August 1, 2007 — Olbia, Sardinia

This was a light day, and we needed it. With an inside stateroom it was completely dark. And we knew we wanted to sleep in, so we didn’t bother making a wakeup call. We have pretty good internal clocks, right? Wrong. We awoke to the sound of the Magic’s “When You Wish Upon a Star” all-announcement speaker at 9:45am and the voice of our friendly cruise director Brent notifying passengers that the crew would be staging a mock emergency drill in 15 minutes and that passengers should pay it no nevermind. Groggy, Angie jumped out of bed about that time and went to the front door. She peered down the hall to the right and was startled to see what appeared to be smoke. What? As we found out later from our server Sara, the crew sometimes is faced with mock smoke in their drills in order to make them find alternative routes to their emergency station. Someone had left a door ajar on the first deck and it somehow made it to the passenger area. Oops! But no harm done. I’m just glad the Magic goes to such great lengths in its drills to protect passengers in the unlikely event of an emergency. Now fully awake we got dressed and made our way to deck nine for a bite at Topsider’s. We just made breakfast. Afterwards, we headed back to the room to get ready for our Day at the Beach. We met at 1:15pm and headed out by bus.



La Cinta beach is a play area for Olbia’s more wealthy residents, our guide tells us. It’s about a 45-minute bus ride from the port to the beach and we enjoy the sites of the country en route. Olbia relies heavily on agriculture and tourism for much of its income. The land here is much different than what we have encountered thus far. For Americans, it looks like a cross between the plateaus of New Mexico butted up against the mountains of southern California. A British couple on the bus tells us this terrain is more like what one would expect to see in the Greek isles. At La Cinta beach the Magic passengers file off the bus.



We definitely look like a gang of tourists, tramping our way past the Sicilian beach goers to our designated area. I again note that the Italians are a fit bunch. No fat here, and the men and women alike are very tan. Many of the men wear Speedo-like bathing suits. And a noticeable number of the women tan sans a top. This is no shock as we had been forewarned. So, we settle in to our promised chairs under quaint umbrellas. One of our passengers makes a fuss to the tour guides that his chairs and umbrellas aren’t exactly the way he wants. To be truthful he was being rather rude. To the point that he makes one of the Sicilian boys working the beach so angry that he walks off in disgust. I inquire about the restrooms and make a point to apologize to the workers. They shrug it off. But justice comes when the man goes to sit in his chair and it topples over backward throwing his large frame off in the process. It’s all we can do not to laugh, but we hold it together. Now settled, Maddie heads off into the crystal-clear water with Angie for a dip.



The hawkers file by offering us everything from hair braids and knock-off purses to necklaces and water toys. We wave them off, but Meg is dying to bargain for a purse. I go with her and ask our local excursion guide, Pilar, if it is okay to buy from them and negotiate. She politely agrees to accompany up the beach to where the hawkers are camped out and we peruse the endless array of faux items. Meg settles on one and the negotiations begin. The seller, whose accent sounds African, starts at 75 Euros. He and Pilar go back and forth and she asks me how much we want to spend. I wasn’t planning on buying anything today, so I only brought 30 Euro. Amazingly, she talks him down to this price. Meg almost backs out of the deal, but I say we can’t at this point. As she takes the goods she gives a big smile, happy with her purchase. Pilar tells me she is a high school English teacher and this is only her summer job. She’s happy to see the teenage so happy.



We play around in the water a bit more and then it’s time to leave. In all, we spend about 2.5 hours here, but it’s time to go back to the ship. On the way back, the girls crash again (all of the kids here are so worn out that you see many of them sleeping on the busses). and hear about their fun day on board. We return to the boat and follow our routine of going to the evening stage show at 6:30pm followed by dinner in Lumiere’s. We release both girls to go to their clubs and we eat dinner with our table mates. Dinner was good. I forgot what we had. The adults enjoy our desserts and coffee and part ways. Tomorrow is a long day in Rome. Tonia and Erich have been there before, so they decide to stay on board. On our recommendation they head to the theater to see “The Italian Job.” We stopped by Shutters, the ship’s photo shop, to see if there are any photos we want. We choose a few and head back to the cabin. Our excellent cabin steward, Arya, has left Maddie a towel elephant. It’s now about 11pm and Meg returns. Anticipating a long day, we all hit the hay for a good’s night sleep. All ashore call tomorrow is scheduled for 7:45am.

