Our Cruise (part I)
Thursday, 19th May 2011. The Barcelona taxi driver being told that we wanted to go to Moll D’addosat, asks the one word question I could understand.
“Brilliance?”
“Si” I answered in my best Spanish.
‘Brilliance of the Seas’ our ship and destination of our long awaited 12 day cruise was the object of his question and I understood immediately that he was not unfamiliar with one of Barcelona’s main sources of income – foreigners going on Mediterranean cruises.
It had taken ten years after our first discussion about going on a cruise, to finally make the reservation. Family duties and work obligations always seemed to make the timing unsuitable. Now both retired, nothing stood in our way.
Duly arriving at the port alongside the huge ship, our tummies fluttering with excitement, like children on the last day before the holidays, we were discharged, along with our soon to be fellow passengers from hundreds of black and yellow cabs, like bombs falling in a ‘stick’ from a WWII bomber.
I looked at the taxi’s meter, counted out the requisite amount of Euros and in my now impeccable Spanish said “Gracias” with just the right amount of tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth to ensure perfect pronunciation.
We, and our fellow travelers were relieved of our heavy luggage by a bevy of porters who wrote our cabin details, which I knew, having pre-registered online, starting twelve days of having every request granted graciously and immediately. Going through sliding doors we were swallowed, like Jonah, into the enormous hall. Our excitement rose as we encountered uniformed staff ready to guide us through the embarkation procedure.
We were shepherded into a maze of ropes similar to those at most airports. At a desk about 100 meters in length sat numerous, mostly young, men and women, taking our names and checking us off the list - all computerized, of course.
“Good afternoon, welcome to the ‘Brilliance of the Seas’. Your passports, please.”
I handed over our Israeli passports, used to pre-register online, although we also have British passports - to facilitate our all too infrequent travels in Europe.
I was then asked for my Visa card. Our credit card details were fed into the system and like royalty, we would need no money for the entire twelve days, as everything could be charged by producing our blue ‘Sea-pass’ card, a combination of identity document, room key and of course, unlimited credit. Gambling bores me more than somewhat, but had I been a gambler, I could have used my ‘Sea-pass’ card to buy U.S. $2000 of casino chips every day!
The very efficient procedure ensured we were on board in a very short time, no more than fifteen minutes and being shown to our cabin, but not before the ship’s photographer took a picture of everyone boarding, available for the ‘low’ price of $19.90! Photos would be taken on various occasions, mostly when leaving the ports of call and at special functions. Albums of the entire cruise were available for $399.00. What a bargain!
It may be clichéd, but there is no way to describe the accommodation, other than as a ‘floating hotel’. The cabin was not large, but had more than ample space, with a double bed, two-seater couch, television, mini-fridge, dressing-table with large mirrors – fit enough for use by a movie star – a hair dryer and electrical connections for both European and American appliances. The ablution facilities consisted of an ‘airplane’ flush toilet, and a shower in which young supple honeymooners would have enough room to make whoopee. Unfortunately, although Jill and I feel and sometimes act like newlyweds, our bodies are not as limber as they once were.
Refreshments were available on the eleventh of the thirteen decks. From now until our departure we would not have to go further than an elevator ride to find a quantity and variety of food, that when confronted by television pictures of hungry millions, should be considered sinful. However, one does what one can to help the less fortunate, and I thank God daily for my good fortune.
As the ship sailed we stood at windows, it was too cold to venture out, and Barcelona receded into the distance. The captain made an announcement, in English, welcoming us all on board his ship and told us that a mandatory emergency drill would take place and to refer to the number on our Sea-pass card to ascertain our station. The announcement was then made in several other languages. Although the majority of the passengers were English speaking - if one includes those from the U.S.A. - multiple languages were spoken.
The crew had been gathered from about forty-two countries across the globe, from China, South East Asia, India, the West Indies, and places closer to home such as Turkey. Although harmony mostly prevailed, we found out by chatting to staff that tensions between members of the crew did occasionally arise. We learned that ethnic and language groups tended to form cliques, but crew, were assigned cabins for two, without consideration of nationality. Perhaps the peoples of the world could live together in relative peace if we considered our planet one big cruise liner?
The drill completed and all the passengers dismissed, we made our way to our cabin. We had not yet received our suitcases so we sat on the bed and relaxed.
