularly enjoyed learning more of Poland’s history, especially about the Solidarity Movement and its push towards freedom from Russia.

3. The weather. Clear skies maximized the nearly endless days of mid-summer. Beautiful 11:00 p.m. sunsets were the norm, and even though I never saw a sunrise, I’ve been told most of them took place around 3:30 a.m.

4. We saw many gorgeous views, but I think the most spectacular was the archipelago of islands in and around Stockholm. The city of Stockholm is built on 14 separate islands, but the Stockholm harbor contains anywhere from 25-125 thousand islands according to various guidebooks. Some islands are no bigger than a large rock, many contain one or more summer cabins, and some hold an entire community. All manner of watercraft sail, motor, or paddle among the islands. The view from high on the cruise ship surveying the many settlements was the best!

5. The biggest surprise—stumbling upon a mid-morning mass in an Orthodox Church in Tallin, Estonia. We first heard the small choir in the balcony before we stepped into the sanctuary, and then we saw the golden chasubles worn by the priests, heard one of the priests chanting in a rich baritone voice in response to the choir, saw the doors open from the center of the icon-covered iconostasis to reveal another altar behind the screen accessible to the priests, and watched the worshippers as they received the Holy Communion. It was uncomfortable to be part of a group of tourists intruding upon the sacred mysteries of this congregation, but I was transfixed as a curious onlooker by the beauty of what I was seeing. Estonia is largely Lutheran, and the Orthodox congregations are a sign of the unwelcome Russian presence, but I was struck by the liveliness of this worship experience and would like to learn more.

6. The limits of a cruise. Our times in each port were very limited, and such brief stays are mere introductions to a country and its people. But brief visits are better than none at all, and paying attention momentarily to a new part of the world opens up some spaces in my life to want to learn more. So I will.

7. The joys of a cruise. They are many, and I needn’t bore readers with a lengthy list, but traveling with friends in a comfortable environment while visiting new places is a real treat. Traveling by air is no longer the thrill that it once was, but the cruise line industry makes it possible to enjoy travel in new ways.

So we’re in Copenhagen for a few days of rest and then off to Stockholm to become more ambitious tourists for another week.

Sunday in Venice--April 10, 2011

It's Sunday morning in Venice. Rose Ann, Phil & Carole are exploring a museum and I'm sitting quietly alone in the Venetian flat owned by the Gilbertson's university colleague from Stockton. I needed some down time, and it feels good to be here listening to the sounds of Venice. It's pretty quiet right now. During the weekday we hear lots of commercial boat traffic because this residence is located mere feet from a small canal that offers easy access for delivery people to park and unload their wares for the many small businesses in the neighborhood. I can hear church bells, a neighbor's radio, the lapping of small waves against the canal's boundary. Occasionally a gondolier navigates this canal and must be describing the neighborhood to his customers. The sun is shining brightly through the big windows on the tiny deck of our bedroom.
Since we arrived Wednesday morning the weather has been as close to perfect as imaginable. The temperature hovers around 70 during the day, and except for some occasional haze the sun is always shining. The nights are cool enough to snuggle under several blankets. Not a drop of rain yet. Venice is obviously filled with water, churches, and history. It's old, has been grand (still is to us), but according to the books it's decaying. Global warming raises the water level, and time wears away the structures of the city built centuries ago. Venice's origins date back to the 9th century when Romans fled from the barbarians seeking safety, and with careful planning the city was engineered around the waters of the Adriatic Sea and Po River. The city's main thoroughfare is the Grand Canal, and we can see it just a block from where we live. Gondolas, vaporettos, small boats and large, even cruise ships ride the waves to explore the area. There are islands surrounding Venice, and we have briefly explored three of them--Murano (full of glass factories), Burano (lace capital of Italy), and Torcello (home to only 20 people plus an amazing cathedral filled with mosaics).
The home we are in might be called a walkup flat. It's on the second floor of a three story building, and Phil's friend's mother lived here many years until her recent death. It's a two bedroom unit with a long hallway, and a living room, dining room, kitchen, laundry room, and two bathrooms also exit off the hallway. It's sunny and bright with many windows and filled with books and pictures. Her pictures of dogs and cats are heartwarming. The living room gets minimal use from us. We're either out in the city, sleeping, eating, or planning our next day's itinerary. There are no cars in Venice, so we walk from the house to get to a boat. The boat-busses are called vaporettos, and we are located between two vaporetto stops. We walk through a maze of dead-end alleys and major walkways. Some are barely three feet wide between three story buildings. Others are broad open campolos, usually a huge square in front of a neighborhood church. Business districts feature separate shops for bread, gelato (one of Italy's greatest contributions to the world of ice cream), clothing, and restaurants--many of the open air variety. Did you know about carneval in Italy? I didn't. Like New Orleans and Mardi Gras, the Italians--especially the Venetians--celebrate carneval beginning shortly after Christmas until Lent. They love to wear masks, so there are mask shops all around. The masks are made of cloth, plastic, plaster of paris, even glass.
The Rick Steves books serve us well, and even though the Gilbertsons arrived only a few days before us they serve as guides. Phil reads and studies, and he has a great sense of direction. We've walked miles and relived centuries of the city's history. This afternoon we'll see the palace established by the early doges who ruled the city-state of Venice. Then we'll travel to an outlying church that is hosting a Norwegian choir. On Friday night we went to an outdoor restaurant right on the canal in a beautiful location. Phil had called to reserve a table for 4 at 8:00 p.m., but our day's travels had extended longer than we planned allowing us no time to get back to our residence to rest and cleanup for dinner. So we showed up at 7:00, hungry and tired but an hour early. Phil approached the man who looked in charge of seating and began to ask if a table might be available early. We were shocked at his response. Evidently he saw our Rick Steves book and said in Italian accented English--"You must be Philippi Gilberti, and you have come here because Rick Steves recommended me. My name is in your book, and your table is ready for you right now." Thus began a wonderful evening with great food.
Venice is a great place to be if you appreciate history, church, beauty, and great food. And it helps to be in the company of great friends.