July 31, 2007 — Naples, Italy

Indeed, time flies by when you are on the Magic. Thus, I’m actually writing this day review following breakfast on August 1. Albeit from the top deck at the forward of the ship. We’ve arrived in Olbia, Sardinia. We’ll cover this port in tomorrow’s report. For now, let’s talk about beautiful Naples. We aarrived in port early, so I didn’t see us dock. But the panoramic view of Naples that awaited rising passengers was spectacular. We awoke around 6am, got dressed and headed up to Topsider’s buffet on Deck 9 for breakfast. Apparently, nearly everyone else on board had the same idea because the queue to the restaurant was immense. We ate a light meal (I had my favorites of smoked salmon, bagel and fresh fruit) and went to Deck 3 midship to meet up with our fellow DISboard members for today’s private excursion. Traveling with us is Mary Jo from CA (who organized the excursion) and her two adult children; Paul and Izzi from London and their two boys. Together, what a motley crew we made. We left the ship and were greeted by our English-speaking tour guide, Aaron (pronounced AAR-OWN-EE), who boarded us on his 14-passenger Mercedes bus. We left port and headed to our first stop of the day, the excavated ruins of Pompeii. We decide to do this first as it will be a hot day and Pompeii does not offer much shade. The congenial Aaron did his best to point out points of interest along the way, but it was difficult for us to concentrate during the first part of the trip because of the chockablock road. At one point I literally bounced and hit my head on the roof. But it soon ended and we made our way to the highway. Heading northwest we skirted the edge of the giant Mt. Vesuvius, whose violent eruption in 79 A.D. caused the destruction of Pompeii. Izzi, who is a fount of history, points out that the volcano is expected to erupt about 40 years and that the last eruption was in 1944—it’s overdue.



Arriving at Pompeii, Aaron introduces us to Veronica, a local guide who will provide our walking tour of the city (A quick word about Pompeii—it’s not out in the middle of nowhere as I had thought. Instead, the whole city site is nestled behind a fence and next to a sprawling city that was build right on top of the settled rock and ash that overtook Pompeii and extended the shoreline towards the sea by nearly nine kilometers). We are all quickly taken by Veronica’s Italian charm, beauty and knowledge of Pompeii. She helps us get our tickets (11 Euros each for U.S. adults and children). I give the man selling tickets three, 20 Euro notes, but he wants exact change (Veronica quickly steps in and makes him give me back change, something he didn’t want to do). Near our feet is a large dog, lounging about as tourists walk around him. Veronica explains that many people dump their unwanted pets here because they know visiting Europeans and Americans will take pity on them. We’ll see several milling about during our two-hour tour. Tickets in hand we move on. Veronica first stops at a mounted map of the city and points out how immense it is … and it is big. Large portions of the city have yet to be unearthed and may never be.



We sense from Veronica that the government doesn’t have a set plan or timetable. As we’ll learn, Veronica is not a huge fan of the Neapolitan government. Because we are a small group of 11 (she calls us a “family”) we can duck and dodge into areas that other large tour groups (including some from DCL) cannot access. Veronica does an outstanding job of pointing out the typical things, but her passion for Pompeii is evident as she stops here and there to explain in detail the how and why of life in Pompeii as we explore streets, public buildings, houses, shops, restaurants (yes, Pompeii had restaurants), a brothel and more. Everybody takes away something different from the tour. The kids were impressed by the wool shop where unskilled laborers used their bare feet to squash urine (yes, urine) into washed wool to waterproof it.



Several of the adults ponder the thought that historians know there were an equal number of right- and left-handed citizens by the worn rock to the left and right of the water fountain at the corner intersection of one street.



All of this is more than 2,000 years old and we can see, touch and experience all of it without many ropes or other boundaries. In places it is very dusty. Veronica explains that the builders of the city purposely designed it with straight North-South and East-West streets to take advantage of the wind patterns, helping to naturally sweep the city of harmful elements. At one point she picks up a handful of pebbles from the ground and tells us to put it in our pocket—it’s the rock that covered Pompeii and is the cheapest and best souvenir we can have. We all laugh. Veronica is funny.



I tell the others in our group that I think she is a history teacher and that this is just a summer job. As I would find out later she is educated as an attorney specializing in international law, but left that vocation behind to pursue her dream of owning and operating an event planning and tourism-focused company. As we end our tour we all thank her for her time and each family gives her a 20 Euro tip (This is in addition to whatever fee she has previously arranged with our tour operator Claudio, with whom she works with exclusively). It was well worth it to be accompanied by such an expert. I’d like to come back here again. Back on the bus we head for the nearby Almafi coast and a drive up the mountain to a small ristorante that Aaron has arranged for us to eat lunch. We drive up and up, our eyes glued to the right-side window of the small bus as every twist and turn gives way to one jaw-dropping postcard picture after another. Words alone cannot describe how beautiful the view. The road hugs the coastline and, in some places, drops straight down to the tranquil blue ocean below. Million-dollar yachts are anchored just offshore.