Jill as always the worrier, remarked, “I hope they haven’t lost our luggage.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied, “they’ve got a whole shop of everything we need from underwear to tuxedos. We’ll get a new wardrobe for nothing if we should be so lucky.”
Jill wasn’t impressed and gave me a dirty look but accompanied by a smile. After forty years she is slowly getting used to my strange sense of humor. Someone knocked on our door.
“One moment please,” Jill shouted out.
I opened the door to find a young man obviously from the Indian subcontinent standing at the door.
“Come in, please,” I said.
“I am your cabin attendant, my name is Lalith,” he said offering me his business card. “You can get me at anytime day or night by dialing the number on the card. Anything you need please ask and it will be my pleasure to help.”
We all shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you Lalith, where are you from?”
This question would be asked many times of both crew and fellow passengers during the voyage.
“Bombay,” he replied, using the more familiar name for Mumbai.
We introduced ourselves as being from Israel. To quiet Jill’s anxiety I asked when our luggage would be delivered. We need not have worried, as our luggage soon stood outside all the cabins, including ours in a line, like soldiers on parade, early enough for us to have a change of clothes for dinner.
Lalith was true to his word. We asked and he delivered every request from little cartons of milk for Jill, which she needs from time to time for a digestive problem to additional towels, for me to rest my head at night, instead of the very puffy cushions provided. The cabin attendants, waiters, assistant waiters and headwaiters (Maitre D’) work on a gratuities basis. Whether this is fair or not is difficult to decide, but it does ensure that no request goes unanswered.
Good food and plenty of rest are a priority on any holiday, so we made a quick tour of the ship, through the dining room to find our table, the buffet dining room, the ‘Seaview Café’ where food is available until 2.00 a.m. We quickly estimated that food was available at no extra charge, twenty-four hours a day. However between 2.00 a.m. and 5.00 a.m. one paid $ 3.95 for room service.
The rock climbing wall, interesting, but it made my already spinning head, as a result of a recent minor stroke, positively reel, the putt-putt golf course, which we wanted to try out but due to a full schedule, we will leave for our next cruise – when we win the Lotto, of course. Various lounges, bars, eateries – not ‘free food’ so why bother- and coffee bars. A casino with multiple slot machines - formally ‘one-arm bandits’, but now all push button, digitally controlled. A shop with necessities, soap, toothpaste etc., as well as luxuries, watches, jewellery, expensive cosmetics and perfumes, hard liquor, and the ubiquitous mostly useless, kitsch souvenirs.
We were booked for dinner at 6.30 p.m. – all times in American, to cater to the majority – so we retired to our cabin to clean up for our first sit down full service meal. We dressed casual but smart, no denim jeans, but also no tie, and made our way to the dining room. The maitre d’ showed us to our table. Already sitting were two couples also of mature years. We introduced ourselves. Ellen, a retired schoolteacher, and Bill, a retired engineer, from Cincinnati, who were celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary, but were both only 68 years young, and Elsie and Alistair, British ex-pats who live near Alicante in Spain, and had been married to each other for twenty-five years, but for both it was the second time around. One evening we were discussing how long each couple at the table had been married. When Ellen heard that Elsie and Alistair had been married previously she suggested adding the total number of years together, so as to get nearer to her and Bill’s golden number or even the modest forty that Jill and I were celebrating. Elsie’s face turned sour, as if the food suddenly tasted bad.
I remarked, “By the look on her face, Elsie doesn’t seem to think that’s such a good idea.”
“Too right,” replied Alistair.
We usually only met at dinner, and it was fascinating that even though we apparently had nothing in common, we shared very pleasant evening meals. The conversation never lagged and we had many good laughs. Perhaps knowing it is very unlikely you will ever meet again, removes inhibitions.
Elsie had an adult daughter from her first marriage, who was apparently married without children and financially well off. Elsie and Alistair had lived in Spain for about fifteen years and having no grandchildren had wisely decided to enjoy spending as much of their money as possible. Despite Elsie having a dickey ticker, she was still reasonably healthy. This was their fifth or sixth cruise, and here were Jill and I thinking this is a ‘once in a lifetime’ adventure. There were many veteran cruisers on the ship.
