30 July 2026 – Day at Sea
Cruise schedules are usually based on a certain length of time for each leg, so
that people can take either a seven day cruise, or any multiple thereof. We were on the ship for a fourteen day
cruise, but we met people who had signed up for anything from one to six
weeks. Yes, the six week cruisers
visited repeating ports. But our
fourteen days didn’t repeat anywhere, and we didn’t visit any cities east of
Rome. I suspect the entire route was
four or five weeks, from Turkey to Portugal, but I’m not positive.
At any rate, the cruise
routes are somewhat geographic but sometimes include a bit of backtracking to
begin and end each leg at a city with a major airport. It’s not easy nor practical to fly in and out
of Portofino, for example, since the closest airport is 25 miles (40 km)
distant in Genoa – and Genoa doesn’t have quite the same draw as, oh,
Barcelona.
All this to say that
sometimes there are sea days as we zigzag between ports. Some people love sea days because there are
extra activities like games, movies, art auctions. Sea days often culminate in a dressy dinner,
so some people do the spa thing to prepare.
Not-so-social people like me find things to do on our own. I usually choose a sea day to do a photo
safari of the ship, where I walk around and take photos of the artwork and
anything else that interests me.
However, Richard and I were
on the Oosterdam for our Mediterranean and transatlantic trip in 2022, so I
didn’t need another photo safari. One of
the pieces of artwork caught my attention, and I decided I wanted to sketch and
paint him.
His official title is “A
Florentian Head,” but he really is Dionysus, or Bacchus, or one of those gods
or demigods of wine, grape, drunkenness, something along those lines.
He’s quite obviously tipsy, with his eyes rolling back a bit, and his
tongue hanging out a bit. Gloriously
goofy, with grapes for curly hair, and grape leaves scattered around his
vineyard hair. An almost dimpled chin,
he’s eternally cheery, grinning happily at guests as they enter the buffet on
the Lido Deck.
It took me a bit to remember
he was on Deck 9, so yes, I was the person who got on an (empty) elevator and
pressed every button. I peeked out at
each stop, and had to explain to a staff member that I was looking for a
particular piece of art. Oh well, we
artists seem to have our own logic that often doesn’t make sense to anyone
else.
I stood in the hallway to
sketch my friend – he takes up an entire wall, roughly 4 ft wide by 8 ft long –
so maybe 1.3 by 2.6 meters? Cast metal,
painted in the aquamarine color of copper patina. (The color of the Statue of Liberty.)
After my basic sketch, I knew
I’d need to redraw my buddy Bacchus in waterproof marker. I’m okay with detail, but watercolor in a
sketchbook is not the right medium for details like grape vine hair. So I happily sat in the Lido eating area, off
to one side with a cup of iced tea to drink, and a smaller cup of water for
painting. (Yes, just about every artist
has either sipped the paint water, or washed their brush in the cup holding
their actual drink.)
Anyway, I had fun working on
my goofy guy, and chatted with a couple of people who came by my table. For me, it was a lovely sea day!
We had three additional sea days in August. On one of the days, I decided to sketch our view from our stateroom, looking out over the bow of the ship and at the flag in the front. The bow flag identifies the country in which a ship is registered, while the aft flag identifies the country is which the ship is presently sailing – just one of those rules of the sea.
At any rate, our ship is registered in the Netherlands, and flies the Netherlands flag proudly. (It IS Holland America, after all.) On windy days, the flag would wrap around the flagpole a bit, so I tried to capture that look.
We really don't see this much of the bow from our window, because there's a deck several feet wide, and a safety wall (metal) with a wood rail on top. I went up to Deck 10, which overlooks the bow and the flag (and where Holland America ships usually have a great little coffee café). I excused my blocking the view to the couple of people reading, sketched the bow and flagpole, and headed back to our room to add the flag, wrapped once around the pole.
I should add that the flags aren't flown while at sea, only when in port. But I liked the colors of the flag against the sea, with the sun reflection tracing a path we seemed to be following. Not quite riding off into the sunset, but it did feel a bit like that.
Gibraltar is officially English, though it’s located on the southern coast of
Spain. Weird, right? Apparently Spain officially ceded Gibraltar
to Great Britain in 1713, as part of one of those treaties during their eternal
wars and hostilities. 
J signed up for a strenuous
hike to the uppermost point on The Rock, as it’s affectionately called. Her photos show the cave as well as all the views from the top of the rock. She saw some of the Barbary apes, but they didn't stay still enough for photos.
enough to remember it nor to do
anything about it. But enough that my
ankle swelled up and hurt to walk around much.
So I opted to stay on the ship and baby the ankle, trying to keep it
elevated.
morning, so the peninsula that
is Gibraltar was shadowed and dark, wreathed in tendrils of mist and fog. Made
for a moody and interesting task, trying to capture the city growing up the
sheer cliffs! Eventually the sun broke
through the fog and changed the entire landscape. Oh well, my sketch shows some of the fog
rolling over the mountain. Although
sometimes it looks like fog to me, and at other times it looks more like
something shiny reflecting the sun. Not
my best work, but hey, sketchbooks are meant to capture a moment in time, a
scene, an impression – and it does that, so I’m okay with my confused fog. 