Friday, July 23--At Home

Whew! We arrived back at home yesterday (Thursday)about 2:00 p.m., and it feels good. The trip was wonderful, but exhausting. We crammed a lot of action into the last few days, and the flight home was predictably long and tedious, so last night's return to the familiar pillow and bed felt like a great relief.
Before heading for home we were able to visit our friend Jerker at his cabin on the island of Oland. We left Stockholm and the Gilbertsons early Sunday morning and rode a bus for five hours south to Kalmar where we crossed the long bridge to the narrow island and headed north for another hour to Sodvik where Jerker met us. Oland is more than a 100 miles long and only 10 miles wide, and is Sweden's hidden vacation treasure. Only 25,000 people live on the island, but ten times more than that vacation here. Sandy island beaches attract Swedes, Danes, Germans and all kinds of international guests looking for the bliss of warm (relatively) water and sunshine. Nature walks, historical ruins, lighthouses, woods, and fertile farmland together provide the island's guests with great views and options for activities. From Sunday evening through Tuesday morning we traveled the island from north to south to see the sights. Ancient stone walls and windmills remain in place to remind visitors of the island's past. Eketor, a reconstructed fortress with roots back to the 4th century, was a great place to see. At Borgholm we saw the King's summer residence, but he must have been at work back in the palace. On Tuesday morning we drove back to the mainland to visit two tourist areas in the state of Smaland--the glass manufacturing center (we toured through the factory at Kosta Boda) and the Immigrant's Center in Vaxjo. We even spent some time in the town of Ljuder, a village made famous by Swedish author Wilhelm Moberg. Moberg wrote an important series of books about the period of the mid-1840's to early 1900's when fully one fourth of Sweden's citizens left the country, most of them for the US, and the people he writes of in these historical novels left behind their homes and families in Ljuder.
Jerker has been such a good friend and tour guide for us, but we had to leave him to board the train in Vaxjo to get back to Stockholm to catch our early morning flight back home. On Wednesday we flew first to London where we waited three hours to catch our flight to Houston--a confusing destination, but it was the US airport closest to Seattle that our frequent flier miles could get us to. We arrived in Houston's heat and humidity at 7:00 p.m. and were sound asleep in our hotel by 8:30. On Thursday we arrived in Seattle and were welcomed by 56 degree, cloudy weather, and it felt good. We enjoyed so much Swedish sunshine for so many days that it was ok to feel cool weather again. In our motel in Houston we had fallen asleep so quickly because we no longer had Northern Europe's midnight sun lightening the windows. 30 days of almost no darkness can be disorienting to those of us who know the Pacific Northwest's rainy, dark winters.
We are at home safe and sound and healthy after more than 30 days away and thankful for the opportunity to travel. The Swedish saying on the front of our house says it well--"Away is good; home is best." Our trip enabled us to celebrate a traditional Swedish Midsummer with Swedish friends in a small community--a great privilege. We were able to enjoy a cruise with friends we have known for more than 40 years, and with them we visited new, exciting locations in Russia, Estonia, and Poland. And we enjoyed more time with them staying in the exchange homes they arranged for in Copenhagen and Stockholm. In good company we have explored and learned about the world we live in. And we are thankful.

