This article was written by Cam with help from Meg and Claude AI. All photos are ours.

A previous post covers Part I of this cruise, the departure and visits to Seville, Cadiz, Gibraltar and Malaga.

Overnight, the ship sailed from Malaga to Cartagena. This is one of the things we love about cruising. You go to bed and wake up in a new port. Explore all day, then come back, rest a bit and eat dinner. There are shows and performances in the evening as the ship departs. Then off to bed. Rinse and repeat. No days spent travelling from A to B. It works for us, your milage may vary.

Off to Cartagena Spain

There are Roman ruins and then there are Roman ruins. Cartagena belongs firmly in the second category. The kind that stops you mid-step and recalibrates your sense of what old actually means. The Roman theatre, built in the first century BC and capable of seating thousands, is dramatic in the way that only genuinely intact things can be. This is not a field of suggestive rubble requiring interpretive signage and a generous imagination. The semicircle of stone seating rises in tiers as it always did, the stage area below it still readable as a stage. The whole structure sitting in the middle of a modern Spanish city with the quiet authority of something that has simply outlasted every argument for its removal. 

We moved through it slowly, the way you do when a place earns that kind of attention. I found myself thinking of all the Roman remains I have encountered across my travels, these ranked among the finest. Not merely for their age, but for the completeness with which they communicate the life that once filled them.

It’s About the Food…Always

Back on the ship that evening, we skipped the dining room for the buffet. Not any buffet, an Indian buffet. We were told the kitchen approached this meal with seriousness. That was evident. The spices were present in the way they should be — not gesturing toward authenticity but delivering it. The kind of depth of flavour that takes time and knowledge and must be done by the right hands. It brought back the subcontinent directly and without apology, the aromas alone enough to transport back. There is a particular pleasure in finding food that does not hedge. Food that commits fully to what it is trying to be. This was that. After a day spent among the achievements of one ancient civilisation, it was deeply satisfying to sit down to the cuisine of another. It was a wonderful meal.

Alicante

Castillo (Castle) de Santa Bárbara sits high above Alicante on a bare rocky outcrop, and it earns its position. The views from the defensive battlements take in the whole curve of the bay. The white city below, and the Mediterranean stretching away to the horizon. It is a fortress that has seen Carthaginians, Romans, Moors, and Spaniards. That is a lot of generations, empires, dynasties and more.  It wears its long history with the blunt indifference of stone that has simply endured. We were glad to have visited. But the castle, if we are being honest, was merely the opening act of our day.

Azamara’s White Night – A True Show Stopper

Azamara makes no secret of its White Night party. It is spoken of aboard ship with the particular reverence that travellers reserve for experiences they have heard about but not yet had. A promised evening that risks, as all promised evenings do, the possibility of falling short. It did not fall short. We dressed in white, as everyone else had, and stepping out onto the deck that evening it was immediately clear that the ship had transformed itself. The guests had risen to the occasion collectively and the effect was genuinely glamorous — hundreds of people in white against the warm Mediterranean night, the ship lit and festive, the sense that something worth remembering was about to unfold.

The dinner that preceded the party was, without qualification, among the finest buffets either of us has encountered at sea or on land. To call it abundant feels inadequate. Lobster, tempura shrimp, sashimi, lamb — the table seemed to extend in every direction, each turn revealing something else that had no business being as good as it was. But it was the crêpes Suzette that settled the matter. Prepared properly, finished in flame, the caramelised orange and butter sauce doing exactly what it should — they were the best I have ever eaten. Not the best on a ship. The best, full stop. The sheer variety and generosity of the evening defied any single attempt to summarise it; it was the kind of meal you keep returning to in conversation for days afterward, each of you remembering something the other had forgotten. Then the pool deck opened, and the real party began.

Dinner Was Only A Warm Up

There is a particular joy in line dancing. We attended a class prior to the party, to learn the moves the dance team would do. Joining in, we felt as if we were part of the dance troop, our timing matching theirs. At least I think it did, the free-flowing wine may have clouded my judgement. We limbo’d. We danced. The band played on and we stayed with them, the warm night air and the residual glow of the finest meal of the voyage conspiring to make leaving unthinkable. When the band finally packed up their instruments, it felt less like an ending than a natural pause — the kind that comes after an evening has given everything it had. Azamara builds its White Night reputation carefully and guards it seriously. Having now been to one, I understand completely why. Some things, it turns out, are as good as advertised.   

València

València rewards the visitor who is willing to slow down, and we were in the right mood for it after our White Night. The cathedral anchored the morning — ancient, layered, and self-possessed in the way of churches that have been absorbing the city’s history for nearly eight centuries. From there we found the Llotja de la Seda, the old silk exchange, where a courtyard of orange trees sat in orderly, fragrant rows, the fruit still hanging heavy on the branches. It was the kind of incidental beauty that a city like València seems to produce without effort, tucked behind an unassuming doorway and entirely unconcerned with whether you noticed it or not.

An Exceptional Market

But the Mercado Central was where the day found its true character. Centred on food, it is one of the largest covered markets in Europe. Operating with the unhurried confidence of a place that serves its neighbourhood first and its visitors second. That instinct is precisely what makes it worth the visit. Locals moved through the stalls with the ease of long habit — selecting, chatting, tasting — and we moved among them happily, grazing on whatever presented itself, the market revealing itself as a place of genuine daily life rather than curated spectacle.

We bought lunch before we left. An Iberian ham sandwich on bread so fresh it was practically still warm — the crust crackling at the first pressure, the inside soft enough to dissolve. We took it outside and ate on a park bench in the sunshine, in front of the market, watching València go about its afternoon. It was, by any objective measure, a simple meal. It was also, in the way that simple meals occasionally are when everything aligns — the bread, the ham, the sunshine, the unhurried moment — completely perfect.

Barcelona — Our Amended Departure

That evening, we set sail for Barcelona, our arrival time was scheduled for 6:00 AM. Putting our luggage out before retiring, we confidently knew we would arrive on time. We have on every other cruise. 

