Home is the Hunter, Home from the Hill

We rolled off the plane at 2:30pm May 21, 2007, world-wise and sleep deprived. After being away for 5 weeks Vancouver has never looked so good. We are late bloomers when it comes to 'real travel', waiting until ages 63 and 61 to cross the big pond, and this did hamper our enjoyment somewhat. Thanks to our daughter's hospitality and Princess Cruise lines we eased into this globe-trotting lifestyle gradually.

Week 1: Glasgow, the centre of our universe now that our only child has emigrated to the land'o'heather, men in skirts, and funny musical instruments. The air moves faster in Glasgow, and always has a hint of damp or promise of damp. The west end, University of Glasgow district, is a step back in time to 4 story walk-up-flats with ancient stone steps, indoor laundry drying facilities hoisted to the ceiling by pulley, and indoor storm doors which indicate that winter winds are not stopped by the outer entrance door. After 24 hours in Glasgow one has an urge to start wearing period clothing as our blue jeans and jumpers seem out of keeping with the surroundings.

Thanks to the hop-on / hop-off bus tours we were able to see most of the 'sights' from the outside and this was enough to make us commit to another trip to cross the threshhold and see what is inside. One stop that we made which is worth a thousand words, but I won't go that far here, is the Kelvingrove Museum.

This is a national treasure, a storehouse of Scottish History, Architecture, Music (from the outstanding pipe organ concerts held at noon), and a fabulous restaurant that serves a Smoked Haddock chowder that is TO DIE FOR !! If I could have done it politely, I would have ordered a 2nd serving but good manners prevailed.

Two days before we left we took a train trip to Edinburgh for a visit to the Castle, and a memorable pub lunch where I bit-the-bullet and ate my first Haggis with Neaps'n'Tatties as a side. When growing up in Saskatchewan this dish was christened "potrots" by my Aunty Mary who came up with the strange foreign sounding name to entice me to eat my veggies.

After spending our week in Glasgow we said farewell to our daughter and hailed a cab for Central Station and the Prestwick Airport and Ryan Air. I must give Ryan Air a plug here, every one of our flights arrived EARLY - now when is the last time a North American airline could make that boast.

But I digress, Onward to Venice via Trevesio. The Trevesio airport is nestled at the foot of the Italian Alps and surrounded by fertile agricultural lands. The wonderful shuttle driver who met us at the airport with his SUV and a smile, greeted us warmly with what turned out to be the bulk of his English language skills " Venice Port? Princessa Dock? Come. From then on our questions were answered with a smile and a shrug. However, the drive was interesting as the road was bordered with magnificent estate homes, gated and walled in most cases but allowing a quick view into the courtyard if traffic slowed down. On returning home I find that this area is home to a number of Italy's multi-millionaires.

The Emerald Princess was waiting for us.

There was no line-up at check-in so we were directed to the Preferred Booking desk and whisked through in minutes. Our first impression "what a monster ship" It is HUGE ! And miracle of miracles, our suitcases were sitting outside our door when we arrived at our room - another first.