Saturday in Stockholm

Saturday morning—July 17
Stockholm

We have been very ambitious tourists in Sweden. We arrived here last Wednesday about midday on a brief flight from Copenhagen and rode a taxi for 35 minutes to the Gilbertson’s exchange home in the northern suburb of Spanga—that’s “Spong-a”, but I can’t write the little dot above the first “a” to indicate its sound. We spent Wednesday orienting ourselves to the nice home, a newer three bedroom residence with lots of windows. The windows are handy because the weather has been beautiful but warm, and we have appreciated any available breeze, especially at night. The home comes complete with a newer Volvo that is air-conditioned and with a GPS that speaks English. With the Copenhagen home the car’s GPS spoke only Danish, and we eventually learned the words for “right” and “left”, fortunately. It is a bit intimidating to begin driving a nice new car where you are totally unfamiliar with the surroundings and completely dependent on a soft but strange feminine voice to guide you to the grocery store. Phil handles it well and courageously, and the rest of us offer him lots of friendly advice.
On Thursday we drove three hours north of here to a small town named Sundborn to view the home of the famous Swedish artist Carl Larsson. Both Rose Ann and Carole have been big fans of his paintings for years, and since Phil is studying Swedish art this place was a high priority on our list of destinations. The drive was pleasant, and the day was sunny and not too hot, and we enjoyed about three hours at the Larsson home. Larsson lived from 1853-1919, and he and his wife raised 8 children in this home. He managed to make a living as an artist, and most all of his popular paintings feature his family and his home. It’s still possible to recognize his home and yard in his paintings. After the deaths of their parents the Larsson children chose to maintain the home as a place for Swedes and others to come to and appreciate their father’s work. In fact, a cute little girl—maybe 4 years old—was holding a tray to give out crackers with jam, and I was told she is Larsson’s great, great granddaughter who lives nearby. There is a pleasant restaurant serving traditional Swedish food on the grounds, and there are tour guides and a shop, but it certainly doesn’t feel like a tourist trap. About a half mile down the road is a church where in his later years Larsson did some decorative painting, so we walked there also. I’m sure the town doesn’t number more than 500 people, and it is filled with red-painted homes with white trim and features a tranquil river flowing through it. We made a whole day of the journey with 6 hours of driving and three hours of soaking up Larsson’s story and his art.
On Friday we left the home early to take a train into Stockholm’s Central Station, only a 10 minute ride, and walked about 10 blocks to the harbor where we boarded a ferry to tour the archipelago. Northern Minnesota’s boundary waters and Washington’s San Juan Islands would be in the same category as this area around Stockholm—lots of islands begging to be explored. The Swedes love this country, and many of them maintain summer homes or rustic cabins on islands that might hold only one home or bigger islands that resemble a town. The ferries were full of day-trippers and residents either going home or into the city for supplies. We didn’t run into many other out of country tourists. On the 3 hour ride outbound we enjoyed a leisurely fine lunch served in the dining room. We stopped at several islands to hike around and explore, and finally we spent some time in the clear, cold water. I even took a half hour nap in the shade. Returning to Stockholm we leisurely walked through the city to the train. It was our most ambitious touring day, and we returned home 12 hours after we had left.
Today is our last day here, so we are resting. We’ll take a brief trip into the city to pick up our bus tickets for tomorrow’s journey to Oland (pronounced Ooo-lan) a long, narrow island about 150 miles south of here. The bus eventually boards a ferry for an hour and a half to take us to a town close to where our friend Jerker has a summer cabin. We’ll join him and his wife for two nights there followed by a day of tourist travel before going to a Stockholm hotel the night before we fly home.
We have found great delight in what Swedes love—great natural beauty in ocean, lakes, and trees; long days filled with sunlight and cool breezes; simple food and drink; and abundant time with great friends.