Elsie was real character and she and Alistair, had travelled to Egypt several times where she had once bought a questionably legal ancient artefact from a ‘friend’, and had nearly been caught, selling it later on E-bay for a good profit. They had sailed the Nile on a riverboat, à la Murder on the Nile by Agatha Christie. During this journey their cabin had been robbed, but Elsie was brave or maybe foolish enough to confront the perpetrators and get justice. Elsie and Alistair had a touch of mystery about them and in a moment of wild fantasy, I imagined they could be on Scotland Yard’s wanted list.
Our waiter, Fatin, was Turkish and his assistant Kateryna was from the Ukraine. On the first evening Fatin recommended the ‘medallions of pork’. Jill and I replied that we did not eat pork.
“Where are you from?” asked Fatin.
“Israel,” we replied.
“I’m a Moslem and don’t eat pork either,” replied Fatin.
On the many times we introduced ourselves as Israelis, we sometimes got an expression of surprise, as few of our fellow passengers had ever met an Israeli, encouragement, but never a negative response. Alistair, our table companion went as far as to say that he thought Israel usually ‘got a raw deal’. It is apparent that we Israelis are perhaps more than a little paranoid.
Friday 20th May we awoke in the morning to the sounds of action outside our porthole. We looked out and saw a lifeboat being lowered passed our window. Later we saw three or four of these craft, in the water. We knew that at Villefranche-sur-Mer[1] our port of call for the day there was no quay. All those who wanted to go ashore would do so in little boats.
Villefranche-sur-Mer is very near to Nice[2], not far from Cannes, where the Film Festival was in full swing and Monte Carlo, which was due to hold as the Monaco Grand Prix Formula I race the following week. Those who did go ashore told us the place was crowded and noisy as the track was being prepared. Just as well we stayed on the quiet ship as we hate crowds and I have become extremely sensitive to noise. Anyhow, looking at the prices of the shore tours, one needs very deep pockets. Jill and I don’t like organised tours. Galloping after a guide holding up an umbrella or numbered paddle and then waiting for the stragglers to catch up before the explanations begin seems pointless. With the Web or one of the many travel books one gets more background than even the best tour guide can impart in the brief explanations usually given. I go on holiday to rest, not to exhaust myself playing ‘follow my leader.’
I had spent about three months prior to our trip reading the Internet and printing out any information I thought I could use. I always try and find places of Jewish interest, as I feel, ‘if you’ve seen one church, you’ve seen them all.’ The one exception I made was Ravenna, but more of that in due course.
I had intended to go ashore at Villefranche-sur-Mer to buy a French baguette and visit the Chagall, Matisse and Fine Arts Museum. I had last been to France in 1972 and this very French staple has remained imprinted in my taste buds ever since. I decided against going ashore as I had not pre-arranged transport, a fact I later learned was not necessary and I was feeling quite tired. The very early morning flight, the previous day to Barcelona; we left home at about 3.00 a.m., and it had taken some twelve hours before we were able to rest; had left me physically exhausted. I decided to stay on board, by no means a hardship, with all the food and a very comfortable bed on which to have my afternoon shlof. Also the next day we were to call at Livorno, where my research had shown a rich Jewish history with a small but vibrant community. My only concern was that it would be a Shabbat and I did not want to intrude, by visiting the shul during services.
I sat in a window with my sketchpad and for the first time in several years drew. The village in front of me was at the end of a carpet of blue water, but too many buildings dotted the once thick verdant hillside. I’m sure the residents of this seemingly quiet paradise would not agree with me, but expanding human populations overrun much idyllic nature.
That evening we sat on the deck adjacent to the buffet dining room, drinking tea and hot chocolate, available at all hours day and night. A couple sat down and we started talking. Fred and Marlene were from Cape Town in South Africa, and it soon became apparent they were what we termed Coloureds, people of mixed race, or of Malay descent. When we lived in South Africa they were in the middle, status-wise, Whites, Coloureds, and then the Blacks. Fred told us that they were still, as he put it ‘the meat in the sandwich’ but now the sandwich had been turned upside down. It was the first time either Jill or I had ever had a conversation with non-White South Africans. Fred had worked for the German consulate in Cape Town, learning German by osmosis and his wife had raised their children, all of them had done very well. Although we saw them from time to time we didn’t get a chance to talk to them again, a pity, because we could have learned about a South Africa we never knew.
To be continued………………………………
[1] http://www.frenchrivieratraveller.com/Nice_to_Monaco/Villefranche.html
[2] http://www.frenchrivieratraveller.com/Nice/Sights/Museums.html
Thursday, 19th May 2011. The Barcelona taxi driver being told that we wanted to go to Moll D’addosat, asks the one word question I could understand.