At the top we stop for lunch at La Tagliata. The small restaurant is situated on the side of the mountain. Lush greenery covers the doors and walls outside and we are greeted by the sound of a bird chirping. Is this Parrot Cay? No, it’s a real bird, but reminds me of my thought earlier that this has all the theming of a Disney property (but it’s real). It’s about 12:15pm and we’re all starving, but in Italy it’s still a little early for lunch, so we are nearly alone in the restaurant. Aaron obviously called ahead because our table is set and ready. We pour ourselves a glass of distilled water and red wine from the pitchers on the table as the restaurant’s proprietors, two good-looking Italian cousins, bring on plates of appetizers from the open kitchen just feet away. With slight variation our immense all-star lineup from lunch the previous day is repeated. Homemade bread, ricotta and buffalo mozzarella cheese, fresh tomatoes, marinated white beans, light eggplant Parmesan (not breaded), carrots and spinach, and a plateful of cured meats fill the table. Everything is delicious (nothing here has been bad in my opinion).



In the kitchen something interesting captures our attention, an old Italian man smoking a cigarette is sitting in short sleeves while pressing artichokes and peppers into jars. Our server tells us this is his father and that he is preparing the artichokes to marinate for one year before they will serve them to guests. Wow! After the appetizers are cleared they bring on the pasta dishes, which are again served family style. Spaghetti, ravioli, manicotti, knioche(sp?) and a penne pasta with cream sauce. Mary Jo’s son and myself ask for more wine and, as a group, we eat nearly every morsel. The boys take away the remnants of the pasta dishes and replace them with two huge platters of desserts—one for each end of the table. The favorites were a lemon cream cake and rum-soaked bread filled with sweetened cream. We also had lemoncello, the lemon-infused dessert alcholic drink distilled and served in this part of Italy. It was met with mixed reaction from the group. The boys also offered espresso, but I don’t recall anyone taking them up on it. We pay our bill of 250 Euro for the group (plus small tip), and thank our hosts. Throughout dinner (and much of this trip) I find myself doing one those annoying things that drives my wife crazy—trying to talk in the same dialect as our hosts. With this in mind I ask our cousin-hosts to take a photo. The elder of the two (who has been too busy to really talk to us during the meal) tells me he spent time in Orlando helping his brothers, who own a restaurant there. So, his English is very good, and I feel a little sheepish.



Aaron, who had enjoyed a complimentary lunch in the kitchen, (By the chummy way he got along with the owners I got the feeling he brought clients here a lot) has the bus turned around for the drive back down the mountain. We reverse our route and wind our way back down the coast, necks craning upward trying to pinpoint the exact spot of the restaurant above where we had just been served lunch. Our next stop is the nearby Sorrento, an idealic little postcard coastal town famous for it’s huge lemons.



We mozy around for a bit and Izzi dashes into a ladies shop for some shopping. Most things here are very expensive, but she spots a deal that catches her eye. Not one to miss a bargain (I knew I like her) she makes a counter offer on the price and gets a 20 percent discount. Back on the bus we head for our last stop in Possitano. The central square here looked like a scene from a painting. The locals are just finishing their lunch at the corner restaurant. We meander down the main street and stop for a gelato (2.50 Euro each).



Everyone decides it’s a great idea to simply sit in the main square for a bit and enjoy the sites and sounds. Meg dreams of taking home the new Porche Carerra convertible that appears to be left abandoned in the middle of the street with its windows down. The Italian owner arrives shortly afterwards, hops in, and speeds off. I wander off to take some photos and we all get back on the bus when I return.



As we make our way back to the port we review our day and talk leads to life in our hometowns, then politics and religion (but not the third of that trilogy—we had kids in the car). Not that it would have mattered to the latter because all of the children were dead asleep, worn out by the day. Back on board we release Meg to run with the teens and we take Maddie up on deck for a quick dip in the pool and to grab a couple of slices of pizza. Then, Maddie and myself take in the evening show—The Art of the Magic—while Angie retreats to the cabin for some down time. We return afterwards and prepare for dinner at Animator’s Palate. It’s semiformal night. By now our server, Sara, has learned our eating likes and dislikes and steers us towards some wonderful dinner choices. We visited some with our table mates Erich and Tonia and hear about their fun day on board. The adults enjoy our desserts and coffee and part ways. On our recommendation they head to the theater to see “The Italian Job.” We stopped by Shutters, the ship’s photo shop, to see if there are any photos we want. We choose a few and head back to the cabin. It’s now about 11pm and Meg returns. Anticipating a long day in Rome we all hit the hay for a good’s night sleep. All ashore call tomorrow is scheduled for 7:45am.

July 30, 2007 — Palermo, Sicily

Good evening. It’s 12 Midnight and I’m doing my day wrap up from atop the Magic near the family pool, with the Med to my left nine stories below and Pirates 2 playing on the ship’s massive funnel-mounted jumbotron. It don’t get much better than this. Today was another magical day. We arrived in Palermo, Sicily around 8am. It’s hard to describe the breathtaking beauty of the scenery.