Two months before the cruise started, an email arrived from the Ryanair with the particular cheerful neutrality that carriers deploy when delivering unwelcome news. Our flight from Barcelona to Birmingham, originally scheduled to depart at 11:30 AM, had been moved to 3:30 PM. Four hours had been added to our final day. Four hours we had not asked for and did not especially want. Now to be spent wandering aimlessly through a city we were not prepared to properly visit. We were, not unreasonably, annoyed. The fare was nonrefundable, the alternative was changing dates entirely, and so we absorbed the inconvenience with the resigned pragmatism of experienced travellers who know that the airline always wins. We noted it, filed our irritation away, and got on with the cruise.

The morning of disembarkation was to have begun at 6AM, the ship scheduled to arrive in Barcelona at dawn. It did not arrive at dawn. Somewhere in the approaches to the harbour, the fog had settled in with the kind of dense, unhurried authority that cares nothing for departure schedules or carefully arranged logistics. At 7 AM I went on deck to see the harbour. However, Barcelona was nowhere to be seen. 

Whatever Shall We Do?

There was only the grey-white stillness of a harbour closed to traffic, the water barely visible below, the city entirely erased. It was eerie in the way that fog at sea always is — the world reduced to the ship itself, everything beyond its railings simply absent. The captain’s voice came over the intercom just after seven, calm and measured, to inform us that the port remained closed and that we were sitting second in the queue. Then again at half past seven. Then eight. The announcements arrived every thirty minutes with the steady rhythm of a slow drumbeat, each one a minor variation on the same theme: we are waiting, the port is closed, we will update you shortly. The ship held its position and we held ours. Those with early morning departures were simply out of luck. 

Heading to Port

At half past eight the tone shifted. The port had opened. The captain’s announcement carried something that stopped just short of audible relief, and the ship began to move. Barcelona materialised gradually through the thinning fog — the cranes first, then the waterfront, then the city stacking itself up behind, emerging from the white as though being assembled in real time. We docked at seven minutes past nine, but docking, as any cruiser knows, is merely the beginning of the bureaucratic final chapter. No one was permitted ashore until quarter past ten. Our luggage, checked the night before, needed to find its way from ship to shore. By the time we walked down the gangway it was eleven o’clock in the morning.

Under the original flight plan, we would have missed it by a margin too tight to contemplate. Under the revised one — the revised one we had complained about, the one that had felt like an imposition — we had time. Not time to explore Barcelona, not time to sit at a café or walk the Ramblas or do any of the things the city deserved. But time enough to take the metro to the airport without panic. To check in without the cold sweat of a departures board already flashing our gate. Time enough to board our flight to Birmingham in something approaching composure. 

It Worked Out In The End

The airline, in rescheduling our flight for reasons entirely unrelated to our welfare, had accidentally done us an enormous favour. It is the kind of irony that travel occasionally produces — the frustration that becomes, in retrospect, the thing that saved the day. We settled into our seats as the plane lifted away from Barcelona, the fog long since burned off, the city glittering below us in the late afternoon sun, and I thought about the email two months earlier and the irritation it had caused, and found that I had nothing left to say about it except thank you.

As we left, reflecting on our cruise, we both agreed, we were very impressed with Azamara cruise lines. It is not a question of if we will sail with them again, but when. When we book a big trip, each leg is booked as part of a plan that will allow us to learn more. Learn about ourselves, our world, our neighbours, cultures, history and of course, food. As long as Azamara cruises has a cruise in an area where we hope to be, we’ll be onboard for another adventure. 

Thanks for reading

Feel free to reach out via the link above or leave a comment

Cam and Meg 

This article was written by Cam with help from Meg and Claude AI. All photos are property of Cam and Meg.

Starting Our Cruise

Leaving Lisbon and sailing down the Tagus River, past the Tower of Belém. We said farewell to Portugal and headed down the Iberian coast towards Spain. The next afternoon, we entered the Guadalquivir River, passing through locks, eventually docking in downtown Seville. Our ship, the Azamara Journey, is a smaller vessel, with only 690 guests. This size allows the vessel to visit ports that the larger size cruise ships simply cannot get into. We were very glad to be where no other cruise ship could be. 

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Arriving in Seville the Pearl of Andalusia

It was half past seven on the last evening of March and the day was winding down towards night. We stepped into Plaza de España and were lucky enough to see the last of the sun hitting the towers turning everything it touched to beautiful colours of copper and rust. The towers rose above us as the sun withdrew behind them, the long shadows stretching across the curved colonnade and the ceramic-tiled alcoves that lined the plaza’s embrace. Meg hopped into an alcove and there was a theatrical quality to it. 

That night, Seville revealed something else entirely. As we moved into the old city towards the Cathedral, we actually heard it before we saw it. Drums and horns sounded an ongoing beat with chanting also filling the air. Hundreds if not thousands of hooded pilgrims carrying crosses and candles. Their faces obscured, their flames casting long shadows across Seville’s ancient facades. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people lined the narrow streets and squares. The procession belonged to another century.

Walking Amongst the Procession – A Step Back in Time

Figures in white robes moved slowly through the candlelight. At the head of it all, a great float bore Christ carrying the cross, shoulders bent under its weight. The crowd was silent in the way crowds rarely are — and stilled, as though the city itself had drawn a long, slow breath. We stood among strangers and felt, briefly, like witnesses to something that did not belong to us but had generously admitted us anyway. On the ship, many people had spoken of wanting to witness one of these processions. Having seen it, we now understood why.

Our second day in Seville was given over to wandering, which is the only honest way to move through a city like this. We found the Torre del Oro at the river’s edge in the morning sun. Golden in name and golden in the morning haze. We then turned toward the cathedral — the largest Gothic church in the world, though statistics feel inadequate inside it. We climbed the Giralda, a minaret-turned-bell-tower. The ramps worn smooth by centuries of up and down travel. From the top the view of the city showed colours of the earth. Terracotta and white spreading in every direction. 

Inside the cathedral, the organ commanded the space — more than ten thousand pipes. Even silent in the choir loft, it had a presence, a kind of latent authority.

Visiting Historic Bakeries

Leaving the cathedral, and wandering the narrow alleyways allowed us the most unique moment of our visit here. We found a small bakery run by nuns. We followed a Spanish couple through an innocuous door, which had a small multi-lingual sign saying ‘sweet shop’. The courtyard inside had a little counter with a wooden turnstile.  Beside it, a price list for baked goods. The bakery is run by cloistered nuns.  Customers never see their faces – and vice versa.  Clients knock with the knocker and order by yelling. The nuns place the order on the turnstile, the client verifies and then the nun provides a credit card machine on the turntable which you tap. A very modern touch to a very olden shopping experience.