“Brilliance?”
“Si” I answered in my best Spanish.
‘Brilliance of the Seas’ our ship and destination of our long awaited 12 day cruise was the object of his question and I understood immediately that he was not unfamiliar with one of Barcelona’s main sources of income – foreigners going on Mediterranean cruises.
It had taken ten years after our first discussion about going on a cruise, to finally make the reservation. Family duties and work obligations always seemed to make the timing unsuitable. Now both retired, nothing stood in our way.
Duly arriving at the port alongside the huge ship, our tummies fluttering with excitement, like children on the last day before the holidays, we were discharged, along with our soon to be fellow passengers from hundreds of black and yellow cabs, like bombs falling in a ‘stick’ from a WWII bomber.
I looked at the taxi’s meter, counted out the requisite amount of Euros and in my now impeccable Spanish said “Gracias” with just the right amount of tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth to ensure perfect pronunciation.
We, and our fellow travelers were relieved of our heavy luggage by a bevy of porters who wrote our cabin details, which I knew, having pre-registered online, starting twelve days of having every request granted graciously and immediately. Going through sliding doors we were swallowed, like Jonah, into the enormous hall. Our excitement rose as we encountered uniformed staff ready to guide us through the embarkation procedure.
We were shepherded into a maze of ropes similar to those at most airports. At a desk about 100 meters in length sat numerous, mostly young, men and women, taking our names and checking us off the list - all computerized, of course.
“Good afternoon, welcome to the ‘Brilliance of the Seas’. Your passports, please.”
I handed over our Israeli passports, used to pre-register online, although we also have British passports - to facilitate our all too infrequent travels in Europe.
I was then asked for my Visa card. Our credit card details were fed into the system and like royalty, we would need no money for the entire twelve days, as everything could be charged by producing our blue ‘Sea-pass’ card, a combination of identity document, room key and of course, unlimited credit. Gambling bores me more than somewhat, but had I been a gambler, I could have used my ‘Sea-pass’ card to buy U.S. $2000 of casino chips every day!
The very efficient procedure ensured we were on board in a very short time, no more than fifteen minutes and being shown to our cabin, but not before the ship’s photographer took a picture of everyone boarding, available for the ‘low’ price of $19.90! Photos would be taken on various occasions, mostly when leaving the ports of call and at special functions. Albums of the entire cruise were available for $399.00. What a bargain!
It may be clichéd, but there is no way to describe the accommodation, other than as a ‘floating hotel’. The cabin was not large, but had more than ample space, with a double bed, two-seater couch, television, mini-fridge, dressing-table with large mirrors – fit enough for use by a movie star – a hair dryer and electrical connections for both European and American appliances. The ablution facilities consisted of an ‘airplane’ flush toilet, and a shower in which young supple honeymooners would have enough room to make whoopee. Unfortunately, although Jill and I feel and sometimes act like newlyweds, our bodies are not as limber as they once were.
Refreshments were available on the eleventh of the thirteen decks. From now until our departure we would not have to go further than an elevator ride to find a quantity and variety of food, that when confronted by television pictures of hungry millions, should be considered sinful. However, one does what one can to help the less fortunate, and I thank God daily for my good fortune.
As the ship sailed we stood at windows, it was too cold to venture out, and Barcelona receded into the distance. The captain made an announcement, in English, welcoming us all on board his ship and told us that a mandatory emergency drill would take place and to refer to the number on our Sea-pass card to ascertain our station. The announcement was then made in several other languages. Although the majority of the passengers were English speaking - if one includes those from the U.S.A. - multiple languages were spoken.
The crew had been gathered from about forty-two countries across the globe, from China, South East Asia, India, the West Indies, and places closer to home such as Turkey. Although harmony mostly prevailed, we found out by chatting to staff that tensions between members of the crew did occasionally arise. We learned that ethnic and language groups tended to form cliques, but crew, were assigned cabins for two, without consideration of nationality. Perhaps the peoples of the world could live together in relative peace if we considered our planet one big cruise liner?
The drill completed and all the passengers dismissed, we made our way to our cabin. We had not yet received our suitcases so we sat on the bed and relaxed.