We woke up early and had a quick coffee again from room service. We awoke the groggy girls and got ready for our shore excursion, “A Day on the Farm.” Information about this particular trip was nearly non-existent in previous trip reports, so we didn’t know what to expect. But we knew it combined two of favorite things—beautiful scenery and great food. So, off we went. I estimate there were about 60 passengers—mostly families—taking this excursion. We weren’t disappointed. After boarding two hired motorcoaches we left the port for a scenic drive to our first destination of the day, Alia, which is southwest of Palermo. The drive was stunning, with our knowledgeable local tour guide giving us nonstop information as we meandered first through the ancient city of Palermo and onward to one of the country’s major highways (a narrow two-lane one at that). We climbed up and up on our 90-minute drive, going from one small road to an even smaller road, finally stopping on a dirt farm road. We departed the bus and walked the last 300 yards up a cobblestone way to two large, natural grottos, or caves. No longer in use, our guide said their known habitation by Sicilans dated back to 200 B.C. Inside, you could visibly see the remnants of a spiral staircase that had been carved out of the heavy stone. Small holes lined the walls and led up to a natural flume at the top of each cave. Here, the Sicilians lived and baked bread, using the openings as flumes. It’s clear by the landscape that agriculture plays a huge role in the life of Sicilians, past and present. Crops of citrus groves, olive trees and the special durham wheat are present everywhere you look.



After departing the grotto we backtrack about 15 meters to a small agritourista where local artisans showed us how they make fresh Italian bread and ricotta. We sample each from a huge table lined with small sandwiches and hearty pizzas topped with fresh tomatoes, olives, cheese, salty anchovies and olive oil. We wash it down with local red wine. I ask if the dry wine is Chianti and am summarily corrected that Chianti comes from northern Italy, and that this is southern Italy. I am learning that Italians are a very proud nation, very territorial. Everything is delicious and our hosts are very gracious. The farm itself is beautiful.



We again board the bus for a short 300-meter drive to the adjoining inn. While we wait for our farm lunch to be prepared we are invited to walk the grounds and take a dip in the stunning pool. There are about two dozen tourists here from the local area and we seem to be crashing their party. “Excusimo.” Angie and I grab a beer (2 Euros each) and take a breather in the pool-side lounge chairs while Maddie and her new friend splash in the pool.



Meg grabs the camera and heads off to snap some terrific shots of the scenery. Maddie’s new friend, Marney, is from southern California. We chat it up with her parents, Brian and Karen, and decide to share a table at lunch. They recently hosted an Italian exchange student and arrived a week earlier, spending time with their student’s family in Torino. They know some Italian and make for wonderful tablemates during our grand lunch. The food is made from fresh local ingredients (including the bread and cheese we just saw being made). The meal is expansive and massive, staring first with seven appetizer courses: bread, wine-marinated olives, tasty Peccorino cheese, huge white beans marinated in olive oil, arugula and herbs, two different eggplant servings and sundried tomatoes. Then they bring on two different pastas—a spaghetti with red sauce and another with white sauce. It’s delicious. But the feast is not over. Then comes the potatoes, followed by the main entrée, braised lamb (sheepherding is the main livestock here). We finish our meal with fresh-picked fruit and a rolled cake stuffed with sweetened ricotta. To wash it all down we drink red wine from glass pitchers placed on every table. We all enjoyed it immensely. As previously noted, meals here are slow and deliberate. A celebration as opposed to our often eat-as-fast-as-you-can dinners. I remark that despite all of this luxurious food that the locals are slim and trim and in excellent health. We could learn a few things from the Italians. Happily satisfied we thank our local hosts and head back to the busses. But we have one more stop to make at the nearby sheep farm. Here, the girls (and me at their insistence) milk the animals.



It’s heavy and dense, which explains the very rich taste of the cheese and white sauces. Wow! We return to the busses. Our guide gives a few more morsels of local history and leaves us to take a much-needed siesta as the bus drives navigates the winding narrow highway back to Palermo and the awaiting Magic. All in all, I give this excursion a big thumbs up—especially for families that don’t necessarily want to spend a great deal of time exploring architecture.



Back on board we head to the room and catch a breather before going to tonight’s 6:30pm Magic show. The French magician is entertaining, but not quite ready for the Vegas strip. Throughout the show he amuses the audience with jokes and European one-liners. Afterwards we return to the room and prepare to be Santa Claus. It’s out night to hand out small gifts to our other DIS board families. Voluntarily, each one has prepared a hanging “fish extender”—a handmade cloth hanger with pockets that dangles from the small metal fish outside of each cabin. Fish extenders have now become a staple on the DCL thanks to returning members from the DIS boards. Anyway, tonight is our turn to give out gifts. Before the cruise I collected small trinkets from home to give out—pens, pencils, notepads, stickers, magnets and more from our local universities, Chamber of Commerce, museums, etc. I like promoting our hometown and state and I hope they will be accepted by my fellow DISers with thankfulness for their advice, counsel and friendship while planning this dream vacation. Meg heads out to have dinner with her friends and the rest of us make our way to Parrot Cay restaurant for dinner. As you might expect, we’re not al that hungry, but can’t pass up tonight’s wonderful selections. We swap stories from the day with our new friends from Belgium. As with previous nights, dinner ends after 10pm. Erick excuses himself to go catch the latest Bond film in the theater. We say our goodnights and return to the room to prepare for tomorrow’s private excursion in Naples. Sorrento, the ruins of Pompeii and more are on the agenda and it will be a long day. Mary Jo from California, who organized the private trip, leaves us a phone message saying to meet up in the lobby at 7:15am. The girls hit the sack and I head up to do today’s write up. I hope you’ve had as much fun reading these entries as much as I have enjoyed writing them. I’m sure I’ll have more exciting tales tomorrow. For now, good night from atop the Magic.