A Mid-Afternoon Pause

By afternoon our travels had taken us across the river to Triana. This neighbourhood is also where many ceramic tile ‘factories’ are situated. We were able to watch an artist meticulously painting trivets.  She was very intensely focused despite the hubbub around her.

Although the Triana market was closed, the open-air cafés were welcoming.  We ordered drinks and did nothing more than watch Seville go about its business. As we did so, golden hour carried out its slow work on the water. After a long day, that felt like exactly enough.

The Real Alcázar – A Historic Palace

On our final morning, we were at the Real Alcázar at the moment the gates opened. The reward was the kind that patient travellers are occasionally granted: quiet. The reflecting pool held just the two of us in its stillness, the palace’s intricate facade doubled in the water below. Later, the gardens unfolded like a series of secrets — jasmine-scented corridors, hidden fountains, ordered geometry giving way to lush abundance. By afternoon, the city had turned its attention to the sacred. Well-dressed families moved through the crooked alleys toward church services with a purposefulness that reminded us we were passing through, pleasantly unmoored, while Seville observed its own ancient rhythms around us.

Off to Cadiz.

There is a lightness to Cádiz that Seville, for all its grandeur, does not possess. Where Seville draws you inward with shadowed courtyards, candlelit processions and the gravity of centuries — Cádiz opens outward: toward the Atlantic, toward the sky. It is one of the oldest cities in Western Europe. While it has miles of beaches, and hotels, historically, the town guarded the harbour entrance. Several forts can still be found around its coast. 

The buildings are bleached, salt-scrubbed and cheerful. The white facades bright in the morning sun. We began at Torre Tarvia, the tallest building in the old town. It has a camera obscura, essentially a periscope – a tube with a mirror and lenses – which projects a live image of the city projected onto a circular table in miniature. Rooftops, streets, and neighbours seen hanging laundry, watering plants and anything else that they do on their rooftop terraces. The surrounding sea rendered in silence, like a living map of a place that had long since stopped being in any hurry.

Nothing has Changed for Centuries

Wandering the old town, we were rewarded in the way that only truly ancient places can reward you. You could tell, moving through its narrow streets, that very little had fundamentally changed here over time. The stones underfoot, the low doorways and the small plazas opening unexpectedly off crooked alleys must have looked more or less like this for longer than most cities have existed. It was not a museum stillness, though. Locals moved through it with the casual ownership of people who have never needed to be impressed by where they live. We moved among them happily, unhurried, letting the streets decide our direction.

In the afternoon we found the beach, and the city fell away behind us. The sun was warm as we walked the long curve of sand. The Atlantic stretching wide and blue to the west. After the incense and the candlelight of Holy Week Seville, there was something deeply restorative about the clean air and open horizon. We both find the steady sound of the surf and the simple pleasure of walking with our feet in the cool sea with no particular destination to be relaxing. I think everyone does. 

Gibraltar – England’s Hold on the Med

Once the ship had arrived, we went ashore and found a city bus to take us to the Rock of Gibraltar. The bus climbed the switchbacks, and, as the town got smaller, we saw the sea pressing in on both sides. From up on the Rock, you have a great view. To the north, the Spanish coastline curving away toward Algeciras; to the south, Africa. Not the idea of Africa, but the actual continent, close enough to feel like a short swim rather than another world. 

The Strait of Gibraltar is only 14 kilometres at its narrowest. Standing at the top of the Rock, with the Mediterranean on one side and the Atlantic beginning on the other, you understand instinctively why this small, improbable place has been fought over for so long. It is not merely a piece of land. It is the hinge between oceans, continents and civilisations.

We needed to climb the last bit and it was an uphill climb. Inside, the tunnels begin to explain themselves slowly. As you enter, rock closes around you, and what reveals itself over the course of several hours is not a single feat of engineering but a composition. Excavations carried out across different wars and different centuries, each generation of defenders burrowed deeper and extended further. Their goal, to find new ways to make the mountain serve the purposes of survival. 

Canadian Contributions to the Tunnels (and Victory)

The earliest galleries date to the Great Siege of the 1780s, hand-drilled by British soldiers into limestone. But it was the Canadian contribution during the Second World War that made us proud. Working under conditions that were by any measure extraordinary. There was the constant noise, the dust, the darkness, the urgency of a war, whose outcome in 1942, remained genuinely uncertain. Yet, Canadian engineers still helped carve out a vast network of tunnels sufficient to house and supply an entire garrison. 

What lingers, walking back out into the sunshine, is the cumulative weight of the place. Gibraltar is only six and a half square kilometres, and yet it contains so much history: Moorish fortifications, British colonial architecture, a population that is neither fully Spanish nor straightforwardly English. Beneath the surface of the Rock itself, this extraordinary hidden city of tunnels that most visitors never fully reckon with. 

Once we finished with the Rock, we found our way to the most southerly point in Europe. Our impression is simply that it is windy.  Our captain had been pleasantly surprised at the lack of wind when we docked; I had trouble standing against it at Europa Lighthouse.  Apparently, it is often worse. 

Málaga

Easter Sunday arrives differently in Málaga than it does in Seville. Where Seville’s Holy Week processions carry the full weight of penitence and solemnity, Málaga on Easter morning had shaken something loose — there was joy in it. A brightness that matched the day itself. The procession that stopped traffic was less a funeral march and more of a celebration, the crowds lining the streets in good spirits, children on shoulders, the floats moving through the city with a kind of triumphant ease. We stood among the throng and let it wash over us before the cathedral doors drew me in.

The Málaga Cathedral is a magnificent and slightly unfinished thing — it has been missing its second tower since the eighteenth century, the funds for its completion having been redirected to the American Revolution, of all places. Inside, the Easter Sunday mass was in full voice, the Spanish rolling through the vaulted space with great confidence and zero concession to the uninitiated. I lasted approximately thirty minutes, following none of it, before slipping quietly out into the sunshine with what I can only describe as the mild sheepishness of a student leaving an exam early. The cathedral deserved better attention than I was equipped to give it that morning.

