Fishing village in Lofoten

First, I have to correct yesterday’s post.  Midnight sun means that for several months in summer, it never gets dark.  And then for several months in the winter it is always dark, which is called polar dark.  The midnight sun and polar dark periods last longer as you get closer to the North Pole.  So if you were considering moving here and suffer with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), you might want to consider Florida instead.  

Our tour guide today was a young, blonde Norwegian girl named Matilde.  She had a fairly good command of English, but her sentences trailed off when she was searching for the proper English words.  I suppose it’s human nature to help finish another person’s sentences when she is struggling to come up with the right word.  Matilde would say something like, “We are now passing a place where we collect water for Lofoten, and people shouted “Reservoir!”  “Yes, that’s it,” Matilde said.  She was talking about a large painting on the side of a building, and people yelled, “Mural!”  “Yes, that’s right,” Matilde agreed.  She said, “That building across the loch is used to make power.”  The contestants, I mean bus riders, yelled, “Power Plant!”  It was like a two hour game show that required riding a bus to qualify.  

Doug says I don’t like people very much.  I say I’m just an introvert.   However, after about a week with only Doug’s company, I start up conversations with rank strangers.  Tonight, I talked to a couple from London.  They hate Theresa May, don’t understand why Americans talk so loud and don’t get Donald Trump.  I won’t delve into either British or American politics, but they are right about one thing:  Americans are so freaking loud!   Why is that, I wonder?

As you many of you know, I am a world class eavesdropper.  Last night at dinner, I swear the woman at the next table asked the waiter at least fifty questions about various types of white wine.  She wanted to know where the grapes were grown, how long the wine was aged,  if it was corked, if it was fermented in steel or oak, exactly what was in the blend, ad nauseam.  And you know what she finally chose after all of the fanfare?  The house wine.  Apparently, she just wanted to show off her vast, comprehensive knowledge about good wine, and then actually order the swill.

Tomorrow we go somewhere else on the Norway Coast.  I’m too lazy to look up the spelling of the place again.  It has a lot of consonants and an umlaut if that helps.  

 

At the Beach

 

Back to the Ship; the top right picture is of a fish drying rackI asked for permission to take this.  It was totally embarrassing and something I’m not apt to repeat.  Actually, her style is kind of growing on me.

“And when I awoke, I was alone, This Bird had flown,  So I lit a fire, Isn’t it good Norwegian Wood?”  I have never understood the lyrics to Norwegian Wood, but the tune has been in my head all day.   

Slow news day here on the ship.   We are headed to Lofoten, Norway and will arrive before morning.  Eventually will arrive at our Northernmost stop, Honningsvag, which is in the Arctic Circle.   Last night it was light until late—maybe 11:00 PM—and at Honningsvag it will be light until midnight.  Thus, the name of the cruise, Into the Midnight Sun.  

This afternoon we are going to a lecture called “Adolf Hitler’s Northern Flank—Scandinavia in WWII.”  Sounds exciting, right?  They have a lecture series on the ship that covers the areas we visit, so it brings history into the cruise, which is kind of our thing.  Actually, it’s more Doug’s thing, but I like it too, just in smaller doses.  

The northern islands of Scotland, the Orkneys and the Shetlands, were ruled by the Norse for over 200 years.  Their rule ended In 1468, as a result of a marriage treaty between James III of Scotland and Margaret, a Danish princess.  The Danish struggled to raise funds to meet Margaret’s dowry, so they mortgaged first Orkney and then Shetland to Scotland.  So, consequently, the people of Shetland are about 60% Norse.  They don’t speak Scot Gaelic—they have their own dialect with both Gaelic and Nord roots.

I almost forgot.  There’s a lady on the ship,who dresses to the nines for every occasion.  I talked to her the other night at the restaurant and she said her clothes are all vintage.  Her outfits are, well, indescribable.  I surreptitiously took this picture today.  See below.

And, no, the print on her leggings have nothing to do with the print on her kaftan.  As my Grandma Roofener would have said, “That’s quite a riggin’!”

 

 

Today we took yet another tour called “Rugged Coasts of the North.”  As you must realize by now, we are tirelessly in pursuit of adventure. We are at port in Lerwick on the main island, which along with the rest of the islands is the setting for one of my favorite mystery series, aptly named The Shetland  Murder Mysteries.   Jimmy Perez is the enigmatic, handsome, yet shy, local detective in the series.  Why am I telling you all of this, you ask?  Well, reading the six book series is one of the reasons I wanted to visit the Shetlands.  Seeing what you have read about brings the pages alive.  