Jill as always the worrier, remarked, “I hope they haven’t lost our luggage.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied, “they’ve got a whole shop of everything we need from underwear to tuxedos. We’ll get a new wardrobe for nothing if we should be so lucky.”
Jill wasn’t impressed and gave me a dirty look but accompanied by a smile. After forty years she is slowly getting used to my strange sense of humor. Someone knocked on our door.
“One moment please,” Jill shouted out.
I opened the door to find a young man obviously from the Indian subcontinent standing at the door.
“Come in, please,” I said.
“I am your cabin attendant, my name is Lalith,” he said offering me his business card. “You can get me at anytime day or night by dialing the number on the card. Anything you need please ask and it will be my pleasure to help.”
We all shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you Lalith, where are you from?”
This question would be asked many times of both crew and fellow passengers during the voyage.
“Bombay,” he replied, using the more familiar name for Mumbai.
We introduced ourselves as being from Israel. To quiet Jill’s anxiety I asked when our luggage would be delivered. We need not have worried, as our luggage soon stood outside all the cabins, including ours in a line, like soldiers on parade, early enough for us to have a change of clothes for dinner.
Lalith was true to his word. We asked and he delivered every request from little cartons of milk for Jill, which she needs from time to time for a digestive problem to additional towels, for me to rest my head at night, instead of the very puffy cushions provided. The cabin attendants, waiters, assistant waiters and headwaiters (Maitre D’) work on a gratuities basis. Whether this is fair or not is difficult to decide, but it does ensure that no request goes unanswered.
Good food and plenty of rest are a priority on any holiday, so we made a quick tour of the ship, through the dining room to find our table, the buffet dining room, the ‘Seaview Café’ where food is available until 2.00 a.m. We quickly estimated that food was available at no extra charge, twenty-four hours a day. However between 2.00 a.m. and 5.00 a.m. one paid $ 3.95 for room service.
The rock climbing wall, interesting, but it made my already spinning head, as a result of a recent minor stroke, positively reel, the putt-putt golf course, which we wanted to try out but due to a full schedule, we will leave for our next cruise – when we win the Lotto, of course. Various lounges, bars, eateries – not ‘free food’ so why bother- and coffee bars. A casino with multiple slot machines - formally ‘one-arm bandits’, but now all push button, digitally controlled. A shop with necessities, soap, toothpaste etc., as well as luxuries, watches, jewellery, expensive cosmetics and perfumes, hard liquor, and the ubiquitous mostly useless, kitsch souvenirs.
We were booked for dinner at 6.30 p.m. – all times in American, to cater to the majority – so we retired to our cabin to clean up for our first sit down full service meal. We dressed casual but smart, no denim jeans, but also no tie, and made our way to the dining room. The maitre d’ showed us to our table. Already sitting were two couples also of mature years. We introduced ourselves. Ellen, a retired schoolteacher, and Bill, a retired engineer, from Cincinnati, who were celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary, but were both only 68 years young, and Elsie and Alistair, British ex-pats who live near Alicante in Spain, and had been married to each other for twenty-five years, but for both it was the second time around. One evening we were discussing how long each couple at the table had been married. When Ellen heard that Elsie and Alistair had been married previously she suggested adding the total number of years together, so as to get nearer to her and Bill’s golden number or even the modest forty that Jill and I were celebrating. Elsie’s face turned sour, as if the food suddenly tasted bad.
I remarked, “By the look on her face, Elsie doesn’t seem to think that’s such a good idea.”
“Too right,” replied Alistair.
We usually only met at dinner, and it was fascinating that even though we apparently had nothing in common, we shared very pleasant evening meals. The conversation never lagged and we had many good laughs. Perhaps knowing it is very unlikely you will ever meet again, removes inhibitions.
Elsie had an adult daughter from her first marriage, who was apparently married without children and financially well off. Elsie and Alistair had lived in Spain for about fifteen years and having no grandchildren had wisely decided to enjoy spending as much of their money as possible. Despite Elsie having a dickey ticker, she was still reasonably healthy. This was their fifth or sixth cruise, and here were Jill and I thinking this is a ‘once in a lifetime’ adventure. There were many veteran cruisers on the ship.