The afternoon redeemed everything. I climbed the hill above the city, and the path gave way to wildflowers — great drifts of colour along the hillside, vivid against the dry scrub and the pale stone. Below and beyond, the Mediterranean stretched out in every direction, flat and luminous and endless under the Easter sun. After the tunnels of Gibraltar, the solemnity of Seville, the ancient stones of Cádiz, there was something quietly perfect about sitting on a hillside among wildflowers, with nothing between us and Africa but open water and light.

End of Part I of our Iberian Cruise

For now, we thank you for reading the first part of our Iberian cruise. It has been a blast. Our cruise will carry on to Cartagena, Alicante, White Night, Valencia and finally Barcelona. Stay tuned.

Feel free to reach out via the link above or leave a comment

Cam and Meg 

As so many of our trips start, we headed out on a BC Ferry, taking the ‘Spirit of Vancouver Island’ from Schwartz Bay to Tsawwassen. We then spent a couple of days catching up with my mom followed by one night at the River Rock Hotel in Richmond. Being right on the Skytrain line, it was a five-minute train ride to the airport. Check-in was simple and we headed to the lounge for a light breakfast before boarding our flight. Although we left Vancouver a bit late, we arrived in Montreal earlier than scheduled. There were some pretty strong tailwinds. While the flight itself was smooth, we received a distressing email while in the air.

There are two types of luggage – Carry on and Lost

Air Canada’s bag tracking app sent a message to Meg mid-flight, while we were in the air, over Manitoba. The email advised that her bag had just been offloaded in Fort St. John, BC. How could that happen? Then, to make the story even more bizarre, another message came in 90-minutes later, just before we landed in Montreal. It said her bag had been off loaded in Montreal. That’s not actually possible, unless it was in an F-18 fighter jet.

Our bags had been checked through from Vancouver to Porto, so we could not actually lay eyes on them in Montreal. Once on the ground we spoke with two different customer service reps. One said she did not have access to the system, you’ll need to find someone else. 

Thanks.

The other rep said the app was often wrong, don’t worry about it. He then said “you are here and your tag says your baggage is going to Porto; you’ll be fine”. Re-assuring, those words were not. Meg, ever the optimist, decided it would be fine and, although not re-assured, decided to head to the lounge to have a light snack before the next leg of our flight to Brussels.

Arriving in Europe

We arrived in Brussels on time and, once we cleared European customs, we waited for our next flight. It was then off to Porto. As we flew into Porto, we could see why people fall for this historically charming city. The terracotta rooftops tumble down toward the Douro like something spilled and never cleaned up. While seemingly chaotic, it was also warm, and entirely deliberate in the way only very old cities can manage.

Arriving in Porto, we went to claim our bags. While waiting for the conveyor belt to start, I received an email from Brussels Airlines saying my bag had not been loaded onto the flight. They also said there is nothing to worry about as it would be on the next flight. Unfortunately, the next flight was the following day. As I filled out the lost luggage report, Meg’s bag was one of the first to land on the carousel. What a turn of events. As I’ve said, there are two types of luggage. Mine was the ‘lost’ type.

After we checked in, we started, as one should, on foot, exploring the old town, close to our apartment. It was beautiful and, the warm sunshine only made it nicer. Sunset from the bridge was postcard perfect. 

Our Days in Porto

The next morning, on a walking tour, our guide led us through streets that refuse to be straight. We started at Sé Cathedral, which sits on its hilltop with the quiet authority of something that has watched eight centuries of history and yet has not been moved. The stone is dark and serious, but the azulejo tilework in the cloister catches the morning light and turns the whole place warmer. 

On to the waterfront area, the Ribeira, rounded out the morning. The old wine lodges sit low and long across the river in Vila Nova de Gaia. Our guide explained the whole peculiar arrangement — how the port wine was historically floated downriver from the Douro Valley in flat-bottomed boats called rabelos. It is then matured in long warehouses across the water. Porto, she noted with some satisfaction, gets the view. Gaia gets the wine. It seemed an equitable arrangement until you’re standing there in the sun looking across the river and realizing Porto has rather gotten the better end of things. Carrying on into town, we continued to view churches and towers while learning about history, invasions, occupations and coups. 

From there we wound down to the São Bento railway station, where the grand entrance hall stopped us cold — twenty thousand hand-painted tiles telling Portugal’s history right there in the train station. This is either the most civilized thing a country has ever done or proof that the Portuguese simply cannot help themselves when it comes to blue and white ceramic. We chose to interpret it as the former.

Exploring Porto’s most famous item

There are actually no Port Houses in Porto, as our guide told us, they are in Villa Nova de Gaia. The reason, so we’ve been told, is twofold. The obvious is taxes. Businesses have always gone where they can make more money. Paying less taxes and dodging tolls, means keeping more money. The other reason, and actually more important, is heat. The afternoon sun bakes Porto, but is gentler on Vila Nova de Gaia. Thus, the aging process is less affected. 

When trying to determine which Port House to visit, I reviewed at least 15. Big and small. British and Portuguese. Well-known international houses and local affairs. In the end, I decided to head to one that I knew, at least by their product, which I have sampled more than once. 

The afternoon belonged to Graham’s.

The lodge climbs the hillside in a series of terraces, and the tour took us through the whole arc of port production. Varieties, vintages, the slow mathematics of ageing in barrels, blending and more. Our guide spoke about it the way people speak about things they genuinely love, which is to say he occasionally forgot he was giving a tour and simply started talking.

The tasting that followed covered five ports, moving from younger rubies through the older expressions. The room grew progressively warmer as we worked our way along. The LBV — Late Bottled Vintage — was the one that landed cleanest for both of us: structured and rich, with just enough tannin to feel like it means something. The aged tawnies were gentler things, almost meditative, the oak and the years having worked on them until they tasted like a comfortable afternoon in autumn. Mellow vanilla and caramel shone through various tawnies. We drank more than we planned to. Everyone does.

Colonial ties run deep, at least at the dinner table.

Portugal’s deep colonial ties to the province of Goa, in India, left a lasting culinary imprint. Portuguese settlers developed a profound appreciation for the bold, aromatic spices of Indian cuisine. This rich history sparked our curiosity, and we set out to explore authentic local Indian flavors firsthand.

