I need more than a fair resolve to publish a photo of myself looking like this!

Aaarghh!

 
But I’ve been brave enough to do so, as an added motivation to stick with an exercise regimen that I’ve signed up for, from tomorrow!

I have 2½ months before I take off again, and I am determined to put some shape back into that old body – soon to be 70!

 
Report from Day 3 of the Regimen:
Trainer Steve asks while stretching me after the morning work-out that concentrated on my legs, “can you feel that stretch in your quads?”
“Quads! What quads?” says I, feeling absolutely nothing in my foreleg.

The cappuccino after lunch at my favourite Greek Cafe is without my usual home-made, icing-sugar covered almond biscuit, a kourambiedes. That’s a sacrifice!

6th April UPDATE

After 7 weeks of ‘working’ with Steve, my Personal Trainer,
MY WAIST IS DOWN BY 1 ½” but my WEIGHT has remained the same. 
Muscle Mass is up a tad.
BODY FAT has reduced by 8%
STRENGTH on my left side has nearly equalised with the right.
 

 

Staying at the home of my old friend Edmundo in Key Biscayne, there’s been days when I was still in my nightshirt in the afternoon.

There’s a regimen to daily life living under Edmundo’s roof, commencing with a soft knock on my bedroom door at eight each morning, followed by Regina announcing “Coffee’s ready!” Strangely, I always drank a pot of tea, but I rather liked the sing-song sound of her “Coffee’s ready!” call to come out for the full Brazilian breakfast table groaning with sliced exotic fruits, berries, cake, and hot toast for the cheeses. How I’ll miss that!
 

 
It didn’t take any persuading for me to follow Edmundo’s practice of returning to the bed for an hour after breakfast, nor to an afternoon nap after Regina called us to tea at four.

As much as we vowed that my ‘break’ in Miami would be ‘without program’, we ended up ‘out to dinner’ with friends almost every night, mostly in local restaurants. Susan Kelley invited me to her home on Sunset Island as her ‘guest of honour from Australia’ for a wonderful dinner party around the pool. An intriguing guest list included a Syrian Mexican, now a Justice in the US Court System, and an Argentinian painter, who doesn’t let life in a wheelchair slow his energy in the slightest.

(Susan is another case of ‘enduring friendship’. We worked together from my early time in New York in 1975. On mum’s visit to New York a year later, Susan charmed her over afternoon tea on the porch of her Gramercy Park brownstone, and, for a fleeting moment, had mum wishing I had at long last found the ‘ideal woman’).
 

 
Edmundo’s close friend Tere Benach entertained at home with a delicious shrimp gumbo, and cake with guava paste – real Cuban home-style cooking. At the only dinner party at Edmundo’s, Regina excelled, spoiling the Brazilian guests with their favourite ‘o-so-sweet’ passionfruit dessert with freshly shredded grilled coconut. So good, Edmundo’s sweet tooth got the better of him in the middle of the night and he snuck to the refrigerator and polished the rest off.
 
 
I’ve been looking for a suitably sized object to replace Buddha in the black marble niche at the end of my hall in Elizabeth Bay. A Sydney friend suggested I find an old ‘Infant of Prague’ statue while in Brazil, but I never expected that

 

To me, Malibu conjures up memories of my youth; Beach Boys and Surfin’ Safari; movies and errant movie stars. In happily accepting Mike Abraham’s invitation to visit the Getty Italian Villa in Malibu yesterday, I was not expecting to find a museum of priceless Greek and Roman antiquities, all housed in a first-century Roman country-house.

In my travels, I visit so many spectacular ruins with hidden stories of centuries past. I listen carefully to guides’ descriptions trying to imagine how they looked, and to put them into a context of life at the time. I am not so interested in archaeological digs like Pompeii, Axum, or Leptis Magna – mounds of stones representing outer walls, and channels in the dirt don’t resonate. I hear more about sewerage systems in these than anything else. No wonder I’m turned off.
 

 
But, here in Malibu, Paul Getty, son of the oil tycoon, has ‘reimagined’ what was uncovered of an old Roman country house in Herculaneum buried by the eruption of Mt Vesuvius in A.D. 79. He has used architectural details based on elements drawn from other ancient Roman homes in the towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum to faithfully recreate the 2,000 year-old Villa dei Papiri here – on a hillside reaching up from Malibu Beach on the Bay of Santa Monica. The site closely resembles its original location next to Mt Vesuvius on the Bay of Naples, right down to the old scented Roman pine trees.