What caught me about the Shetland series is how much the weather on the island shapes every plot line.  The islands have about fifty gales a year with winds recorded up to 190 miles per hour, so there are no trees.  And in the summer, it stays light something like eighteen hours a day.  A misty fog surrounds the island and the clouds hang low, dark and heavy (there is a film version on BBC if you would  like to see the countryside).

All of this for background for our tour today (TMI?).  We had a lovely Scottish tour guide who was born here and has lived here her entire life.   She was actually an extra in a couple of the films, so she knew where one guy was shot and thrown off a cliff, where Jimmy’s girlfriend lived and even where Jimmy lived.  I took a picture of the cliff and and of Jimmy’s house.  I didn’t care for Jimmy’s girlfriend, Fran, so I skipped that.  

Going on these tours makes me realize that at least 75% of the people on this ship are older than us.  Yesterday, on our “rather strenuous” walk, the ladies in front of me were discussing their knee surgeries and subsequent rehab.   Today a lady came over to the steps in the back part of the bus where I was sitting and asked if the restroom was occupied.  There was no restroom, so I said, “Yes, it is.”  There’s a lot of jostling for being first in line, which I don’t get involved in for fear someone will hit me with a cane.  And everone falls asleep on the buses on the way back from a tour.  

I got so involved in Jimmy Perez, I almost forgot about the Shetland ponies.  Yes, we saw some and Doug took a picture.  Our tour guide pointed them out and a bunch of people yelled “Ponies!”  every time one was sighted.  Kind of made me mad because I was trying to nap.  🙂

Above:  Jimmy Perez’s house and the cliff from which the already dead body was thrown.

This morning we took a tour that included a two and one half mile cliff top walk with views of the Atlantic. Our guide said it would be a “leisurely stroll.” My first clue that it may not be all that leisurely was that every other person going on the tour was dressed in high-tech hiking clothes and shoes, carrying back backs and wielding fancy hiking poles. I felt like yelling, “Wait! There’s been a huge mistake! I’m not ready for this; let me off this bus!” But instead, I just sat there quietly, feeling like an idiot in my sweater, jeans and black leather riding boots.When we arrived at the cliffs, the tour guide kept admonishing us to watch our step and not to get too close to the cliff edge because the sandstone can get a bit “slippy.” An understatement. For two and a half miles we walked on some of the roughest terrain imaginable, over land covered with big rocks, mud, sand and tall grass. We climbed three fence stiles, walked up and down numerous steep hillsides and practically crawled across several muddy ditches. I barely had time to note the scenery because I was so worried about: A. Falling down and busting myself, B. Trying to see where I was going with a hood that kept falling down over my eyes (did I mention it was raining?), C. Ruining my good leather boots, D. Sweating through all of my inappropriate clothing and, E. Keeping up with the “leisurely” pace without looking as if I were about to pass out.When we arrived at our destination, everyone else looked rejuvenated and ready for another go. I was hot, sweaty and breathing hard, my hair was bedraggled and my boots were splattered with mud. Oh, and as a final indignity, I slipped and fell flat right at the end of the hike.The upside: We saw Iron Age Brochs by the ocean and Skara Brae, a 5,000 year old village that was buried until 150 years ago, spectacular ocean views and archeological digs. So, in the end, as our Scottish guide pointed out, “It was a fine, soft day.” For some of us, anyway.

An Iron Age Broch

Our busiest day yet!  We punched a time clock on having a good time today.  Tendered to Edinburgh first thing this morning and first visited Edinburgh Castle, next the Royal Mile and after that, Holy Rood Castle where Mary, Queen of Scots, reigned several years before being imprisoned and then later beheaded for her alleged role in a plot to assassinate Elizabeth I (short version of a very long, miserable story).  

The first thing Doug asked me this morning is if I had on comfortable shoes.  I looked at him and said, “If your standard is that my feet won’t be bleeding by the end of the day, then yes.”  I’m not sure how anyone trails around on cobblestone streets, trudges up and down hills, slogs through castles, ruins and churches without feeling like one’s feet have turned to bloody stubs by the end of the day.  On the bright side, I met all of my Apple Watch exercise goals with ease.