We discovered a charming, family-run Indian restaurant — the kind of place where recipes are passed down through generations and every dish is crafted with genuine care. I ordered a fragrant biriyani, while Meg chose the tandoori chicken paired with freshly baked bread. Both dishes were outstanding, bursting with authentic flavor and prepared with obvious skill and love.

The experience was nothing short of remarkable, and all at a surprisingly affordable price. Truly a hidden gem which made us appreciate Porto even more.

A Day in the Douro Valley

The Douro Valley requires a full day and earns every hour of it. The drive east follows the river as it cuts deeper into the hills, the landscape gradually organizing itself into something extraordinary. By the time you reach wine country proper, the hillsides have been terraced into steep agricultural geometry — row after row of vines stepping up slopes that seem to have no business being farmed at all. 

On our visit in early spring, the terraces were just waking up. The vines sending out the first shy growth of the season, the stone walls still grey from winter. It was beautiful the way serious things are beautiful — not immediately, but increasingly, the longer you looked. As we headed up the hills, the greenery became more pronounced, a clear sign that ‘location is the only rule’ does not only apply to real estate but to wineries also! 

A River view of the Vines

Our river cruise gave the best perspective of all. For an hour we drifted past the Quintas — the estates — each with their own particular arrangement of terraces and manor houses and the odd chapel. The famous names appeared and passed: Quinta do Crasto, Quinta do Vale Meão, others tucked into the hillsides as if trying to avoid the attention. It was peaceful in the way that moving water is always peaceful, which is to say profoundly.

Two tastings followed at separate wineries. Each was distinct in character and approach. Lunch at Quinta do Lodeiro was the sort of meal that makes you reconsider your life. Long tables, local wine poured without ceremony, food that came from nearby and knew it. To wrap things up, the only concluding option was port wine. A 10-year-old tawny. Drinking it made me realize, at least for a few minutes, my problems were first world problems. 

What else is in Porto?

The third day was slower, and deliberately so. We headed out to Foz, on the coast, to see the beaches and the Atlantic. The beach there is long and windswept. It feels genuinely at the end of things. Looking east, there is nothing until the America’s. How daunting it would have been for Columbus, Magellan and other explorers back in the day? 

On the beach, we walked for a while and said very little, which is its own kind of conversation. Heading back into town, the Bolhão market followed — covered, lively, smelling of the morning’s fish and the afternoon’s lunch. It is the sort of market that has clearly been doing this for a very long time and intends to keep going, although in a changed way. In reality, it is a bit sad to see fewer and fewer local merchants. They have been pushed out for hawkers selling to tourists. Change is the only constant. Lunch was fresh, haphazard, inexpensive and delicious. I can only imagine what it would have been like 25 years ago.  

In the evening, for our last night, we headed out to the old town and simply walked. Up the cobblestones and down them. Through squares where people gathered without apparent reason other than that it was evening and there was nowhere else they needed to be. We found a bar eventually, as one does, and sat with our drinks listening to the street noise and the distant sound of someone playing fado two alleys away.

Our final thoughts on Porto 

Porto is one of those cities that doesn’t try particularly hard to charm you. It simply goes about its business — the wine, the tiles, the hills, the river — and trusts that you’ll come around to it. We came around to it by the first afternoon. By the last night, leaving the next morning felt genuinely difficult, which is exactly the right way for this leg of our trip to end.

Our final thoughts on Porto…we hope to come back, but for now, we were off to Sintra.

Sintra

Arriving in Sintra, we made our way into town and wandered through its narrow streets, pausing to admire the extraordinary facade of the Quinta da Regaleira. Without tickets and deterred by the lengthy queues snaking outside, we contented ourselves with taking in its gothic towers and elaborate stonework from the street. It was a tantalising glimpse of the romantic follies and secret tunnels within that left us already planning a return visit.

The decision to stay overnight in Sintra rather than Lisbon proved wise. As the afternoon wore on, we watched the crowds thin dramatically, day-trippers streaming back towards the train station and the city. By evening, the town had settled into a quieter, more authentic rhythm. Finding a place to eat was easy with guests rather than tourists in town. It made the whole place feel suddenly more like itself.

A quiet morning

The reward came the following morning. Rising early, we stepped out to find Sintra almost entirely to ourselves. Cobblestones empty, the air cool and still, the palaces bathed in soft morning light. It felt like a private audience with one of Europe’s most theatrical towns. That magic lasted until nine, when the first visitors began arriving once more.

We spent our morning at Pena Palace, and it did not disappoint. Perched high above the town on a forested hilltop, the palace is a gloriously extravagant confection — turrets, battlements and domes painted in bold ochres and terracottas. The whole structure looked more like a fever dream than a royal residence. Inside, the state rooms are preserved much as they were left in 1910, offering an intimate window into Portuguese royal life. Outside, we explored the sprawling grounds and dramatic viewpoints opening up across the Serra de Sintra and, all the way to the Atlantic.

Farewell to Portugal

It was a vivid final chapter before descending to Lisbon. We would now say good bye to Portugal and board our waiting cruise ship for a journey to Spain. For us, it is not if we will return to Portugal, but when. 

Thanks for reading.

Feel free to leave comments or contact us by the link above.

Cam and Meg

We are heading out for a grand tour of Europe. This trip will be three months. When we tell people we are travelling for three months, we often get blank stares. Some of the questions we get are:

Q: How can you go for that long? 

A: It’s easy. You line up a number of places in a specific region/country you want to see and plan from there.

Q: Is it more expensive?

A: It’s actually cheaper. You only fly out once, so your airfare is amortized over a number of countries/places versus one.

Q: Do you miss home? 

A: At times yes, but we are usually so busy exploring, we don’t have time. We miss family. Video calls are great but they can’t replace in person gatherings.

There are obviously a lot more questions we’re asked but you get the idea. If you have any questions about our travel planning, just ask.  We would be happy to share our experiences.

The genesis for this trip started a year ago, in March 2025, when we were cruising in the Caribbean Sea on an MSC cruise. Looking at what offerings they had in future cruise sales, we started thinking of a Scandinavian / Baltic cruise. This is one area of the world we have never actually visited, unless you count trips to our local IKEA.

Booking a future cruise – you normally get extras thrown in.

