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.

 

Sydney’s legendary New Year’s Eve Fireworks this year more than lived up to the global reputation for a spectacular showing. Sydney was abuzz in party atmosphere all day with people out in the streets, at cafes, and taking their picnics to the vantage points in the parks bordering the harbour foreshores.

I went with friends for dinner before returning to friends’ apartment for dress circle views of the whole display. The photos give just a hint of the magnificent pyrotechnics lighting the whole harbour for nearly 30 minutes.
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Click here to see other photos of the spectacular New Year’s Eve Fireworks over Sydney Harbour.

At 21 months, the child has endless energy! Poor Bill and Mindy.

Bring Jude back to Uncle Michael’s apartment to visit when he can talk, and understand ‘No’. Or can simply be sat in front of a DVD, or quietly in a chair with a bowl of grapes in front of him.

It took only five minutes for Uncle Michael to suggest that we abandon plans for cold turkey and salad at home and head for the cafe in the park for Boxing Day lunch  where Jude can run free on the grass.

Here are some of the photos.

 

Christmas morning – after standing for 15 back-breaking minutes to pick the tender shoots off the watercress and refresh in cold water, I put my hand into the sink only to find to my utter shock and horror that the water is HOT! I want to serve crisp, chilled watercress salad, not soup!

Now, I am so far behind in my preparation for Christmas Day lunch. I haven’t even started to set the table. I have been soaking the black currants in verjuice to make them plump, and will toast the pinenuts to coax the nutty flavour into the overall salada extravaganza – or what there is left of it.

I had the foresight to make the Avocado Soup yesterday and it is chilling in the refrigerator. I have not peeled the tiger prawns that will adorn the soup as yet as I wish to retain that delicious ‘saltiness from the sea’ taste that remains when a prawn comes straight from the shell.

I do hope the silver is polished and the little-used crystal gleaming!

PS: Just as we are about to sit down to eat, I’m asked why there are 7 places set for only 6 people. I’m not used to all this activity – obviously!

 

 

 

My good German friend, Gerhard   is once again working wonders with the hydrangea from his own gardens in the Blue Mountains to decorate St Canice’s in Elizabeth Bay for Christmas. He’s had large Christmas trees soaking for weeks in his dam to keep them fresh and green, and will adorn them with lights to stand next to the altar at Midnight Mass.

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Video ‘Performance’

Click on the arrow at the bottom left to start the video. And then you can click on the icon at the bottom right to open into fullscreen.

Alan hosted family and close friends in a celebration for his 70th Birthday.

Earlier in the afternoon of the big day, storm clouds gathered; the sky grew grey and steely; thunder clapped and lightning struck; and rain bucketed down. Providentially, by late afternoon the skies cleared and the sea calmed in time for us to board the Macleay Cruiser at Double Bay for a sail on the beautiful Sydney Harbour, and a glass of Taittinger, on our way to a mystery designation for the Birthday Dinner.

Docking at the wharf at Balmoral Beach, on what had developed into a beautiful balmy evening, the group walked casually along the waterfront to the wonderful Bather’s Pavilion for an evening of good food, and great entertainment – by none other than the host himself!

“I love the video, but can’t you do something about the red face”, says Alan. “I wasn’t as red as that you know!”

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Click on the arrow to start viewing photos from the Sydney Harbour Twilight Cruise and the Birthday Dinner. Double click and it will open into fullscreen where you can browse individual photos or view the album as a Slideshow.

 

Michael’s Reflection on the most recent 44 years of Alan’s Life

Click on this link to read what Michael, an old friend of 44 years, shared with Alan and all the guests.

75 minutes from Sydney and I’m landing at Mudjimba Airport on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. I’ve never seen so many babies in all my life as were on the plane. It’s good to see young families being able to enjoy holidays at the beach I suppose.

My brother Mark and Jenny have a new house overlooking Sunshine Beach just south of Noosa – so near to nature looking out at the sea but maybe too close to nature in the early morning being awakened by the cawing of old black crows and the screeching of black cockatoos outside my window.

Anne and Trev came up from the Gold Coast not knowing that I was the surprise guest. Seeing the prawns that Trev brought with him, that he had collected from the trawler man returning from a night at sea off the Gold Coast, was almost as exciting for me as Anne’s excitement and surprise at seeing me there.

You know how much I love my seafood (and my sister).

Click on the Picasa Web Album below to view more photos of our weekend

Great Uncle Michael doesn’t quite understand what it’s like to be blessed with child.

But after this afternoon’s non-stop chasing of young Jude over the grass in Rushcutter’s Bay Park while my bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich and coffee got cold, perhaps I’m the one who got it right!

The fresh salmon sushi that I brought with me as a wee treat for Bill and Mindy had to be thrown away. Even after I ordered three meals and three coffees at the kiosk in the park for lunch, the dragon lady of an owner sent a girl to remind me that only food bought at the kiosk could be consumed at the tables. Her shortsightedness makes me vow never to return!