We were in a tour group today, as we often do on these cruises just to make sure we see all of the sites (again, punching a time clock).  We always have “favorite” characters of the day.  Today the honors go to Mr. Photog and Miss Selfie.   Mr. Photog was an awkward, nerdy guy from somewhere in the U.S. (I’m guessing Omaha) and had two enormous cameras strapped on with a really serious back strap type contraption.  He took a zillion pictures of everything.  He even made the tender captain stop to take several pictures of seals on a buoy.  Our second contender was a woman from China.  She had extremely heavy eye makeup

and straight across heavy bangs.  Surprisingly, the rest of her hair appeared to be in longish Shirley Temple ringlets.  The entire day she held up her iPhone on a selfie stick and posed for endless selfies with historic stuff in the background.  “Here’s me in the front of the oldest church in Scotland, here’s me in front of Holy Rood, here’s me in front of everything in Edinburgh.”

Oh, yeah, the Firth of Forth.  We were either riding on a boat on it, or looking at it, or probably both several times today.  

We have spent the entire day on the ship with 900 of our closest friends (Doug took issue with my count of 500). I have barely spoken to anyone (except for Doug) all day and when I have, it has not gone well. After breakfast, two nice couples asked us to play Trivia with them and I said, “No thank you, we’ll pass.” They looked at me as if I had let out a stream of swear words. Okay. My next foray into polite conversation was this evening in the Lady’s. As background information, they have a recording of birds chirping in all of the women’s restrooms. (Can’t speak for the men’s because Doug doesn’t hear high frequencies.) I said something mildly amusing to the lady washing her hands next to me and she looked at me blankly. Then I said, “I think I hear birds chirping.” No response. Finally, tonight at dinner in the buffet style restaurant, I was reading the tiny signs explaining the food and one said “Veal Breasts.” I turned to the lady next to me and said, “Aren’t veal too young to have breasts?” Birds chirping.

We got up this morning with the goal of making it to at least one WWII something before we leave London.  I would like to wax witty about the Imperial War Museum, but I’m pretty sure one can’t wax witty and especially about a war museum. It is a superb display about War I and World II, with a myriad of interesting artifacts like spitfires, tanks, uniforms, cannons, guns and so forth. Quite sobering.  Time well spent and once again, it was free. On the way back to the ship we decided to come by boat down the Thames rather than by taxi (the taxi would be on land, not on the Thames, of course) just to mix it up.  The trip was narrated by a young man who obviously had not narrated anything before in his life, but his enthusiasm made up for what he lacked in polish.  In the middle of the trip he brought around a bucket to ask for tips.  His way of asking was, “Any appreciation?” over and over.  It seemed to work well for him. These Viking boats are small enough (around 500 people?) that you tend to see the same people over and over.  That can be both a good and a bad thing.  One guy we are already trying to avoid is a guy who has a laugh exactly like Peewee Herman. http://youtu.be/CYIKw91sAWE  He laughs both loud and often.   I would offer my deepest sympathy to his traveling companions, but they might think it’s an endearing quality. Tonight we sail at 8:45 PM and head for Edinburgh.

So, I suppose you know by now that I had a bad blog day yesterday. Nothing went right for me, largely due to,the weak WiFi on the ship. But just in case you were worried sick,  I’m back on track today. So, onward and upward!

First we took a cab from our hotel in Westminster to the wharf in Greenwich.  It was black, not gingham check as the one pictured below.  We spotted our ship and made a beeline to get on board, just in time to have an al fresco lunch.  (Actually, I think al fresco is a dumb way to say eating outside, but I wanted to impress my bloggees). Whatever.  We watched tour boats go by on the Thames and generally kicked back and rested up after a morning of doing absolutely nothing. After lunch, we checked out our room and the rest of the ship.  Then later we mustered at our muster station.  It went fairly well as far as musters go. Pictures in semi-chronological order of the exciting events of our day:

A preview of the plasters I had to buy at Boot’s Pharmacy for my sore feet after today’s activities. This morning we blithely set out walking thinking we were going to Churchill’s War Rooms.  When we arrived, there was a queue a mile long with at least a two hour wait, all in the hot, baking sun.  Summer in Europe.  So, on to Plan B: The National Gallery.  It’s free of charge, by the way, and there are absolutely no security measures.  It’s also humongous, so there were thousands of people there.  Seems a bit of a security challenge, doesn’t it? I love art museums, and the National Gallery was the perfect way to while away the afternoon.  Here’s me photo bombing the Van Gogh.t

Arrived at our hotel about 9:30 A.M., but couldn’t check in until 1:30 P.M. Our hotel has a comfortable lounge with food and drinks, but lounge chairs are just not enough when you are starved for sleep. Finally, they let us check in at around 12:30 P.M. We took a solid three hour nap this afternoon and then went for a walk about in our hotel’s general neighborhood. So, on to the Pubs.