July 29 — Day at Sea

Today was a great day. If you’ve read this far you know I can be a bit long-winded, but I’ll try to summarize things as quickly as possible. BTW, its 12:30am here and I’m writing to you from the now nearly-deserted top deck of the Magic whilst looking out over a moon-drenched Mediterranean Sea. Awesome. This morning we awoke early to hot coffee and pastries courtesy of room service, which is free and included with the cost of your Disney cruise. I slept okay, but Angie didn’t fare as well. The Mediterranean packed some bigger waves than she initially thought, causing the boat to roll moreso than our last trip with DCL to the Carribbean. After shaking off the doldrums we prepared for the highly anticipated DIS boards meet at 9:30am on the 3rd Floor Promenade Lounge. There were tons of people there, including all the DIS board regulars. Families of participants finally got to meet our many Internet pals that we have become so close to in recent months while planning our cruise. The kids all exchanged gifts from wherever they were from. Maddie received a Disneyland pin with her name (spelled correctly) etched on it from her exchange buddy Elizabeth, who hails from L.A. The parents also brought and exchanged gifts in a blind drawing. All in all it was a lot of fun, and a great way to put names with faces.



We wrapped up things at the meet, said goodbye to Meg as she flew by us on the way to the teen club, dropped off Maddie at the Oceaneer’s Lab, and headed to Palo, the ship’s adult-only restaurant, for a mouthwatering brunch. Palo is located on the top deck aft of the ship and features a 270 degree wraparound view of the ocean. But the view takes second fiddle to the food here. We have had dinner at Palo previously, and were duly impressed, but were trying brunch as part of a group—and from strong recommendations by—14 of our new DIS board friends. We weren’t disappointed. There are too many delicious items on the brunch menu to list, but it included a wide selection of fresh fish (including caviar, which I tried and liked), hand-tossed pizzas with creamy, local cheeses and meats, and a whole table of French pastries and desserts. Wow! I’m glad we came. Angie was still a little off her game from the big waves, which were white capping in huge swells, so she went back to the room for a nap. But she made it through brunch like a trooper. I went to check on a few things at the guest services desk, including the right time for the afternoon Wine Tasting seminar, which we had signed up for the previous day. I meandered around the ship for a while, taking in a cool art auction at sea. A Picasso was on the block and will be auctioned off the last night of the cruise. I think the high bid right now is nearing $100,000. Um, that’s just a bit beyond my wallet, thank you. I then headed up to the top deck to check out a game called Sound Waves being held by the pool on the top deck. Key words from songs—like “baby”, “wild”, and “love”—were displayed on the ship’s huge funnel-mounted jumbotron and guests had to sing lyrics that matched. It was fun. I ran into Meg and some of her teen friends hanging out in the hot tub. I offered to join them, but got the evil-eye from Meg. So I moved on. It was now 3pm and time to wake Angie for our wine tasting. The event, which was held in the upscale Lumiere’s restaurant, was hosted by four of the ships 65 someliers from around the world. Today’s tasting featured six wines from throughout Italy. I learned a lot, but the main takeaway was something I already knew—Angie like red wine and I prefer whites. The event ran long, causing Angie and Maddie to miss their appointment to have high tea with one of the characters. I don’t think they minded too much. Afterwards, Angie and myself picked up Maddie at the Oceaneer’s Lab and we got the rundown of her morning—fun sports on deck and a lesson in Disney animation. She said she learned the secret to drawing Mickey and couldn’t reveal it. But that she could draw the famous mouse for us, which she did. We went back to the cabin and got our bathing suits on for a quick bite at the always-open Pluto’s Doghouse. Maddie had a taco, while Angie and I had a cheeseburger and fish sandwich, accordingly. We then had a dip in the family pool and finished things off with a soft-serve ice cream.