Elsie was real character and she and Alistair, had travelled to Egypt several times where she had once bought a questionably legal ancient artefact from a ‘friend’, and had nearly been caught, selling it later on E-bay for a good profit. They had sailed the Nile on a riverboat, à la Murder on the Nile by Agatha Christie. During this journey their cabin had been robbed, but Elsie was brave or maybe foolish enough to confront the perpetrators and get justice. Elsie and Alistair had a touch of mystery about them and in a moment of wild fantasy, I imagined they could be on Scotland Yard’s wanted list.
Our waiter, Fatin, was Turkish and his assistant Kateryna was from the Ukraine. On the first evening Fatin recommended the ‘medallions of pork’. Jill and I replied that we did not eat pork.
“Where are you from?” asked Fatin.
“Israel,” we replied.
“I’m a Moslem and don’t eat pork either,” replied Fatin.
On the many times we introduced ourselves as Israelis, we sometimes got an expression of surprise, as few of our fellow passengers had ever met an Israeli, encouragement, but never a negative response. Alistair, our table companion went as far as to say that he thought Israel usually ‘got a raw deal’. It is apparent that we Israelis are perhaps more than a little paranoid.
Friday 20th May we awoke in the morning to the sounds of action outside our porthole. We looked out and saw a lifeboat being lowered passed our window. Later we saw three or four of these craft, in the water. We knew that at Villefranche-sur-Mer[1] our port of call for the day there was no quay. All those who wanted to go ashore would do so in little boats.
Villefranche-sur-Mer is very near to Nice[2], not far from Cannes, where the Film Festival was in full swing and Monte Carlo, which was due to hold as the Monaco Grand Prix Formula I race the following week. Those who did go ashore told us the place was crowded and noisy as the track was being prepared. Just as well we stayed on the quiet ship as we hate crowds and I have become extremely sensitive to noise. Anyhow, looking at the prices of the shore tours, one needs very deep pockets. Jill and I don’t like organised tours. Galloping after a guide holding up an umbrella or numbered paddle and then waiting for the stragglers to catch up before the explanations begin seems pointless. With the Web or one of the many travel books one gets more background than even the best tour guide can impart in the brief explanations usually given. I go on holiday to rest, not to exhaust myself playing ‘follow my leader.’
I had spent about three months prior to our trip reading the Internet and printing out any information I thought I could use. I always try and find places of Jewish interest, as I feel, ‘if you’ve seen one church, you’ve seen them all.’ The one exception I made was Ravenna, but more of that in due course.
I had intended to go ashore at Villefranche-sur-Mer to buy a French baguette and visit the Chagall, Matisse and Fine Arts Museum. I had last been to France in 1972 and this very French staple has remained imprinted in my taste buds ever since. I decided against going ashore as I had not pre-arranged transport, a fact I later learned was not necessary and I was feeling quite tired. The very early morning flight, the previous day to Barcelona; we left home at about 3.00 a.m., and it had taken some twelve hours before we were able to rest; had left me physically exhausted. I decided to stay on board, by no means a hardship, with all the food and a very comfortable bed on which to have my afternoon shlof. Also the next day we were to call at Livorno, where my research had shown a rich Jewish history with a small but vibrant community. My only concern was that it would be a Shabbat and I did not want to intrude, by visiting the shul during services.
I sat in a window with my sketchpad and for the first time in several years drew. The village in front of me was at the end of a carpet of blue water, but too many buildings dotted the once thick verdant hillside. I’m sure the residents of this seemingly quiet paradise would not agree with me, but expanding human populations overrun much idyllic nature.
That evening we sat on the deck adjacent to the buffet dining room, drinking tea and hot chocolate, available at all hours day and night. A couple sat down and we started talking. Fred and Marlene were from Cape Town in South Africa, and it soon became apparent they were what we termed Coloureds, people of mixed race, or of Malay descent. When we lived in South Africa they were in the middle, status-wise, Whites, Coloureds, and then the Blacks. Fred told us that they were still, as he put it ‘the meat in the sandwich’ but now the sandwich had been turned upside down. It was the first time either Jill or I had ever had a conversation with non-White South Africans. Fred had worked for the German consulate in Cape Town, learning German by osmosis and his wife had raised their children, all of them had done very well. Although we saw them from time to time we didn’t get a chance to talk to them again, a pity, because we could have learned about a South Africa we never knew.
To be continued………………………………
[1] http://www.frenchrivieratraveller.com/Nice_to_Monaco/Villefranche.html
[2] http://www.frenchrivieratraveller.com/Nice/Sights/Museums.html