The visit is of interest to me from many perspectives. I feel I am ‘touching’ history. The only thing missing is the people. An integral feature of any Roman home is the gardens, and here Getty has recreated four with plants, bronzes and decorative motifs, as they would have been all that time ago. And of course, there’s the Museum, so well organised and presented that viewing the priceless artefacts from his extensive collection is a breeze.
 

 
My Picasa Web Album here contains a sample of what we viewed. Opening it into full screen allows you to go through the photos one by one. Hopefully the captions will continue my story for me.

Picasa Web Album More photos to be added

“Lobster caught by my own hand”, says Mark as he gently paints the delicate flesh with butter and lemon before placing them flesh down on the BBQ.

How’s that for a boast?
 

The lobster Mark caught by hand when diving in the Northern Channel islands off the California coast - on the BBQ at home

 
This visit with Marsha in LA is testament to yet another ‘enduring friendship’. Way back in 1969, Marsha and I worked together in a start-up tour operation for Amex in Sydney. We’ve remained solid friends ever since – 40+ years! Another guest at dinner is Michael Abraham, whom I have also known for 30 years.

Marsha’s partner, Mark, is an avid diver, spear-fiherman, and chef. I love coming for dinner and seeing what’s on the menu. I’ve heard of Santa Catalina island off the California coast, but the Northern Channel Islands are further north. This is where Mark dives.
 
Mark catches the lobster by hand, and also, while still underwater, prises open scallop shells firmly fused to the seabed rock, removing the delectable buttons of white flesh to bring up to the surface. How delicious, grilled with pineapple and bacon.

 

The diver and the diva - Mark the spear fisherman and chef photographing the delectable fruits de mer before we all dig in (fingers permitted at his table!), with Marsha and Michael A

I’m at breakfast by the pool of The Beverly Hilton Hotel, Los Angeles in Grammy Awards week with distractions a many – there goes my resolve to read the New York Times in the fresh air this morning.
 

 

Next to me under the palm trees stands a young music wannabe in t-shirt and cap on-backwards spruiking the successes of his band to a similarly attired tall young Asian (without the cap!), who listens attentively before returning his attentions to an attractive young Malaysian woman. On hearing me ask for more coffee, the Asian queries my accent and strikes up a conversation. This Dominic Lau is a nice guy. I learn that he is a presenter fro E! TV in Hong Kong, and is here for the Grammy’s.
 

 
What role could a Russian woman in pink leotards, black sheer top, and bejewelled necklace (glistening from the sunshine and sweat of her neck), have to do with the Grammy’s? Jewels at breakfast! That’s small potatoes. You should see the diamond watch, and the diamond on her ring finger. A slew of what I take to be Jewish impresarios joins her one after the other and share her breakfast while she unceremoniously smokes a cigarette.
 
I notice other wannabes excitedly giving their pitch to rather overweight older guys sitting alone at tables, whom I presume might influence their careers, for a favour, and then see them off with a “Thanks. I’ll call ya”.
 

This is not an “Only in America” scene, It’s truly, “Only in Hollywood”

 
Copacabana Palace Hotel in Rio had those wonderful phalaenopsis orchids hanging languorously in the shade of the huge canopied ficus elastica tree. Here at The Beverley Hilton,

At four in the morning, rain is peppering the surface of the large swimming pool of the Copacabana Palace while I skirt the perimeter from my room in the Annexe to the Lobby. Trendy young partygoers are still arriving and entering the dark and pounding disco . . . doof, doof! This is the closest I’ve come to Rio’s nightlife in the three days I’ve been here. I’m on my way to the airport for my flights to Lima and Miami.
 

 
Rio, Cidade Maravilhiossa is how the locals like to call their marvellous city.

The experience of arriving by sea has to be my first marvel. Sailing towards Rio de Janeiro, with Christ the Redeemer Statue on one side, Sugarloaf on the other, and the famous beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema in between, is one of those rare ‘Traveller’s Moments’.

Checking in and getting comfortable at Rio’s grand dame of a hotel, the Copacabana Palace is a marvellous surprise. I’m set to enjoy all the hotel has to offer.
 

 

Waiting for my room in the Annexe, how good is a Caesar salad in the shade of a large ficus; white and purple Phalaenopsis orchids on the trunk waving gently in the breeze; while I watch guests lazing on couches by the pool, in varying stages of undress, reading on their iPads and Kindles under blue and white umbrellas!

