Although I thoroughly enjoyed every port we visited on our cruise, a few stood out from the others. Taormina, on Sicily, was one of those. Our ship actually docked in Catania, Sicily’s second-largest port, so my day trip to Taormina required an hour-long bus ride up the coast, skirting Mt. Etna on the way as we drove through miles of lemon and orange groves. As we left the port we could see steam rising high into the sky above the volcano, which has erupted eight times in the last 30 years. There was still a bit of snow on the highest reaches of the mountain (skiers traverse the slopes in the winter), but today would prove to be quite warm and humid here below.

Taormina actually sits some 600 feet above sea level (out of the reach of ancient invaders), with gorgeous views of the sea, coast and Mt. Etna afforded from several of the piazzas in town. Upon arrival I strolled down the main shopping street (I so enjoyed the many opportunities on this trip to venture about on vehicle-free avenues!) toward the Greco-Roman theater. The later Roman structure was built atop the 3rd-century B.C. Greek original, and its excellent acoustics still lend themselves to summer concerts and performances on the site today.  The views of Etna, framed in the arches of the facade at the bottom of the amphitheatre, were worth the climb in the rising heat.

I managed to bypass most of the souvenir shops selling porcelain goods but found my way through back streets quite by accident to a large old house decorated with beautifully detailed tiles of local saints and Roman gods and mythological figures. Here again, as I found in Corfu, Dubrovnik and Venice, were delicately ornate wrought-iron balconies festooned with flower boxes and vines covered in bright blossoms. Many also featured bird cages holding tiny songbirds that filled the air with their chirping, somehow making the air feel cooler with their liquid notes. I enjoyed whiling away an hour or more just wandering up and down the quieter side alleys, catching glimpses of mundane everyday life and views of the sea set in centuries-old archways. Soon enough it was time to reboard the motor coach and return to Catania and the ship, but that sense of drowsy peace I  experienced in Taormina stayed with me.

Later that night, as the Oosterdam made its way north along the west coast of Italy towards Naples, we passed Stromboli Volcano. We lined up along the rail of the topmost deck, straining our eyes through the warm, heavy dark in the direction other passengers told us they had seen a glow. Just as we decided we had missed out on the show, a bright rocket of orange burst high into the night, followed by explosions of sparks and a stream of lava flowing downwards. It subsided after just a few minutes, but twice more after a lull of several minutes the mountain rewarded our patience with another fiery outburst. It made for a thrilling, awesome end to a truly delightful day.

–Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

We are nearly at the end of our 12-day Mediterranean cruise aboard Holland America Line’s ms Oosterdam, and I have to say that although I have missed my husband and regular communication with our daughters, I could really grow attached to living like this. I mentioned a few weeks ago that because of overbooking in certain categories, HAL asked if the four of us sailing together would be willing to give up our two verandah staterooms for one deluxe verandah suite. Hmmm, let me think for a second . . . okay!!! Yes, we had to use the sofa bed and a roll-away, but we gained so much more!

First, our living space is ridiculously spacious. The verandah boasts two tables, four chairs and two ottomans on the seventh (of ten) decks. The weather throughout the cruise so far has been unseasonably warm with little wind, so we’ve spent plenty of time out there. Inside we have lots of closets, drawers and cabinets to accommodate what we brought and what we’ve bought. A long sofa and three armchairs offer comfortable seating for checking out movies on the flat-screen TV or sharing the day’s events (and purchases). The bathroom features a tub with shower plus a separate shower and a dual-sink vanity; and there are plenty of thick, soft towels (including one each evening that the cabin stewards fold, origami-like, into the most clever and charming critters!) and Elemis Aromapure bath products. Such an arrangement allows us plenty of room to get ready in the morning for our excursions or primp before dinner without having to develop a complicated schedule.

A huge plus for us has been the free dry-cleaning and laundry service, and we’ve also enjoyed access to the Neptune Lounge, offering amazingly patient and helpful concierges and luscious snacks and canapés throughout the day. These and other thoughtful little perks (like the Bushnell binoculars in our room) have added a level of pleasure and refinement to what would have been a delightful interlude anyway.

One aspect of our cruise that we have enjoyed the most is one that is available to every guest here: the warm, thoughtful and welcoming service and attention every member of the crew offers. Arriving for dinner, we are greeted by our stewards who inquire about our day and share stories of their homes and families as we share ours. Later, they graciously wish us a good rest and a wonderful day on the morrow. Our cabin stewards respond to requests for everything from extra laundry bags to a suggestion for an onshore Internet café quickly and with a smile. It is the kind of pampering and attention that all of us—most of whom are wives and mothers on top of our day jobs—just don’t get in the “real” world.