We settled on a 11-day cruise at the end of May/beginning of June. The weather would, hopefully, have turned warmer. Given the high latitude, the days would certainly be long. One thing we really liked about this cruise was that it visited many ‘safe’ countries on the Baltic Sea. It was very port intensive, 9 ports in 11 days. Considering the amount of time we would be in port, we opted for an inside cabin since we really were not going to be on the ship very much, other than to sleep and eat. 

During the summer of 2025, I started looking at things we could do before and after the cruise. The highest tourist influx is during the June – August time period. Naturally, that also sees the highest prices. Considering that, I started looking at things to do in that part of the world before the Baltic cruise. 

When is West Bromwich playing?

One of the first things I did was check the West Bromwich Albion football schedule. When you are from Canada, Birmingham seems close to Sweden. Armed with the dates the Baggies were playing, I looked more closely at the map of Europe. Then, one of my regular travel providers offered a great deal on a cruise around the Iberian Peninsula. Starting in Lisbon and travelling to numerous Spanish ports as well as Gibraltar, it was marketed as a ‘Holy Week’ cruise. Easter was right in the middle of cruise and Spain is a very Catholic country. 

The cruise line was one we had not yet tried but have wanted to, Azamara. The price is a bit more than most mainstream lines but almost everything is included. Crew gratuities, drinks and other things, although not internet. It leaves at the end of March, so at the end of the cruise, we would have two months in Europe before our Baltic cruise. Given West Brom was playing various matches at home during that time, I felt fairly confident I could fill our time with new places and adventures. 

Europe is a lot bigger than we think

In Canada, 100 years of history is a long time but 100 miles is not really a long distance. In Europe, 100 years of history is not really a long time but 100 miles is a really long distance. The bookends of our trip were the end of the first cruise in Barcelona, and the start of the second cruise out of Copenhagen, seven weeks later.

Around this time, I noticed a 10-day trip that covered off European capitals. It went from Budapest to Vienna and ended in Prague. That sounded very interesting. The trip started in Canada and included airfare, so it wasn’t an option but it was an idea builder. I looked at travel in the region, both flight and train combinations from various cities. From Barcelona, it made the most sense both price-wise and timing-wise to head to England first. Then we could go to Budapest and start our tour of the European capitals. 

England’s history and sites.

Starting in Birmingham, home of the Peaky Blinders, we will explore for a few days and hopefully see West Brom take on Millwall. Then off to Liverpool where the Fab Four started. Manchester is next, the Industrial Revolution figures large here. Our English phase will end in York, likely the most haunted city in England. A Sunday pub roast dinner is on the menu, complete with a Yorkshire Pudding, or a ‘Yorkie’ as the locals call it. Naturally there is also a York ghost walk after sunset. 

Plans are living ideas and the only constant is change

I was just about to start booking airfares when I met up with some friends at an ale house. The topic turned to travel and someone mentioned Albania and how wonderful it was. I looked up where it was and what was there. All the reviews were fabulous, although many did say you should have gone there five years ago. I decided to add it into the equation and redid my travel plan. A week in Albania and then visit the capitals. It sounds very civilized. 

Then I had another idea. My Mom was born in what is now Poland during WWII. It was occupied and, by birth rite, she is a German citizen. I thought, why not go visit Poland and see what is there and take in some of the history? The town where she was born was cleaned off the map during the destruction of the war, so visiting it was not an option. All of my kin folk have immigrated to Canada after the war. No one is left in the old country other than very distant relatives whom I’ve never interacted with.

I looked at various tours of Poland and settled on a self-guided three-city tour. One area I chose to skip was the concentration camps. I visited Dachau post-university during a European tour. I also visited the Westerbork transit camp in the Netherlands in 2025. That is the place where Anne Frank was boarded on a train to Auschwitz-Birkenau. For me, that is enough for one of history’s darkest moments.

Almost there!

While this was all going on, summer 2025, we were looking for a new home and finalizing our fall trip to the Far-East. Japan, Australia and the Philippines were all calling. Juggling the two trips in my head was becoming a chore and I decided to finalize the agenda, as much as I could, for the spring of 2026. 

Another change

About this time, the cruise line we are travelling with for our Baltic cruise, sent an email saying the dates of the cruise had changed. I was literally about to purchase airline tickets from Warsaw to Copenhagen to arrive in time for the start of that cruise. We normally book non-refundable flights and this would have been the case if we had received their email a day later. Instead of starting in Copenhagen, the cruise would start in Warnemünde, a 2 ½ our train ride from Berlin. The cruise was also being shortened by two days and we would receive a prorated discount.

In the end, the change did not work out so badly. We are now able to visit Berlin for a couple of days before the cruise. We also do not need to fly to Copenhagen, but can take a train from Berlin to Warnemünde. Our planned time in Copenhagen before the cruise will now be a few days after the cruise. We will still return to Canada from Copenhagen.

Where and how we will travel

Our trip will start with us leaving home and travelling to Vancouver to spend a few nights with my mom. Then we will fly to Porto, Portugal. We wanted lie-flat pods for the long-haul intercontinental flight so we booked the upgrade. Yes, it was more expensive, but YOLO. 

A cruise will take us from Lisbon to Barcelona, where we will board a flight to Birmingham. Numerous trains and a car rental will be how we get around England. We timed our departure from the UK based on when we could get a direct flight to Albania. I have since learned that many people actually fly to Corfu and take the short ferry over to Albania. There are many more flights to Corfu with better times. 

When our self-drive trip of Albania comes to an end, we will fly to Hungary and then it is train travel throughout Europe. In total, there will be eight trains, taking us to some of Europe’s grandest capitals. Given the length of time we are on the continent, a Eurail pass would not be cost effective. Our last train ride on this trip will take us from Berlin to Warnemünde. Here we will board another cruise ship, which will take us to Copenhagen.

Returning to Canada

Upon ending the cruise and Copenhagen, we will fly to New Brunswick and spend some time with Callum and Anne who are expecting their first child. Then, some 12 weeks after we left home, we will return to British Columbia. It will be great to get home as the summer weather will be kicking in. Yes, we will have missed some of the familiarity that makes us so comfortable but we will have seen and learned so much. For us travel is not so much a vacation as it is a way to see and explore new things.

Thanks for reading.

Feel free to leave comments or contact us by the link above.

