Note: Something truncated the post. Text and pictures were deleted. I have tried to recreate it here.

 

 

…or so it calls itself. Le Havre is France’s largest international seaport and is located at the mouth of the Seine, on the English Channel.

In fact, many of the people onboard our ship were taking excursions to Paris. Two+ hours by bus, 3 hours in the city, and then 2+ hours back.

We had opted not to do that. We love Paris, but….

Instead, we went north of Le Havre to the Normandy coastal town of Fecamp.

We first visited the Holy Trinity Church and the adjacent ruins of an abbey, once a major pilgrimage site. It was an impressive church.

Then, also in Fecamp, we toured the Palais Benedictine, a grand Gothic confection of a structure. We walked through the streets of Fecamp toward the palace. When we rounded the corner and saw this brick eye candy, all we could do was gasp. The town is filled with lots of brick and flint houses, but nothing else like this.

After basking in all the art and architecture, we also got to visit the Benedictine distillery and cellars. It was interesting to see how this legendary liqueur is made. We each got to have a taste. Made with 27 herbs and spices, it’s pretty potent stuff.

Twenty minutes further up the coast, we got to wander the dramatic shoreline of Etretat. It was a beautiful day to be on a beach. It was warm and sunny, and there was no wind. (When we visited Etretat in 2009, I had to hang onto the parking meter as I figured out payment, in order to avoid being blown over.)

On our way back to the ship, we went through the center of Le Havre. Months after D-Day, even though Paris and other parts of France had been liberated, the huge and strategic port of Le Havre was still occupied. The Allies commenced 2 days of bombing and destroyed 85% of the city. Reconstruction lasted until 1964. Our drive through the center gave us a chance to see the modern rebuilding, designed by Belgian Auguste Perret and now a UNESCO World Heritage Center.

Today, we are sailing north through the English Channel. It’s slow going. Sometimes we have to stop, presumably to get a place in the queue.

Sea days can be rather quiet. So the captain ordered up some entertainment for us. Just kidding. But we did get some unexpected excitement. A helicopter kept circling around our ship. We were stopped, and soon people were starting to worry we had lost someone overboard. Then the helicopter stopped, turned to face us directly, and hovered in place. It had a rather menacing look to it.

At this point, the captain came onto the loudspeaker and announced that the helicopter on our port side was a “friendly craft.” He told us the helicopter was Coast Guard and had requested our assistance in a search and rescue training exercise. As the captain said, we never know when we might need their assistance, so the Viking Sea agreed to participate. The captain explained that we would be closing our retractable swimming pool roof and that a person would be lowered onto our sport deck and then retrieved. We actually had two people serially lowered and retrieved.

Here is the second fellow joining his compatriot.

And here he goes back up again.

There’s just no end to the entertainment opportunities on this cruise!

Next stop: Amsterdam

 

 

 

”CeeCee was right in his raptures over sailing into St. Peter Port. The harbor, with the town traipsing straight up and steeply to the sky, must be one of the most beautiful in the world.” (Quote from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society)

Well, things didn’t work out like planned. The winds did not abate enough to allow safe tendering, so said our captain and the harbor pilot (who managed to board our ship, but just, we gather).

At this point, I can’t even say it came as a surprise. But this was definitely a disappointment.

Ever since we read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, we’ve wanted to someday see the Channel Islands, Guernsey in particular. In preparation for the trip, we both reread the book, and loved it just as much the second time around.

But it was not to be. We got a glimpse of Guernsey. Just close enough to seem like it was in our grasp. But not. Can’t say it struck me as the most beautiful port in the world, but I would like to have walked through it.

Fort protecting the port (1) and St. Peter Port, Bailiwick of Guernsey (2) and (3)

Instead, our captain said we would head south for a bit then he would take us close to shore so we could see St. Malo. Then we’d sail by Jersey, eventually going near Cherbourg. After all, we had an unexpected day at sea to fill and only 120 miles before we reach Le Havre, our next port.

Well, our sailing route fell short of the described plan. We did sail in the direction of St. Malo, but never saw it. We did sail by Jersey, close enough to make it out.

Cherbourg? Who knows if it is still a possible sighting.

An odd day. At least it was sunny and the seas were calm, at long last.

“If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium.” Remember that movie from our youth? Well, that’s about how we were feeling. This was Sunday, therefore we must be in Porto.

It was both more and less than we were expecting. 

The less part: Now here’s an admission. A while back, we saw an episode of House Hunters International on HGTV involving Porto. It looked colorful and romantically rustic and charming. We had to see it someday. Well, while we liked Porto, we saw some pretty uncharming rustic. Our rose-colored glasses weren’t quite up to the trick of making this our escapist idea of a romantic getaway spot.

The more part: We definitely weren’t expecting the faded glamour of the old downtown. It must have been something in its late 18th and early 19th century (pre-48-year dictatorship) heyday. It is quite lovely in a rather low-key, rough-around-the-edges way.