So, yes, having someone else doing the laundry, cooking and cleaning up while I’m treated like royalty is definitely a lifestyle I could get used to!

-Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

One of my sisters-in-law, my two sisters and I are preparing for a really exciting trip: a 12-day cruise in the Mediterranean on Holland America Line’s ms Oosterdam. A lot of cruise lines and other travel-related businesses are offering some very attractive discounted fares to try to make up for cancellations and bookings that have evaporated this year. We decided that we would do our part to stimulate the economy, both here and abroad, and are currently in the thick of deciding where we want to go and what we want to see in our various ports of call.

These days when it seems that even the corner espresso stand has its own web site, there is no end to the sources one can tap into to learn about a new destination. As anyone who has surfed the Web for even a short time can tell you, that is both a blessing and a curse. Googling a place name will bring up everything from a municipality’s official tourism board or chamber of commerce to a 12-year-old’s photos of her spring vacation trip . . . and one always needs to take the information in either kind of site with a sizable grain of salt. We began with a visit to the cruise line’s web site, where one can take a virtual tour of the ship, click on deck plans to see precisely where one’s stateroom is located, and review and book shore excursions out of each port. Sifting through all of that information takes time and has involved lots of discussion amongst we cruisers.

I recall that readers in April’s issue of Global Traveler (Mail Call) offered their thoughts on the pluses and minuses of taking organized tours when visiting a new city. Some said they preferred a guided tour to get an overview of a place, some said it depended on the locale, and others said they liked to explore and discover on their own or with a group of friends. With that in mind, and keeping an eye on the price tag for those professional tours (family discounts don’t extend to shore excusions!), we sisters have decided to take the flexible approach. At the beginning and end of our journey (Venice and Barcelona) we’ve got an overnight on the ship and have also budgeted an extra day or two beyond, so we’ve decided we’ll have the time to explore each city on our own. A few of the ports (Dubrovnik, Corfu, Santorini, Argostoli) have been visited previously by at least one of us and/or is relatively confined. We look forward to hiring a cab or renting Vespas or mopeds and putzing about. Some ports are actually at some distance from the major attractions (Rome, Naples, Livorno, Sicily), so we have chosen to take advantage of guided tours, most of which provide us with some unstructured time for shopping, dining or just pausing to absorb our surroundings.

We continue to read travel guides, fiction and nonfiction books set in the region, and all manner of print and online travel articles. Our most valued sources, however, are personal testimonials from those who have “been there, done that.” Whether it’s from a friend of a friend or a work colleague we’ve only “met” via email or even a stranger with whom we strike up a conversation at the coffee shop, these recommendations have the cachet of immediacy and authenticity a more anonymous source lacks. As far as I’m concerned, a response to a blog such as this falls into the more personal category. That is my totally unsubtle way of saying that I would warmly welcome insights from anyone reading this who has traveled in the places we’ll be visiting. Please feel free to share an amazing viewpoint, the name of a favorite cafe, an easily overlooked garden or quiet backstreet. I can assure you there will be four middle-aged but adventurous ladies who will be deeply grateful for your advice!

Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

My dad likes to say, “We get so soon old and so late smart.” He often accompanies it with a wry shake of the head, acknowledging that through a lot of living and a few hard knocks, he figured out something that he should have learned a long time ago. I’ve had my share of those moments, usually when I realize my stubborn insistence on pursuing a particular goal in a particular way — even when it has proven less than satisfactory in the past — has once again resulted in the same not-so-pleasant outcome.

Such is the case when I have traveled to a new city or visited a large exhibition or museum. There is nearly always some time constraint which any reasonable person would realize leaves me with less time than I really need to see or do everything that I would like. I forge ahead undaunted, however, determined that I certainly will get to all the major sights of the town or every hall in the building. You experienced travelers (and quick learners) already know that in that direction lie folly, exhaustion and sore feet. Oh, I don’t mean to say that I don’t recall those unpleasant aspects of my blitz attacks and at least go in to a new situation with good intentions of not repeating the same mistakes. But, like the proverbial kid in the candy store, once I’m in the middle of a fascinating new place or confronted with a whole gallery of Old Masters, I have a hard time reining in my desire to take it all in in whatever time I have.

My visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City two weeks ago provided me with a fresh opportunity to put into effect the lessons learned in the past — or revert to my old bad habits. I am happy to report that, for the most part, I exercised enormous restraint and, as a result, enjoyed a really lovely four hours there. Did I see EVERYTHING? No, I never even ventured beyond the main floor.  Though I sometimes felt the presence of all those treasures in the upper reaches almost physically weighing down on me, clamoring for me to come seek them out, I resisted that impulse. Instead, I strolled and sat, paused and took in both minute details and the bigger view, interspersed with people-watching fellow art lovers. Instead of deciding in advance that I needed to get to a certain number of galleries, I just decided to allow a reasonable pace and our departure time to determine what and how much I took in. In doing so, I could really relish what I DID see, and in keeping at bay the greedy thoughts of what else there was to see, I also avoided frustration, exhaustion and sensory overload.

I like to think of my trip to New York and my more relaxed approach there as a trial run for a more extensive sojourn coming up in May.  My sisters and I are taking a 12-day cruise from Venice to Barcelona, with a tantalizing lineup of ports in between. While we swap emails back and forth, throwing out suggestions for shore excursions and sites we’d like to visit, I keep reminding myself that less is truly more. Rather than tearing around each city trying to take it all in (and thereby barely absorbing anything), I am determined to leave time for savoring a drink at a sidewalk cafe, strolling narrow lanes and chatting with shopkeepers.

Wish me luck! Hopefully my newfound wisdom will stick with me.

Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

Yesterday, GT’s Kim Krol blogged about some of the places she dreams of visiting, and she mentioned that she has always wanted to visit Greece. Although my world travels have been somewhat limited compared to some of my globetrotting GT colleagues, I can say I have been blessed with the opportunity to visit that beautiful land. You might understandably think, because of my last name, that it came about through connections with my husband’s side of the family. He has visited there twice, but both times before we were married and neither time with me. No, my exposure came on a cruise enjoyed with my two sisters back in 2000, when we visited Athens and then a number of island ports on our way to Istanbul.

One can’t visit an ancient country like Greece and not be overwhelmed by the history of the place. I remember climbing up the Acropolis in Athens, crossing stone and marble polished by time and millions of footsteps and marveling that I was walking where some of the most amazing figures of Western Civilization had trod. And the scale of the Parthenon and the other temples and structures there! No image — not even fancy 3-D graphics – can give you the same sense of its grandeur as will simply standing in the midst of it all.

So many of my memories of my Greek travels are on a smaller scale, but they are no less full of strong and delightful sensory images. On Santorini I revelled not only in those famous views of whitewashed, tile-roofed buildings clinging to the edge of the caldera over a shimmering blue sea, but also in the intricately patterned streets paved in black and white pebbles. On Crete we visited the Palace of King Minos at Knossos. I have vague recollections of that site, but I distinctly recall our trek through the local market stalls, picking out grapes and peaches and savoring local cheeses and olives. On Rhodes we skipped shopping and the usual sightseeing and opted for a few quiet hours on a deserted beach, enjoying the lapping waves and warm sun.

Some of my favorite experiences occurred on the island of Patmos, an unplanned stop on our itinerary when high winds and rough seas kept our ship from visiting Ephesus in Turkey. At first I was hugely disappointed because I very much wanted to explore the history and famous ruins at Ephesus, but Patmos turned out to be a peaceful, enchanting oasis. Well known as the place where St. John wrote the Book of Revelation, it is nevertheless a small island that doesn’t seem to be overrun by tourists. I strolled paths lined with ancient rock walls and shaded by olive trees, amazed to see enormous geranium plants the size of large shrubs and covered with brilliant red blooms. I stopped in to light a candle for my husband’s grandmother (Ya Ya) at one of the literally dozens of tiny chapels and churches scattered all over the island. Its foot-thick walls encased a space that would perhaps hold eight worshippers, but the feeling of serenity and eternity there was as palpable as any I’d felt in a grand cathedral.

Of course, as all you travelers out there know, the best part of going to new destinations is meeting the people there, and the Greek people are warm and generous. We were welcomed to a sidewalk cafe in the Plaka in Athens by the proprietor. While he freely brought plates of olives and cheese to our table (”You must try these!”), he told us of his time in Chicago and his business there. In a jewelry shop in Heraklion on Crete I expressed an interest in how some of the pieces were made. The owner ushered me upstairs to a tiny workshop to see how beads of silver were spun out into thin threads and then coiled to become intricately designed bracelets . . . I bought three.

This spring I will return to Greece, and I’m already anticipating the warmth of both the climate and her citizens. I know, Kim, when you get there, Greece will not disappoint.

 Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader