It’s a a pretty cushy way to travel, I have to say. For all the traveling we have done in our 32 years of marriage, not to mention our respective college European travels, this is only our second cruise. And as I sit in my deck chair in the warm sun, with the sea breezes to keep me comfortable as we sail, I must admit it has its appeal.

My room is not far away. And I haven’t had to pack and unpack in nearly a week. We treated ourselves pretty well when we booked our room this time, moving up several levels into prime territory. Cruise ships have gotten smart, providing private balconies for nearly all the upper level rooms. It was a tempting option, but instead we opted for a room without – primarily to secure a more stable position smack in the middle of the ship. I was most thankful for that choice when our ship was rocking and rolling on our first day out of port. And with so many outdoor areas for lounging, we rather prefer our enlarged indoor sitting area and huge windows right over the water.

In fact, that position gives us an up close view of some nautical action. We are situated directly above the ship’s gangway, the same entrance used by local pilots who are required to maneuver the ship in and out of port. They are delivered to and from the ship on a small boat and we just happened to see such a rendezvous after departing Venice. We were fascinated to watch the pilot boat sidle up alongside us, match our speed and then duck under the curve of ship to collect the pilot. When it pulled away, there was the pilot climbing down the ladder over the small bow of the boat. Once we knew we had this front row seat, we watched similar performances at other ports.

It is impossible to go hungry on a cruise ship. With all the food offerings, it could be a continual feast but instead we restrain ourselves so as to finish the trip the same size we started. A hearty breakfast gets us through the day and we look forward to the elegant dinner that awaits in the main dining room. We are assigned to a table of 10, which feels unwieldy at first. But with each couple hailing from a different country, lively conversations result and we enjoy our new dining friends.

At first I bristled at the idea of two formal nights. What a hassle, I thought, having to add two fancy outfits and all the accessories to my already overstuffed suitcase. But when the time comes, I not only relent but relish the opportunity to dress up a bit and celebrate. Naturally, the ship wants to sell us overpriced photographs to commemorate the evening. Instead, we opt for our own more unique do-it-yourself shot that Rich rigged up on deck. Not bad!

We round out the evening with the nightly show. The headliner acts are very good, bringing in amazing acrobats, humorous string musicians, and mind boggling magicians. These are supplemented by staff musicians and dancers who keep us entertained. They even take to the air with aerial acts in the tall Centrum space. Late night people that we are (not!), we don’t last much beyond this show. After all, tomorrow is another day, a new destination and a deck chair awaiting.

I think we are getting the hang of this cruising thing.

Pure white buildings. Perched atop volcanic rock, far above the deep blue sea. Starkly contrasting with the classic cloudless blue sky. Santorini looks just like the Greek tourism photos.

We’re first off the ship, in the tender that takes us to shore before 7am. The sun has not yet risen above the mountainous terrain, and the island towns twinkle with lights high above us as we move across the water through the semi-darkness. By the time we reach the town of Oia, we have absorbed our first lessons about the island from the local tour guide. And the sun has climbed to its golden hour, bathing the town in its morning glow. We are left on our own to explore.

There are major advantages to being early birds. The town is still quiet. It’s pedestrian-only streets are sparsely populated. Shopkeepers are just taking down their shutters and setting out their wares. We see the town as it wakes.

Walking the narrow passageways reveals new sights with each turn. Soon we are traversing the edge of the cliff face, which affords unobstructed views of the town as it clings to the mountain top and slides down its side. It is a maze of buildings all interconnected at multiple levels, each vying for the ocean view. The longer I look, the more I see. There is infinite detail among this pattern of structures.

All along our route are secluded lodgings and outdoor restaurants offering spectacular views. I imagine myself nestled in one of these guest rooms. I could easily be convinced to spend a week here. Exploring these walkways. Finding a niche to read a good book. Basking in the sunlight. Searching out swimming spots. Trying a new restaurant each night. Sampling the wonderful Greek dishes. I am reluctant to leave when we must move on to Fira.

Our cruise ship pointing toward Oia

This is the largest town on the island, and is already crowded with tourists. Its beauty is similar to Oia, and we stroll its narrow passages. But the spell has been broken. It’s more commercial. The shopping areas are teeming with cruise ship passengers, now that three additional ships have joined ours in the harbor. Already I miss the peace we found in Oia.