The Truth About A Cruise

The Truth About A Cruise
(I wrote this half-way through the cruise and neglected to put it into the blog. It's now included as an after thought.)
I didn’t think I would enjoy a cruise. Four years ago this week I reluctantly boarded a cruise ship in Seattle bound for a week’s journey through Alaska’s inside passage, I imagined cruising to be an experience of being cooped up, too crowded, with too many people. I’ve been seasick before, so I assumed the very worst about my own intestinal tract plus that of two thousand other people I didn’t know. And I assumed all of those others were obnoxious rich people while neglecting the important fact that even though I’m surely not rich, I also paid my fare to board the vessel. This will not be fun, I thought. I was surprised to discover I had a good time.
What was it? What’s so fun about a cruise? Five days before that first cruise I entered the hallowed halls of retirement, and I was beginning a phase of life characterized by a new sense of euphoria. I had a hard time wiping the grin off my face. I was free to discover the hidden pleasures of evenings and weekends with no schedule, and I probably would have been just as happy at home, but I was very happy on the cruise. Something more than retirement was fueling my joy.
Was it the exotic destinations of the journey? Skagaway, Ketchikan, Juneau—they didn’t sound that exotic. I knew of them before, and they weren’t big cities radiating mystery. Rain-drenched fishing villages in the wilderness—that’s what they were. Still, I was thankful to see them and stroll through them. We weren’t skillful in the means of cruising yet, so we hadn’t planned or pre-paid for the various activities we could pursue in each stop, so we were content to stroll, eat, and buy a souvenir or two. Also, we were tight and reluctant to part with $500 for a day of dog-sledding or hovering over a glacier in a helicopter. It was enough of a jolt to see the $40 tab for a plate of fresh king crab and corn on the cob in one of Skagway’s greasy spoon restaurants.
Was the joy in the evening entertainment? Last night we witnessed 45 minutes of non-stop, high energy music and dancing performed by 18 young, beautiful women and men. Next stop on the evening’s stroll? A magician—good and funny. Next? A bar with a Scottish piano player/singer with a sharp wit, great voice, and nimble fingers. He handled a difficult crowd with the mastery of an old veteran.
Surely the destinations matter, and the entertainment counts. But it’s the food! Let me admit it. 10 evenings in a row when someone else makes up the menu, buys the groceries, fixes the food and cleans up. Kindly servers offer a chair, place the napkin on my lap and the menu in my hands, invite my choices by offering suggestions, and then they graciously serve me whatever I want. And it’s good. Better than good. At last night’s dinner the 4 differing meals chosen by our company included turkey pot pie, crayfish etoufee, roasted duck, and frog legs. Try that at home! And they clean up when we leave!
Lest I be too crass about bread alone, the company counts. We’ve cruised with family and friends, and the evening meal in good company after a day of a busy tourist’s schedule or the leisure of solitude is the best way to conclude a day. The destinations this time are exotic—Stockholm, Helsinki, St. Petersburg. That’s just half the journey. The entertainment is great. But the real treat is the evening meal. The food is wonderful. And the day reaches its apex on a cloth-covered table in the company of friends we have known for 45 years. The conversation is rich with memory and hope. We drink a thankful toast and eat to our satisfaction, and there is no check, no argument about who picks up the tab, no calculating of tip. We even pretend it’s all free.