Cam and Meg

In the fall of 2025, we saw a really good offer for a cruise at the end of January 2026. The cruise is one we had done before, LA to Mexico and back to LA. There are three ports of call: Cabo St Lucas, Mazatlán, Puerto Vallarta. Seeing as we were going to be in Victoria for over three months during the long dark winter, we decided it sounded like a good idea.

Once we booked it, we reached out to a number of friends and family to see if anybody would be interested in joining us. My sister jumped on it and booked the same class of cabin that we had booked. Our cabins were ‘guaranteed balconies with obstructed view’. For the extra price, an unobstructed balcony was simply not worth it, at least in our opinion. The cruise was paid for and time marched on until just a week before the cruise.

Guaranteed cabins… You never know what you will get.

One week before the cruise we still had not been assigned a cabin. We called the cruise line and were told cabins can be assigned at any time up to an including boarding. With that in mind, we just waited. Two days before the cruise was due to depart, we received an email from the cruise line offering us a “downgrade” offer. Normally cruise lines, airlines, car dealers et al are interested in ‘up-selling’ you. It stands to reason if you pay a higher amount, they will make more money.

This time, it appears they ran out of obstructed balconies. Maybe they were out of all types of balconies? A quick check online showed the cruise was sold out. The deal they were offering us was giving up our guaranteed obstructed balcony for an inside cabin. In exchange for this, we would receive a full refund of the fare in the form of refundable travel credits. We could use these travel credits on board the ship during the cruise to purchase things, services and anything else we wanted. Any value that we did not use would be mailed back to us in the form of a cheque. The only thing we still needed to pay for was the port fees and taxes. 

How much is a balcony and an ocean view worth?

There is no denying it. A balcony is a lot nicer than an inside cabin. We talked about it for a bit and called my sister who received the same offer. It seemed an easy decision and we both decided to take the cruise line up on their downgrade offer. We were quickly switched over and assigned an inside cabin. Our onboard account now showed refundable travel credits for the full value of our fare. The cruise now cost us less than $200. Whoot whoot. 

Travelling to the cruise ship.

We flew from Victoria to Calgary and then to Los Angeles. Funny thing was my sister, who lives in Calgary, flew from Calgary to Vancouver and then on to LA. You never know what you’ll get with seat sales, points redemption et al. Once in LA, we took the metro to our hotel and met up. Dinner was a Thai restaurant we had been to before and was just as good as last time. On Saturday morning, we woke up to brilliant sunshine and pleasant temperatures. As we were going to be on a cruise ship for a week, we decided to go for a walk along the water. We have always enjoyed walking the Long Beach boardwalk and today’s hour and a half walk in the sunshine was no exception.

Boarding cruise ship

We made our way to the cruise ship and got in line for embarkation. The only way to describe it is like being herded onto a cattle car. This is one area that Princess Cruises fails miserably at compared to other cruise lines. Although it did seem tedious, from the time we arrived at the cruise ship terminal it only took us 30 minutes to get on board the ship. We explored a bit and then had a quiet civilized lunch in the main dining room. This was followed by getting access to our state rooms where we unpacked. Fully exploring the ship came next and then the 3 PM sail away. 

That evening, I decided to try one of the fancy drinks. I’ve never seen or tried butterfly tea before. Princess has made a martini out of it. They bring you a highball glass with the drink in it and a shooter glass with lemon juice, which you add yourself. It changes colours from purple to blueish when you pour the lemon juice in. As I added the lemon juice there was a slight colour change. It was, however really good and extremely potent so one was enough for me.

That evening, after a good dinner in the main dining room, we went and watched the show which was a musical trio that did cover songs from the 60s to 90s. Then, on our way back to our cabin, we popped in and did the ABBA trivia. It was a good decision to stop there because we ended up winning. The prizes you get for winning are mostly symbolic and certainly not life-changing. We each got a little blue notebook to go along with the bragging rights.

Our first Sea Day 

Our ship sailed south into Mexican territorial waters as we headed to Cabo St Lucas. The ship had the typical events for a day at sea including trivia, exercise classes, and various other events. We moved around the ship meeting up my sister and her husband and going our own separate ways throughout the day. One of the events we did was attend the veterans social. Princess cruises normally hosts a veterans get together where they toast veterans.

There were about 30 or so veterans there, we all took turns standing up, stating our names and what roles we had in the military. The majority of the individuals were from the United States and surprising number for Vietnam veterans. It was nice to meet some of them, share some stories and realize how much we all had in common serving in the military.

Not all shows are created equally.

Our first night at sea was the formal night. It turns out this is the only formal night during the seven-day cruise. We were decked out in our spiffy outfits and attended the Captain’s champagne waterfall. It was good for people watching. The champagne they provided, which truly wasn’t champagne, was pretty dismal. We ended heading back to our cabin to get some of Prosecco we had brought on board. We had our dinner and headed to the show.

Tonight’s show was “Encore”. We thought we had seen the show before and as soon as it started, we realized we had. It was a series of songs with no real plot. On the positive site, the costumes and outfits were beautiful. The music and songs were not ones we really cared for. We’ll have to remember if we ever see this show again to find something else to do during that time.

Our first port of call Cabo San Lucas

The ship arrived at Cabo Saint Lucas at 12:30 and came to anchor. This was a tender port and as we were only here for 6 ½ hours was a bit of a gong show. It takes 2+ hours to get everybody assure and obviously 2+ hours to get everybody back on board. There’s really not a lot of time ashore.

To manage the tenders in the most efficient way possible, tickets are distributed on our first come first serve basis. It started at 11 AM. The previous evening, it was suggested to us by our Matre-d, to lineup for tender tickets no later than 10:15. Craig lined up at 10:15 and was about the 50^th person in line. That was obviously a good place to start because he got tender ticket number eight. That worked out well for us as we were able to eat lunch in the main dining room and then board our tender. We were exiting our tender and ashore in Cabo at 1 PM, 30-minutes after the ship came to anchor.

We wandered for a bit and then grabbed a drink at a convenience store. We carried on to the beach. Walking along the beach we noted that the water was not all that warm. As there didn’t seem to be a lot to do, we started to head back to the ship. En route, we came across a little market and tried some homemade tamales. I’m not sure I would eat them again, but it was a great experience.

Street food – one of our favourites!

The tamales were made by a husband-and-wife team. They were served on a plate and you ate them with your hands (they had hand sanitizer you could use – yes I used it). There were a number of sauces in front of their stand, and I pointed to them and asked questioningly “picante?”. The husband looked at the sauces and said “mucho picante!”. I thought to myself ‘how hot can this be?’ Well… it can be very hot.  As my face turned red and sweat started running down my forehead, my travel companions showed absolutely no compassion or mercy. They were all howling in laughter at my predicament. However, with most things in life, this too did pass. Once finished, we returned to the ship and spent the afternoon playing cards.

Mazatlán, our second port of call

Arriving in Mazatlán, we headed on foot towards ‘El Faro’ – the lighthouse. It was about a 15-minute walk to the base of the lighthouse from the ship and then another 15-minutes as we trekked up to the top. There are 336 steps to the top. This is in addition to the 10 to 15 minutes of hiking up switchbacks. It was +26C and humid so by the time we reached the top, we deserved a rest. The views are the best in Mazatlán.

It was a lot easier coming down than going up. Once at the bottom, we tried to get a taxi to take us downtown. 200 to 250 pesos for the amount of the taxi drivers were asking for. Uber showed it would only be about 70 pesos. Unfortunately, no Uber driver would accept the ride. After five minutes of waiting, we started walking towards downtown but before we got off the isthmus, a taxi pulled up to us and offered to take us downtown for $5 USD.

Once downtown, we wandered through the old cathedral and then found a taco stand where we had lunch. Tapping into the GPS my-city app, we embarked on a walking tour of Mazatlán. I cannot recommend this app enough. The details they provide and the consistent accurate routing from site to site and or place you drop a pin is simply amazing. It has saved us more than one argument when travelling in new locations.

New (to us) areas of Mazatlán

We were excited to see new areas of Mazatlán. As we explored, we drifted back to the ship and just before we headed through security, the cruise ship terminal has a few bars. We took advantage of their liberal pours and reasonable prices to have margaritas and piña coladas. Unfortunately, the piña coladas did not live up to our expectations. The margaritas on the other hand were wonderful.

On our next trip to Mazatlán, I would certainly head back to their malacon area and the other parts of town which we only got to see on a cursory level. There is much more to Mazatlán than we had seen in our previous two visits.

Puerto Vallarta, our last cruise port of call

Arriving early in the morning at PV, we headed to shore at 8:30 AM local time. Our plan has been to head up to San Sebastian, a colonial mining town. We could not arrange a trip before we got there, as no guide was willing to take the chance of us missing our ship. Once ashore, we met a tout who is willing to take us for US$320 (half the price of a cruise ship excursion). The guide was very forthright and said while he was willing to do it, it was not a great idea. Simply put we would spend 4+ hours driving to spend two hours in the town. 

We then decided to head into town on a local bus and see what we could find. While riding the bus we overheard people in front of us talking about their planed hike. They were planning to go to Boca de Tomatlan and, from there, hike to Playa Las Animas. We were told that the first part of the hike was over a number of boulders but then it flattened out. It would be about a two-hour hike and then you could have lunch in Las Animas. 

This sounded interesting to all of us so we tagged along with our new found friends. We had been cautioned the tides were extremely high and our hike started with the first sandbar we needed to cross being completely underwater.

We pushed on…but…

Walking a few hundred metres further we found a makeshift bridge that took us from one side of the river to the other. The first 15 or 20 minutes of the hike was lovely. Great views, wonderful vegetation, and gentle grades. Then the ‘fun’ began. It ended up being what I could only describe as a forced route march in the army. We were faced with going up and down cliffs and boulders – in the end our apps said it was the equivalent of 56 flights of stairs. There were scrambles over boulders, as well as clinging onto vines and ropes to shimmy up and down trails. Everyone at broken a sweat and regular breaks were needed to catch our breaths. 

Up and down and up and down and across the waves and up…

At times the ups and downs took us back to sea level and should have been able to walk across lovely, almost deserted beachs. Here is where the high tides again played havoc on our plans. There were no beaches. Waves kept crashing in covering up what should have been the beach. We had the time the waves so we could run across the small bit of beach and jump onto rocks on the other side to prevent getting our shoes soaked. The trail itself was overall well maintained. I am not sure who keeps the trail up, likely locals who are committed to helping. The one sketchy area was two makeshift bridges that left a lot to be desired.

In the end, after two very long hours, tired, and a bit worse for wear, we arrived at the beach of Los Animas. The high tides had most of the beach covered but we were still able to walk on what was not under water. We took advantage of the local beach front restaurants and then hopped on a water taxi to take us back to Boca. None of us question the 100-peso fee to take us back to the starting point of our hike where we caught a bus back to Puerto Vallarta.

An amazing lunch in PV.

Once back in PV, we decided to find another taco stand and enjoy the local street food. Grabbing some adult beverages at the local OXXO, Google maps recommend a small Mexican restaurant across the road. At times, Google reviews can be questionable, this one totally hit the mark and it will be a place we visit upon our return. La Weltita, a small independent restaurant, serving exceptionally good ceviche, quesadillas, and tacos. Should you find yourself in Puerto Vallarta, I cannot recommend enough to eat at this place. The owner is a lovely Ex-Pat who employes locals and pays them fair wages. 

From there, it was back to the ship, with a quick stop to buy some vanilla at a local store. Unfortunately, the local store did not stock vanilla and pointed us to tourist stores. In the end, we visited Walmart and bought some clear vanilla as it is difficult to find at home. We very much having enjoyed our day in Puerto Vallarta.

Two Sea Days en route to Los Angeles

Travelling back to north to Los Angeles from Mexico the ship provided numerous activities and diversion. You could eat as much as you wanted, play trivia, watch shows, watch movies in your cabin, wander the decks. The bars were always open for any sort of beverage you desired. We took advantage of a wine tasting event, the Captain’s, welcome cocktail party, and lounged around in the sun.  

Having done this cruise a few times before, there is nothing wowing or earth-shattering about it. It is a great break from the cool dark weather of Victoria. Anytime someone will prepare all your meals, clean your room and take care of you for a week, makes for a good relaxing vacation. We have booked a future cruise credit although, at this time, we have not decided when or where we will go. There are other upcoming cruises that are booked on other cruise lines, but we are sure we will travel Princess again at some point in time.

Thanks for reading.

Feel free to leave comments or contact us by the link above.

Cam and Meg