Our return to the ship delivers a final, unexpected twist. Shunning the cable car for its long queue, we opt for the steep cobbled path that zigzags its way down the mountainside to the old harbor below. It’s surface is uneven and slippery at times, but the real challenge is dodging the donkeys. Unpredictable at best, they are equally undisciplined whether being ridden up or returning unaccompanied to the bottom. The trip is unique, to say the least.

We are thankful for being early risers. It gave us the best of Santorini. The island still looks idyllic from the deck of our ship. Its white buildings like frosting atop the dark volcanic rock. It is spectacular.

This is a first for both of us. Neither Rich nor I have been to Turkey before. For that reason we choose a tour that includes multiple locations, so that we can see something of the countryside. While all of our pictures reflect the ancient ruins that we visited, it will be the space in between that we remember best.

We have an excellent local tour guide. He feeds us just enough information about his country to help us interpret what we see, understand something of their local customs, and appreciate his culture and history. Visiting three different sites we start with a large open-air amphitheater at Milletus, seating 15,000 people. What is most impressive is the perfect acoustics, only achievable from one very specific spot on the stage.

The Temple of Apollo at Didyma is fascinating for its story. Our guide informs us that it was an unachievable feat. It could never have been finished, given its impossible dimensions. Yet the grand vision is apparent and there is great detail in its components.

The main attraction of the area is Ephesus. A whole city has been discovered and is in a state of continual restoration. It is impressive for being so extensive. We walk on marble streets and take in the collection of structures on either side. The facade of the library towers above us.

On the tour bus we pass through towns. We don’t see individual houses. Instead there are multiple dwelling units, all in pastel colored stucco. Many appear rundown, but I suspect we do not appreciate the local standards. Someone asks about the barrels on top of nearly every building. They are water heaters, our guide explains. We hadn’t even noticed the attached solar panels which heat the water in the top barrel to near boiling, then it drains into the barrel below. Highly efficient, it is a cheap way to deliver hot water to the residents. After that, we couldn’t miss seeing them everywhere.

Men sit at tables in outdoor cafes. Fields with animals are as likely in town as in the country. We learn to identify olive trees which are abundant. The terrain is rough, with hills and mountains in the background. It feels foreign and holds a rich history.

A buffet lunch enables us to sample the local dishes. Fresh salads, well spiced lamb, cheesy puff pastries and rice dishes are all tasty. Desserts are rich and moist, dripping with honey. I appreciate this opportunity even knowing it caters to the cruise ship tourists.

We finish our tour in the port town of Katakolon. We are deposited at the Bazaar and led into a carpet shop for a demonstration on how their local rugs are made. Our guide has already explained that Turkey is in danger of losing the craft of hand weaving, as young people no longer learn it from their elders. So the government has developed local weaving centers and subsidizes the instruction of young women in this technique.

Our carpet store has been in the same family for five generations. The owners are proud of their product and proceed to show us their wares. But first we are all served a drink. I opt for tea, but Rich is more adventurous and accepts a glass of Raki, the national (and very strong) alcoholic drink. They roll out carpet after carpet for us, young men flicking them open with a flair. We learn the differences between wool, cotton and silk, and blends of each. Soon it is easy to see how the designs get more intricate the finer the materials. And we are impressed. They demonstrate how the colors change depending on the direction of the rug. And we are amazed.

Even though we are not in the market for a rug, their sales techniques are very effective. Until we discover the prices. We need only listen in on the inquiries of others to learn how high a price these hand made rugs command. It is not really a surprise, having learned that even the smallest rugs takes nine months of double-knotting each individual strand. We just really hadn’t appreciated their true value before. Which makes it even easier to leave without one. But we truly enjoy the education.

Not quite ready to leave the Bazaar, we walk the halls past various stalls. I can’t resist a stand with scarves, and soon find myself being fawned over by the eager salesman. Like all the shopkeepers, he is most persuasive and offers end-of-season bargains. I figure I can’t go too wrong with a scarf for five Euros. Even if it turns out not to be genuine Pashmina, I only care that it is something I like. He demonstrates several scarf styles with it on me and hopes I will choose multiple bargain rate scarves, but I leave with only one. Not to be deterred, he carries my scarf to another shop where his friend can sell us beautiful leather jackets. It doesn’t work, and I leave with my single scarf. The experience is worth the price.

One short day in Turkey is hardly enough to appreciate the country and its people. But that’s the nature of a cruise. It can only ever be a glimpse at each day’s destination. A tease to let us know we’d like to return for more. Today we are happy to have a taste of Turkey.