Stylised grey and white aprons of the waved Brazilian cobble footpaths, on all the staff in white, make such a statement. And my one beer comes with another, in a bucket of ice.

A perfectly sunny day for the trip in the cable tram to the peak of Corcovado Mountain to see the iconic ‘Christ the Redeemer’ statue is uplifting. After riding up through tropical rainforest, I walk the 240 additional steps to reach the statue as my little ‘camino’. This forty-metre high statue is the largest Art Deco statue in the world, and it is now one of the 7 New Wonders of the World.
 
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Beaches and nightlife usually spring to mind when dreaming about the attractions of this exotic destination. Unfortunately my skin doesn’t let me stay out and sunbake as in times of old, nor do I find it easy to stay awake after a good meal to go party. So, my marvellous experiences are a bit closer to home, and probably a little tame to some.

Climbing Sugarloaf is on my must-do list, but before doing so why not stop for lunch at the traditional Colombo Café de Forte at a table under the trees along the wall in this working military fort?

 
 
 
Soaring 40 metres above Corcovado Mountain looking out over the city to the sea, Christ the Redeemer statue has become an icon for Rio de Janeiro and Brazil.

We ride the cable tram through the protected rainforest of the Tijuca National Park for twenty minutes to reach the top. Bromeliads have attached themselves to tree trunks, and tangled vines fall from branches. Colourful heliconia, cassia and ginger bloom in the wild.

I take the 240 additional steps to reach the statue as my little ‘camino’. Christ the Redeemer is the largest Art Deco statue in the world, and it is now one of the 7 New Wonders of the World.

We are blessed with a wonderful day for viewing the statue, but would need to return in the afternoon to get the sun right to take a good photo of Sugarloaf and the famous beaches.
 

 
Judging by the crowds of all nationalities including women in burqas, and many Asians, I really wonder how many visitors still view it with the same religious significance as those who built it in the 1920’s.
 
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I’ve yet to see the sexy and scintillating – but the anticipation of arriving in Rio is palpable. 
 

 

Sailing towards Rio de Janeiro, with Christ the Redeemer Statue on one side, Sugarloaf on the other, and the famous beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema in between, is one of those ‘Traveller’s Moments’.

And then when we’ve had enough Sugarloaf, there’s a roast Suckling Pig calling out for me to come to lunch and relax around the pool on the deck downstairs (well, it’s the Brazilian Head Waiter Gustavo doing the calling).
 

 
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We are coming to the end of our 16-day cruise through the Caribbean and down the coast of Brazil to Rio.

I still enjoy my blogging every couple of days despite frustrations from atrociously slow internet at sea. It’s an absorbing hobby and it provides me with a handy single reference point for photos and stories in time to come.

There’s not too much ‘historical’ in the posts. If I’m brutally honest, I’d probably confess, “It’s more about me!”

Some friends and family even say that they live vicariously by following what I get up to on my travels. (I like to believe them.) Others still have problems with blogs – full stop! They dig in and say, “I’m happy to wait till I see you, and then you can tell me all about it.” (I sleep at night knowing that the latter does not apply to you.)
 

 
What’s been so wonderful about this cruise is that I am sharing the experiences and so many laughs with such old friends. John Thompson and I have been friends for nearly 50 years, since first meeting-up in hometown Brisbane. Amex brought Jim Kober, Edmundo and myself together in the 70’s, and we’ve been ongoing friends ever since – 40 years!

So perhaps, there’s a reason to scroll down through the cruise blog and see what we’ve all been up to – 4 Gentlemen at Sea.
 
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Turbaned women in voluminous lace-trimmed white dresses, the Bahainas, are on the dock to welcome us to the 16th century capital of Brazil, Salvador da Bahia. Seventy percent of the people in Bahia State are Afro-Brazilian, which adds an exotic dimension.
 

 
With bags clutched tightly to our chests as instructed, we take the public elevator up to the historic old town where there’s as many Catholic churches as there are days of the year – well, nearly – there’s 300!

We never look like being accosted, but Edmundo has to stop me from calling a policeman over when two smiling lace-trimmed ladies start demanding $10, each, for posing with me for a photograph.  “You should see how they live”, says the cavalier Edmundo with a shrug. Well, of course, I then took over ‘negotiations’.

We walk on to the Terreiro de Jesus, a wide plaza lined with 17th century houses in the heart of historic Salvador and stroll under the imperial palm trees taking in the spectacle of the major churches. The Jesuits are at one end, and the Dominicans are across the way. The Franciscans built their Church and Convent a bit further down past a row of most colourful colonial houses.
 