Tallin/Gdansk


Friday, July 9
A free day at sea. It feels good to have not hurried off to a day of hiking through a new city. We've walked a lot through blocks of cobble-stoned streets in new and exotic sounding locations. Helsinki was unique, St. Petersburg was the highlight, and during the past two days we have skimmed the surface of Tallin, Estonia and Gdansk, Poland. These cities in Europe bring home the facts of our good fortune to live in a country that has not had a world war fought on its soil. These cities and nations have suffered in unimaginable ways. The Russians lost millions of lives during their own revolution and in both world wars, but they helped to destroy the countries of Estonia and Poland after the second world war. Estonia was one of the three Baltic states (others were Latvia and Lithuania) which became familiar to Lutherans because Lutheran World Relief helped sponsor many refugees from these three countries. The Russians took over the Baltic states, and many of their citizens escaped to seek asylum. Our neighbors in Staples, Minnesota were "Displaced Persons" (they were referred to as DPs) and several of my teachers at Luther Seminary also were in that category and were assisted by Lutheran congregations. In 1994 with the demise of the Soviet Union new life has begun to emerge in Estonia. A tourist industry catering to cruise boats like the one we're on has brought an influx of money to both Estonia and Poland, but their infrastructure is not quite up to the challenges they've had to face. And the worldwide economic downturn is hurting both places. Poland was invaded by the Germans as a start to the second world war and destroyed by the Russians at the close of the war. They experienced Russia's heavy handed rule until the 1980's when the Solidarity Movement began among the shipyard workers of Gdansk (then known as Danzig) with Lech Walecza as the leader. This relatively peaceful revolution led to Russia's withdrawal, but it takes a long time for a country to establish a new foundation. Our Polish guide said it will take several generations for people to trust a free-market based economy. Walecza was a successful president, and is now retired and traveling the world to tell the story of Poland. Estonia and Poland are emerging with long histories including days of greatness in their past, but they are striving hard to find their new place in today's world.
Our cruise is moving rapidly towards its conclusion. We have had wonderful weather all the time. We had rain one night, but every day has been mostly sunny with comfortable temperatures. The heavy clothes we packed have been left at the bottom of the suitcase, and I wished I had packed more shorts. Tomorrow we dock at Oslo for a short day of touring, and bright and early on Sunday morning we'll be in Copenhagen's port and return to the Gilbertson's exchange home in the north suburbs for three days before moving on to Stockholm. We are so fortunate to experience this time with good friends exploring parts of the world that are new to us.

St. Petersburg, Russia

We’ve moved two time zones away from Sweden and lost two hours the past two days. Yesterday’s sun hadn’t set by the time we returned to the ship at 11:15 p.m. after a full day, and this morning’s sun was supposed to rise by 4:15 a.m. I wouldn’t know because I just awakened around 9:00 a.m. and haven’t set foot outside our “stateroom” yet. (Although, this is a perfectly fine room, it doesn’t really qualify for “stateroom” status, but that’s what it’s called.)
I fulfilled a long-time dream yesterday by simply standing in the presence of a painting. St. Petersburg is the home of one of the world’s largest and finest art collections—a tribute to Peter the Great, namesake of the city. The collection is located in a series of buildings collectively known as The Hermitage, and located on one of the walls on one of the floors is Rembrandt’s painting known as “The Prodigal”. My fulfilled dream is multi-layered beginning with Jesus’ parable most commonly called “The Prodigal Son”. Jesus told a story, Luke (the gospel writer) remembered and wrote about it, the church in its infinite wisdom kept the story in its eternal collection, a Dutch painter in the 17th century painted an image of the story, and a 20th century Belgian priest named Henri Nouwen wrote about Rembrandt’s painting in the 1980’s in a book he titled The Return of the Prodigal Son. Nouwen, a priest and psychologist, was most helpful to me with his ability to translate the vocabulary of psychology into language descriptive of the human soul, and I first read some his material in 1974.
I read Nouwen’s book about the prodigal and was initially drawn deeply enough into its content that I preached a series of sermons on it in both Wenatchee and Olympia, and just before retirement I re-read it and discovered even more meaning. Like many before me I’ve been drawn deeply into Jesus’ story by its familial context, and with Rembrandt’s painting and Nouwen’s writing I see a special gift we elders can offer to succeeding generations—our blessing.
Ever since I saw the ad for a Baltic Cruise that included St. Petersburg in its itinerary, I was eager to see the painting Nouwen viewed and contemplated for hours prior to writing his book. So when my moment came yesterday, I was content to simply look, utter my quiet prayer of gratitude, have my picture taken, and move on. The anticipation was far greater than the moment, diminished slightly by the bustle of other viewers and lighting that caused some glare, but it’s still amazing that this dream to simply be in the presence of greatness is now fulfilled.
Peter the Great, back in the 1700’s, dreamed that this would be a great city, and indeed it is. It’s a center for the arts, Russia’s second largest city, a large port, and it draws cruise ships and tourists from around the world. It was hot yesterday, 85 degrees, and the locals were peeling off clothes to soak up sun wherever they could. We tourists were sweating through bus tours, art walks, and evening ballet but getting our money’s worth and enjoying it. Today’s a new day, and we get to go back to the Hermitage one more time before a 6:00 p.m. departure for Tallin tomorrow and Gdansk the next day. What a life!