We had good advice. Walk the walls of the Old City, our son Carl advised us. He should know. He and his bride Chelsea just spent a week in Dubronik on their honeymoon.

We enter the Old City at the Pile Gate and immediately mount the steps to the top of the wall. We are not alone. Plenty of other tourists seek the same experience. Unlike Carl and Chelsea, we cannot wait for the cruise passengers to depart. That’s us. But it does not feel crowded.

Built between the 13th and 17th centuries, these walls surround the entire old city. At 3-19 feet thick and a distance well over a mile, it makes for an impressive sight. Stretching out toward the sea, we eagerly begin our sojourn.

For once, we feel no hurry. I welcome Rich’s passion for photography, as it affords me lengthy pauses to linger, take in the views, feel the sense of history and appreciate the beauty. I snap a few pictures and leave it to him to capture it more artistically.

On one side of us the Adriatic Sea. There the waves crash dramatically onto shore, far below Fort Lovrijenac opposite the city walls. We love water, so naturally we take our time along this portion of the walls.

Inside the walls, a sea of red roofs. Old and restored buildings all topped by red pipe tile roofs, separated only by narrow lanes. Cats wander here and there, much to the amusement of visitors. I remind myself to look more closely. To take in the details that are lost in the large overview.

We pass the old harbor and continue to the final stretch of the walls. Here we see life outside the old city, as it climbs the mountainside. Although reluctant to complete our circle tour, we have yet to wend our way through the streets below.

While the main arteries through the old city are lined with busy shops, we quickly find pleasure in the narrow side streets. There we discover steep stairs wedged tightly between buildings, adorned with greenery. These lead to a long passageway lined with tables. Ambling along, the tables assemble themselves into groups, each belonging to a different restaurant on this small pedestrian byway. It is lunch time and tantalizing smells emanate from each eatery. I steal glances at the appetizing dishes being served, vicariously enjoying their meals. I can just see Carl and Chelsea here in the evenings. Selecting a new venue each evening. Sampling the variety of Croatian offerings over time. Yes, this would be a wonderful place to honeymoon.

Thankful for the tip, we feel we have seen the best of Dubrovnik. It has been a delight to walk in Carl and Chelsea’s footsteps, on the walls of Dubrovnik.

Through the miracles of modern air travel, Rich and I rendezvous in Venice, Italy. He arrives from home in Duluth, and I from England after visiting friends. Voila, there he is when I exit customs, just as planned. We about to embark on our latest travel adventure. This one does not involve bikes. Instead we are leaving the transport to a cruise ship. But first we take in a bit of Venice.

To reach the Marine Terminal, we choose to go by water on the vaporetti. It turns out to be a long and circuitous route, traveling the perimeter of the main island of Venice with numerous stops there and on the surrounding islands. Low to the water, with spray frequently hitting the windows of our vessel, the view is wet but fascinating. We soon realize that there are specific travel lanes for boat traffic, which are not always the most direct route. And boats seem to have designated priorities. Our has to slow down each time a smaller water taxi goes by, which is frequently. The water is turbulent, churning with the wakes of the heavy boat traffic. The trip takes almost two hours, but the views continue to get better as we circle the center of Venice.

Check-in at Royal Caribbean turns out to be painless, and we happily surrender our heavy suitcases to their care. That leaves us four hours to wander in Venice. The natural destination is St. Mark’s Square, and we set out to cross the city. There are plenty of other tourists doing the same on this mild but gray October day. We have no planned route. We merely follow the haphazard signs on buildings indicating Rialto and Marcos. It’s a zigzagging course, seemingly bearing no sense. But then Venice is a maze of streets and canals, so straight does not exist. And we don’t mind. The sights along the way are picturesque.

In fact, once we arrive in the square it is an anticlimax. Crowded with people, selfie-sticks in abundance, long queues snaking along the front of St. Mark’s Basilica and dominated by the inevitable scaffolding, it fails to inspire. I admire the fine work on the front of the basilica, but honestly prefer the view from the water. So we return to the alleyways of Venice to take in more of their charm. We make good use of this short interlude, enjoying each scene as we pass. And I savor a rich gelato en route. Miraculously we ultimately snake our way back to board the ship.

Departing Venice we have a far different vantage point from this morning. Towering above the water, we have a bird’s eye view of the city. We sail away to the voice of Andrea Bocelli and say our farewells, once again seeing Venice from the outside in.