 
It is the Church and Convent of San Francisco that we visit. The Cloister contains 37 white and blue tile panels each with a scene from Greco-Roman mythology. The interiors of the church feature impressive Baroque-style carvings bathed in gold leaf.

The palms are not providing any shade or respite to us sweating in ninety degrees under a burning sun, so lunchtime is advanced. We hop a taxi to the Amado Restaurant in a beautifully recreated warehouse right on the Baia de Todos os Santos. (The entrance is completely covered with a seldom seen vine of red Quisqalis that grew in profusion along the side fence in my boyhood home in Brisbane.)

One Caipirinha, the local cocktail made from Cachaza sugarcane spirit, and the lemon ciruela fruit was nearly enough to put me under the table. But I’m glad, survived to enjoy the Grilled Octopus and then Sole with mango, papaya and cilantro salsa – all the time looking out to sea. When not looking at the glittering array of locals arriving – from a ‘Morgan Freeman look-a-like’ politician in starched white linen suit (with male secretary, two steps behind), and ‘ladies who lunch’. 
 

 
Our taxi driver returns and takes us on a quick tour past favelas and smart residential high-rises to have a quick look at a Brazilian beach, (or Brazilians on the beach). On returning to the ship, we forego afternoon tea and make a bee-line to cabins for a cold wash.
 
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Edmundo obviously knew something when he rang me in my cabin early this morning saying that a queasy tummy would keep him from coming on the river tour and rainforest walk today.

We sail for an hour down the Guama River with rain falling,seeing and learning about life lived along the riverbank, before climbing ashore up slippery, rickety old wooden steps to a forest landing.
 

Unseen birds twittering in the green; flying termites make straight for the back of my throat and up my nose; my sneakers sink into the mud and splash my pants; the largest butterfly I have ever seen, a beautiful blue one, flutters by to tease; while our local guide Cicero passionately describes in minute detail the medicinal qualities of each and every 249 plants we pass on the rainforest floor. Aaaphew!

 

 
Even my keen botanical side tunes out, and I decide to rely on the good commentary about life in the Amazon rainforest that we heard on the journey down the river.

On returning to the Whisper, John and I decide to stay on board the riverboat and skip lunch. We are the only two on the top deck setting out for a quick adventure into the port of Belem. Chugging out against a strong current, leaden skies open sending lashing rain and gusts of wind blowing the orange plastic chairs all around the deck.

Going ashore, totally paranoid by frequent warnings to leave jewellery and watches on the ship and to keep both hands on our camera, we don’t venture much further than the main street of the old town and markets along the river. The decaying, once colourful old buildings are very much like those in Havana.
 

 
With bag and camera clutched close to chest, and umbrella balanced under my arm, you can imagine trying to take photos, and also keep raindrops off the lens. Such fun!
 

Returning to the ship after the storm, the choppy Amazon finally gives me the brown contrast with the grey skies that I’ve been trying to capture in all my photographs today. Check them out in my Picasa album!

 
Crossing the Equator as we approach the mouth of the Amazon, King Neptune and his court board the ship. Unlucky first-timers are singled out for the ‘treatment’.
 

Life at sea is not always a piece of cake.

Not when we are constantly being bombarded with kindness and being asked at meals if we would like ‘more wine?’. I was starting to think I was an old lush!

And not, when day after day, having to face tomatoes that are colourless and tasteless!

But after one week at sea, the matter seems to be ‘in hand’.

I was pleasantly surprised at lunch today when two different waiters asked if I would like ‘some wine?’. My word to the Head Sommelier Katrina must have hit home. Last night I mentioned this lack of etiquette to her and told of of my Aunty Viv’s training when I was a teenager. ‘Never offer anyone ‘another slice of cake in case the person may think you have been counting (the number of slices already consumed)!’

Also last evening, I mentioned the tomato situation to Sujhit, the Food & Beverage Manager, who advised me to call him the next day if the new tomatoes brought on board in Barbados were not to my redness.  Well, they weren’t, and the maitre at lunch did phone him.

Serve me right! I’m still sitting here with John and Jim, all of us eating a large plate of red sliced tomatoes to save my being red-faced.

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And so the party rolls on . . . I’m adding these photos and others to the blog post “Life on the Ocean Wave”. Scroll down to find all the photos.