We headed back downstairs to prepare for the evening’s mainstage show, The Golden Mickeys. Tonight was formal night and we didn’t waste the affair. The three of us donned our fancy outfits (I miracously remembered how to tie a bow tie) and we headed to the theater. We were greeted by Red Carpet treatment, including popparazi, and made our way to our seats. The show was good, featuring song and dance to some of the classic songs from past Disney movies. Afterwards, we swung by the cabin to pick up Meg, who was now dressed, and made our way up to the atrium on Deck 3 for pictures with the ship’s captain. We received several compliments on our excellent dress. The girls looked stunning. And I was impressed by the sheer number of guests in tuxedos and formal dresses. It was quite an impressive site. We made our way along the outside deck to our dining location for the evening—Animator’s Palate, stopping along the rail for a few photo ops with the brilliant orange sun setting against the backdrop of the ocean. Once in line we ran into our table mates from Belgium. The ocean swells were still very apparent. The proof was the side-to-side sway as we made our way to our table near the back of the restaurant (and back of the ship). The girls noticed the water in our glasses moving up and down. Yes, the swells were big. Then all at once the motion—and the ship’s engines—stopped. Soon after, Cruise Director Brent made an all-ship announcement that we had to make an emergency change in direction back to a port in Sardinia (which we had passed sometime in the day) to evacuate an ill passenger. We assumed they had to make a quick bee-line to the port, which helped to explain the big swells we were encountering. Once the passenger was off the ship we headed out again, but to much calmer waters. After the entrees were delivered at dinner, the girls whoofed them down and excused themselves to go back to their appropriate clubs. We finished our meals, enjoying the new company of our friends from Belgium, and headed to the kids’ club to pick up Maddie. Her and I dropped in to Studio Sea, the ship’s working television studio, to catch the last of Family Karaoke, while Angie went to the cabin to prepare for bed. Another announcement said our jaunt back to Sicily would create a delay of two hours for our arrival in port in Palermo Monday. That seemed fine to us as we had been scheduled to leave the ship for our excursion at 7:45am. That was now pushed to 9am. Megan went to bed and I headed upstairs for this trip report. I’m hoping that Meg will be home when I get back. Well, that’s all for now. Tomorrow we do “A Day on the Farm” in Palermo via a DCL excursion. Yes, we have many farms at home. But the excursion promises the kids the opportunity to make Italian bread and mozzarella cheese on a working Italian farm. And then enjoy the fruits of our labor in a traditional Italian lunch. How could we say no! I’m sure it will be another great day on the Med.

July 28, 2007 — Embarkation Day

Sleep was better tonight. We woke up at 7am. Everybody is still cranky, but I feel like I’m finally on Barcelona time (7hrs ahead of CST). We passed on expensive breakfast downstairs and instead walked over to the little grocery store we found the night before outside of Diagonal Mar mall. Choices for breakfast were limited, but we managed; fruit juices, yogurts and two delicious croissants all for 7.50 Euros. After breakfast we packed our bags and left them in the room for bell service to collect and take to one of five busses hired by DCL to take passengers staying at the hotel to the port. The DCL representative at the hotel said more than 200 families were at the Hilton Diagonal Mar. In addition to our checking out, passengers disembarking from the previous cruise were checking in to the hotel. It was pandemonium in the lobby when we all assembled at the noted time of noon to leave.



We ran into some other folks from the DIS boards sporting tees with our thread logo. I’m proud to see my artwork displayed throughout the ship on doors and buttons. It definitely stands out. Maybe DCL will hired me to create more artwork. Yeah, right! As you might expect, the collection of luggage and passengers took longer than expected. We finally boarded our bus around 1pm. After a short drive down Barcelona’s coastal highway we entered the port. Everyone cheered as we got our first glimpse of the Magic docked next to a much larger Royal Carribean ship. Because of the port arrangement we were snaked through a lower-deck terminal that DCL has obviously rented and decorated in Disney style. Local dancers entertained guests as they made their way through the terminal and check in. We were then greeted with red-carpet treatment as we made our way up to the gangplank—as I recall the same one used to depart the ship at Castaway Cay.



It was now 2pm and our room was ready so we took what bags we had with us to the room and settled in before heading to Parrot Cay for lunch. The spread was good, but not spectacular. Afterwards Meg headed for the teens club on the top deck to check it out. We checked Maddie into the Oceaneer’s Lab where she immediately began making friends. Angie and myself fixed a few excursions we had issues with online and then went back to the room to unpack the few bags that were now starting to trickle in. We both wanted some sea air, so we headed up to Signals to grab a drink and sit by the adults-only pool whilst we perused the Personal Navigators. Among other things, we decided to participate in the wine tasting seminar scheduled for Sunday. It was now approaching 5pm—time to collect the girls and head for the mandatory safety drill in the Walt Disney theater. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was real emergency would hundreds of passengers be so content to sit in an inside contained venue while the boat was sinking. I tried to take pictures, but no lady in our group wanted to sport the ubercool lifevest for the camera. Having met our duties of safety training we headed back to the room to finish unpacking. We returned to the WD theater for tonight’s show—Rember the Magic. Nice, but more or less a gimmicky way to introduce passengers to the ship’s executive staff and provide teasers for upcoming shows. Returning to the room, the girls had a quick rest break while we watched videos about excursions on the television. We then got dressed and headed to Lumiere’s on Deck 3 for our first evening meal. We didn’t request any special seating for dinner, so our tablemates would be a mystery. Turns out they are a family of four from Belgium. They know nothing of Oklahoma and we nothing of Belgium sans chocolate. But their English is good and we had a good time getting to know one another. Turns out their 12-year-old daughter and Maddie had already become best buds in the Oceaneer’s Lab. Tonight’s dinner was themed around the sailaway and featured some local flavors. I had a Maytag blue cheese soup followed by lobster tail. Angie and Meg had braised tenderloin and sirloin steaks. Service ran long and the meat was a little overcooked. Neither of them ate much. The sailaway party on Deck 9 was gearing up and we could see from our table that we were pulling away from the dock. Meg made a b-line to meet up with some other teens and we finished our meal with a couple of very good desserts. Afterwards, Angie and I went with Maddie to catch the last portion of the party and walk the deck.