We took a bus into the upper city, the main section of this very hilly town. We only had a couple hours to spend and planned to follow the Rick Steves upper Porto walk, with a couple elements of his lower Porto walk added in.

We started at Clerigos Church and Tower.

From there, we walked down the Rua das Flores a ways.

We admired this rather elegant tearoom. But we also saw an organ grinder who had a 5- or 6-year old “assistant “ who took over at times, plus an unexplained, tethered chicken on a stool.

3D tiles, which we saw on a number of buildings.

Then we went back uphill to the Sao Bento Train Station, renowned for its interior tilework.

We walked back up into the upper town, to the Praca da Liberdade, which is surrounded by lovely old buildings.

We took an espresso break (well, Jerry at least had an espresso) at a sidewalk cafe and did some serious people watching.

Then we went further uphill on the Rua da Fabrica, visiting a very nice Portuguese craft store and admiring the tiles on the buildings. We also got to see a number of the old-fashioned trams that beetle through the city.

We eventually landed in the Praca de Gomes Teixeira, with its pretty, tiled Carmo Church and its centerpiece Fountain of Lions. (Many of you who are familiar with my photography may have noted that I will almost never pass up an opportunity to capture a lion “on film.” Being an August Leo, I have long had a soft spot in my heart for lions, small scale to large—in pictures that is. I don’t collect them; I just photograph them. One of my favorites hangs in my office.)

Once again, so little time, so much to see. At least we managed to dip our toes into the essence of Porto.

We returned to our ship for a 4:30pm sail out. Our captain warned us we would have a very bumpy exit from the port. Waves were breaking over the breakwater, and the surf was running high. (The port, Leixoes, is actually a surfing center.)

We were instructed to sit for the first 15 minutes of our departure (or be somewhere where there was something to hold onto) and told we would be given a 2-minute warning when it was time to prepare. Yikes, that’s a new one on me!  The captain went on to explain we’d be having heavy seas AGAIN most of the way to our next port, Guernsey, which was 655 miles and 36 hours away. Some of you are aware I am actually a very nervous sailor and am very prone to seasickness. After days of turbulence, this was an announcement meant to make my blood run cold, as they say. However, the matter-of-factness of it kept me pretty calm—not happy, mind you, but resigned to my fate.

That was yesterday. It was indeed a rock-and-roll night, until about 3:00am. It has been a sea day today, one in which we have had to hang on to someone or something, but quite mild in comparison to what we’ve experienced the past few days.

Just as I was about to publish this post, the captain announced we are slowing our pace toward Guernsey. The forecasted 25-knot winds and 40-knot gusts would make our tendering into port unsafe. Since the winds are expected to abate by 10:00am, our whole schedule is being shifted ahead 2 hours. My, there’s just no end to the excitement on board. Good news: This means we can have a lazier start to our day, and we can still see Guernsey (something we are looking forward to).

We once had a trip when it rained 20 out of 24 days, forever known as the Rain Trip. I think there’s a good likelihood this trip will go down in the annals as the Rough Seas Trip.

On Saturday, we spent a long but fairly slow-paced day seeing some of the key monuments and historical sites of Lisbon. (Note: Don’t be completely misled by “slow-paced.” We still got in 11,000 steps for the day.)

Morning, sailing up the Tagus River to Lisbon.

We spent the bulk of our morning in the Belem district. First, we stopped to see the Belem Tower, built in 1514 to commemorate Vasco da Gama’s expedition. It also served as defense of the Tagus River and is now designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Our next stop was nearby at the UNESCO site of the Jeronimos Monastery. It is a massive Gothic structure, with a beautiful cloister.

Also in the area is the Monument to the Discoveries, which notes Portugal’s role in the Age of Discovery.

We walked from the monastery to the Coach Museum. It was interesting to see old royal coaches and to imagine a different age.

Next up was a visit to the Alfama district. I’ve heard of it many times and was eager to see it. It is a labyrinth of narrow, steep, cobbled streets. Up, up we went, curving and climbing.  (If you live in this area, you have a handy, built-in stairclimber. No need for gym memberships.) We had lunch and wandered around to look at shops and tiled houses and all the fado clubs. Wrong time of day for fado, of course, so we just tried to absorb the fado vibe.

A map of the Alfama, in tile of course.

Our final stop was the National Tile Museum, or Museu do Azulejo. It has a revered collection of the famed Portuguese azulejos. I have to admit that for years and years, for me, Portugal has been synonymous with glazed tiles. So, though Jerry was ready to call it a day, I had to see the collection. Did it live up to my expectations? Not really, yet I’m still glad I got to see it. There were some beautiful tiles to be seen. But  getting to see all the houses and shops covered in tiles everywhere one looked was, in truth, probably more impactful.

So, how is it possible we could spend a full day trekking about and feel like we saw next to nothing? That is somewhat the nature of the beast when cruising, I’m afraid. But at least we now have some sense of Lisbon. I’m sure there’s more should we come back this way again.