Talking of rolling on, we have ‘rolled’ all the way today in sub-equatorial waters with stiff easterly winds, with the nearest land being Venezuela. I went to bed for the afternoon and rocked to sleep like a baby for four hours. Tonight we met all the officers at the very smart Virtuoso Cocktail Party before a simple main plate and salad in the main dining room – we’re already down to just the ‘essentials’ – for sustenance.

 

 

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68 year-old Barbadian Frank makes our day! What a gentle-man. He’s only too eager to please, and to share stories of his life, and of the island.

Frank worked with his mother in the sugarcane fields from age 10 bundling sticks of cane and putting it on her back. (Slavery was abolished a century earlier, but I wonder . . .) Today, a grandfather, Frank is totally accepting of his lot, and a terrific, unassuming local guide (and driver).

We tour the tranquil west coast past waterfront mansions of the rich and famous, and of course the famous Sandy Lane Hotel. But Jim has a recommendation for a lunch stop. Under a canvas canopy on the deck at ‘Cin Cin by the Sea’, waves roll in and quietly break on the sand beneath us. This is a highlight.

New Zealander Michelle and her Barbadian husband have created a world class Mediterranean experience here. I enjoy an excellent New Zealand Pint Gris from Central Otago in the South Island with my Caesar Salad at a price less than in a good restaurant in Sydney.

Frank patiently waits and then continues across the island through the remaining cane fields to St Nicholas Abbey, one of the island’s oldest surviving plantations. The great house, a Jacobean Mansion featuring elegant curvilinear gables and ornamental detail, is well preserved. Of course we have to sample the famous 8 year-old Mount Gay rum in the old Rum and Sugar Bond out the back.

The once British colony of Dominica nestles between French possessions of Guadelupe and Martinique in the Eastern Caribbean Basin. Sugarcane and Bananas were once major industries on the island, but with subsidies removed, the local producers were no longer competitive.As with other islands in the area, Tourism has become the major industry. In addition, Venezuela has built an oil refinery here.

Our plans to simply wander are soon changed by the friendly approach of Nicholson, a local jeepney driver who greets us at the end of the dock. Without seat belts, or sides on the vehicle, we wind-up and around steep mountain roads (and pray that the gear-box holds in first gear as we descend), take photos, and tour the town – so much better than just wandering.

We are quite content admiring waterfalls (that others are trekking along steep mountain paths to view) . . . from a distance.

And as for descending over slippery roots on the rainforest floor to see hot sulphur baths . . . well, next visit perhaps!

After two days at sea with first-time cruiser John starting to get cabin fever, we come to the first of our cruise stops – Tortola in the British Virgin Islands. Megaships turn this sleepy backwater into a thriving Caribbean market town for the first months of the year.

Edmundo has been hankering to get ashore to give the neon shorts he paid a King’s ransom for in Sydney an airing; Jim has his new camera and wants to test more settings; and I took an early tender to the dock on a reconnoitre to check the island’s transportation options.

One look at the thousands of tourists bring disgorged from two megaships that beat us to the dock and we decide to hop a taxi and go straight to Soper’s Hole on the western tip of the island to catch some local colour, and stop for lunch.

On leaving the dock compound, Pablo, our van driver tries to palm us off into his father-in-law’s van. We pile out but on seeing the spare seats are in the ‘back of the bus’ , I refuse and we all get back into Pablo’s van. Not happy, he announces indignantly that he will drive us to Soper’s Hole, but will not accept any money. He drops us and drives off without another word.

Surely his actions could not be interpreted as contempt towards gentlemen tourists?

Lobster fresh from the Caribbean all round. But we’ve come back on board a little peckish, so we’re all meeting for Afternoon Tea with that wonderful stack of finger sandwiches, hot scones and little cakes to go with our Darjeeling..

“Rub-a-dub-dub, four men in a tub . .” fascinates some. When our sweet waitress, Anunciata, asks Jim where our wives are, in his jocular manner, he snappily tells her “women talk too much”. And like a chattering chipmunk, the dear girl kept on with a battery of even more questions while our tea got cold. . . . proving Jim’s point!

I hope you enjoy this first post from the Caribbean. The internet is poor. Others may not be so long.

Click on arrow to start Picasa Web Album Slideshow.

This Picasa Photo Album contains shipboard photos. I will add more of our ‘shipboard life’ shots as we sail along.

Lunch at the Viceroy overlooking the Bay with my host Edmundo, and then a visit to the minimalist Four Seasons before dinner at Buena Vista Bistro in the Design District – not bad considering this is my first day, after travelling a day and a half to get here.