The bright rays of the full moon illuminated the Mediterranean sea and a light breeze blew across the deck. It was a beautiful night. Maddie and Angie returned to the room for some much-needed rest. Meg is still out burning the Midnight oil with friends. For now, all is quiet in the Promenade Lounge. But tomorrow is a day at sea as we head for our first stop in Palermo, Sicily. But with so many things to do our itinerary is already full. So far, it’s been a great ride.

July 27, 2007—Travel Day

Hi, this is the first time I’ve been able to get online while on the boat. But, read on because I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Well, we left the house 24 hours ago for the airport. No weather delays as we made our way to Paris. But we were late departing Cincinnati while late-arriving passengers made their way to the enormous 767 aircraft. If this were my ride home I wouldn’t want to miss it either. Oddly enough our seats were in the very back of the plane. The English-speaking flight attendants are enamored by the girls’ fresh pedicures and vacation hair-dos. They also thought that their idea of bringing their own pillows was brilliant (something I didn’t think was smart, but what do I know?). It was a full flight to Charles de Gaule and we didn’t have much room. Sleep was fitful for Angie and myself, but Maddie sprawled out over the two of us and Meg ended up with an empty seat, so they caught some shut-eye. Because of our locale in the rear of the plane the girls missed out on the dinner selection of choice, the pasta, and settled for the chicken entrée. Neither liked it much and the attendants took pity on them, delivering a nice untouched salad and fruit cup from first-class.
Everyone is feeling the effects of jet lag, especially routine-minded Angie. Everybody thus far has been really nice. I don’t know what I expected, but I’m surprised at how many people at the airport in Paris speak some English. It makes me reflect how selfish we can sometimes be as Americans. It wouldn’t hurt any of us to try to learn another language. Anyhow, there was a lot of cloud cover as we came into Paris, so we couldn’t see much on approach except for the many quaint (and ancient) towns that lie just outside of the marvelous city. But we’re only on a layover, so we’ll have to revisit another time. Despite Internet talk to the contrary, the airport itself was very nice and modern. Apparently, we received a gate in the new terminal, which just opened. A fellow cruiser said the airport had sustained heavy damage a few years back when a portion of the roof collapsed, and this is the reconstruction. There are lots of Americans in the airport. Yes, our country’s current foreign policy is a mess by nearly anyone’s standards, but Americans are still venturing out to the rest of the world to prove that we are not all the jingoistic me-me-me nation that seems to be prevalent in the press. Angie and I trade in some of our AMEX traveler’s checks for Euros. The exchange rate stinks (thanks, in part, to the aforementioned foreign policy). I purchase a Diet Coke (and, yes, they don’t give you ice) for 3.85 Euros, or about $6. Ouch! We’re now about to board our Air France flight for a short hop down to Barcelona. I’m worried about picpockets in the BCN airport (I’m trying not to be paranoid). Maddie is suddenly very excited about the trip. I guess the enormity of this Magical trip to the Med is finally sinking in. Off we go.

Arrival in Barcelon was without incidence. Our only challenge was that the attendant in Paris gate-checked my carry-on bag containing our electronics. I thought I would get it back at the gate in BCN, but instead they pulled it with the rest of our luggage arriving on the carousel (so don’t do it unless you are confident you’ll get it back on arrival). Despite my worries of pickpockets at the airport we didn’t have any issues and all bags made it. Maybe it was because it was Friday and airport traffic was light. Or that we remained alert. Whatever the reason, I was relieved. We grabbed a cab (which was a first for everyone sans myself) and headed for our hotel. It helped that I had printed a map with the name and address of our hotel because our driver didn’t speak a lick of English. But, map in hand, we had no problems. He was a very good driver, dodging in and out of the crazy, crazy traffic in Barcelona. The cars drive literally inches from each other and hundreds of males and females on mopeds and motorcycles dart in and out while passing other cars. At one point we almost get side-swiped by another taxi and our driver yells something to the other car that I’m sure the girls shouldn’t hear. But we don’t understand him anyway, so it seems amusing. I remark that all of the rims on passing cars are broken or scuffed. Reminiscent of the scene from ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles,’ I’m sure Angie dug her nails into the seat. But she managed a smile and distracted herself by taking in the kaleidoscope of architecture that abounds in beautiful Barcelona. We arrive at the hotel and I pay the driver the posted 35 Euros, plus a 10 Euro tip. He seems duly satisfied and off speeds off to terrorize more arriving passengers. Our hotel is on the northeast side of town near the Westernized Diagonal Mar mall. Construction is going on everywhere you look, springing forth a wide mix of new and old. Along the way we marvel at the tree-lined avenues and millenials-old structures adorned with fanciful tile work. The Spanish are, indeed, master crafsmen. Check-in at the newly remodeled and modern-looking Hilton Diagonal Mar is crazy. The all-male, all-Spanish desk staff speak good English. We have two rooms on the 18th floor, overlooking the ocean and the hotel’s immense tranquil blue pool on the second-floor terrace. We give the girls their own room and they are ecstatic.Maddie is puzzled by the bidet in the bathroom. We try to explain it, but suffice with a simple “leave it alone.” After our long flight we crash for a while and decided to skip a pre-arranged dinner downtown with some of our Internet DIS board friends. I walked the hotel and ran into DCL personnel checking in passengers that arranged hotel ressies through them (it was much cheaper to do it on our own). They tell me there are about 200 families that are sailing staying at our hotel. That explains why we hear so much English chatter in the hallways and elevators (not to mention the prevalent tee-shirts from Ambercrombie and Hollister—something we told not to do as Americans abroad). We cleaned up and walked across the street to the mall. In many ways it was like any mall you’d find in the states. We forego shopping and walk the perimeter, where we find a small, but well-stocked local grocery store. We purchase a few sundries for the trip and take them back to the room before setting off again for dinner on the terrace outside of the mall. We settle on a nice-looking restaurant featuring, what else, Spanish tapas. Our server—a white-haired gentleman who reminds me of Pinochio’s Gipetto—doesn’t speak English, but we manage well. He plays with Maddie in a grandfatherly way and does a superb job of filing our dinner requirements. A portion of the menu is in English and the girls settle to split a manicotti, while Angie and myself venture out to try a sampler platter featuring appetizers of calamari, tomato-infused bread, a cold cucumber based soup and a tasty spread for the bread. Maddie discovers the anchovies.

After ordering I excuse myself to say hello to another DIS board member eating dinner with her family. She is surprised I recognize although we’ve only know each other online (this is just one reason why the DIS board are a great planning tool for anybody planning a DIS vacation). But back to dinner. The modest 19 Euro price per person price also includes an adult beverage. Angie enjoys sangria from time to time and this offering disappoint. Delivered in a quaint glass (not plastic) pitcher, it’s light and fruity, full of fresh Mediterranean citrus—miles ahead of our usual offering at the Olive Garden (ha!) in the states. I enjoy a mugfull of local beer. Maddie devoured the accompanying plate of fresh anchovies in olive oil, vinegar and pepper while Meg declares the lightly-battered calmari is the best she’s ever had. She whoofs down nearly all of the cheese-laden pasta. They don’t look it, but our girls can eat. Already stuffed of delicious food our server brings out the meal’s featured item, a huge pan of fresh Paella. The girls amuse themselves by prying out the mussels from the shells. It was soooooo good. We eat as much as we can, but cannot finish it all. But there is more to come as we are served two slices of delicious almond cake for dessert. Wow, they sure know how to eat around here. And, as I had previously learned, dinner is not rushed. Our bellies full, I paid the 53 Euro tab and give our server another 9 Euros for tip (I don’t know how much an appropriate tip is here, but I feel safe with the American standard of 15 percent). We head back to the hotel for some much-needed sleep. Angie is exhausted and Maddie is glad to not have to eat any more plane food for a while. I settle the girls into bed and head to the window of our hotel room to take in the magnificent view of a full moon casting a long light over the nearby Med. The view is spectacular. Tomorrow we’ll leave our bags by the door for the bellmen to collect for DCL-chartered busses and will meet in the lobby at 11:30am to depart for the Disney Magic.

Crunch Time

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Well, six days to go and it seems like we have sixty things remaining to do. Getting ready for a vacation shouldn't be this stressful. We'll be making our last push this weekend to nail down everything. Our "wall of luggage" is semi-packed. This weekend we'll finish that up, cross-packing clothes into each other's suitcases to diminish the possibility of any one person not having sufficient clothing in the highly likely event that their suitcase is misplaced en route to Barcelona. We've also secured a dependable housesitter and will rent a large guard dog while we're gone. So don't try anything!

I've read that Internet service onboard is spotty, but we'll try to post here as possible. Our new camera is going with us, so I have no excuse for not providing you with some nice photography. I'm also considering having the kids post from time to time to give their thoughts. Speaking of kids, Meg was crushed when we broke the news that her cell phone would have to remain off while we were gone. "What's a teen supposed to do w/out a cell phone," she said. Ah, modern technology!