Category: Travel

Continuing our tour of obscure European locales which merit your traveling attention, we bring you: Malta.

Again you’re thinking: “wait, I know this one! It’s an island. It’s small. It played some role in World War II. It has knights.” All true, and although the knights are all gone, their effect is lasting.

Located midway between Sicily and Libya at a narrow point in the Mediterranean, and also midway between Egypt and Gibraltar, Malta is the epitome of strategic location, whether in the age of knights, corsairs, or U-boats. The island boasts amazing weather, reminiscent of lakeside: sunny, warm, with a rainy season primarily in the winter, although it doesn’t get very cold here. Befitting its history, Malta is an odd mix of cultures, languages, and traditions. It has some of the oldest standing archaeological structures in existence, an amazing port, oodles (a technical term) of history, beaches and resorts. There is something for everyone here, and plenty of sunny weather to go and do it.

Cuisine is a mix of Italian and north African, with a dollop of recent English on top. The language is unique: it is Semitic, heavily influenced by Italian and French. It reminds me of Italian written by someone on a keyboard with the letter “x” stuck. But since the English grabbed Malta after Napoleon briefly had it, everybody understands English, although the locals all speak Maltese, too. They’re part of the EU, so travel is easy and the Euro is the currency.

For thousands of years, Malta was a simple place most famous as a refuge for ships in its grand harbor. During the Roman Empire, Saint Paul was shipwrecked here on his way to Rome. He converted the locals, and other than that, it was a cozy, sleepy island in the sun. When the Ottoman Empire eyed the White Sea (their term for the Mediterranean) and Rome, Malta became contested territory. This led to Suleiman the Magnificent’s Great Siege of Malta in 1565 (Muchas Gracias to my friends who recommended the book Empire of the Sea!), an epic land battle where a few thousand Knights Hospitaller (formerly Knights of Saint John, later Knights of Malta) and Maltese militias held off tens-of-thousands of Muslim Janissaries, Sipahis (cavalry), cannons and ships. The land battle preceded the great naval battle of Lepanto which left the Ottoman Empire in control of only the east and south, with various Christian rulers in the north and west of the Mediterranean. The Knights built a new city/fortress in honor of their victorious commander, Jean de Valette, and Valletta was born.

Malta resumed its quiet history until World War II broke out, then it played a vital role preventing Axis’ domination of the Mediterranean. A German-Italian blockade brought the island and garrison within two weeks of surrender due to starvation, but it held out, and later was the headquarters for Eisenhower’s largest amphibious operation, Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily. (Great bar trivia bet: Husky was indeed larger–more troops, larger landing zones– than Overlord!).

But enough of all that history! Malta today is a thriving, independent nation. It is a very Catholic (literally) place: the only city where we saw as many churches as Valletta was Venice, and here the churches aren’t museums or art galleries, they’re active parishes! We stayed primarily in Valletta so we could walk around and take in the sights slowly. The challenge of driving a stick with the wrong hand on the wrong side of the road (apologies to my British friends) seemed unrelaxing, what?

The most surprising structure in Valletta is the co-Cathedral of St. John’s, the Knights’ own headquarters. From the outside, it is just another sandstone building, but when you enter, you’re confronted by a degree of baroque extravagance that is hard to fathom. The church was initially rather plain, befitting a military order full of men who took a vow of poverty. But as the Knights accrued wealth in their military campaigns, they donated it to the order, which kept adding to the opulence in their headquarters. This was the result:

The many side chapels belong to the national groupings and were decorated by them. The entire floor of the chapel comprises Knights’ burial plaques :

Finally, I can’t depart without showing Caravaggio’s Beheading of John the Baptist, a legendary work of chiaroscuro located in the Oratory:

Malta’s other military endeavor is also well represented by the Lascaris War Rooms, a series of underground bunkers which the Allied forces used to manage the defense of Malta and later the Sicily invasion. Like Churchill’s War Rooms in London, the facility has been restored to its original setting and is an impressive still-frame of history before the age of computers, satellites, and instant communications.

Belying the notion there is nothing new to see, we chanced upon a monastery housing a group of cloistered nuns who opened their original rooms for tours. . . for the first time in 400 years. Still no interactions with the Sisters, but we got to see how they lived and dedicated themselves for those centuries:

We took advantage of the English heritage to access some cuisine lacking at times back in Mexico: Chinese and Middle Eastern. But we also indulged local flavors:

The nation of Malta includes three primary islands: Malta, Comino, and Gozo. Gozo is the less developed little brother with just as much scenery and history. We took a jeep (no really, a jeep, not a Jeep Wrangler) tour that left me with flashbacks from my Army days, but some stunning shots, too:

There were too many museums, forts, churches, and cafes to list. We enjoyed Fort St. Elmo and rabbit, the grandkids liked the Malta 5D experience with moving seats, wind gusts, and water spray.

We didn’t hit the resorts or beaches, but there were numerous ones to visit. I think water sports in general are a big thing here, and there are many small boat/sail tours which provide a day of sun, swim, and snorkel. We did enjoy the sights and tastes including rabbit, which comes close to being the national meat of choice:

Shhhhhhh. I’m going to let you in on a secret, but you have to promise not to tell ANYONE, OK? Covid is gone, or should I say, we’ve stopped caring about it, and travel is back with a vengeance. And that means the crowds are back: the tourist buses, the cruise crowds, the extended families in matching outfits traipsing through the museum. Add in social influencers taking selfies as if the whole world is their stage (“isn’t it?”) and digital nomads turning any neighborhood into an Air BnB wasteland, and well, you get the picture. The only thing missing at this point is the mega-tours of Chinese travelers, but wait another six months and they’ll be back, too.

The secret? Oh, that. You don’t have to deal with all of these travel annoyances. And you don’t have to be rich to avoid them. You just have to know where to go, and where NOT to go. The throngs tend to, well, “throng” at the same places at the same time. They don’t do their research, don’t consider their options. They travel as much to say they’ve been there as to experience anything in particular. If they visit a place no one else recognizes, it defeats the whole purpose for them. But this presents an opportunity for the savvy traveler.

A prime example is Slovenia. No, not Slovakia. You know, that little country directly east of Italy up by the Alps? Yes, that one!

It was a small but prosperous part of Yugoslavia until that country broke apart in 1991. It was ethnically distinct (Slavic and Catholic) and geographically compact, so after a brief ten-day “war” Yugoslavia let it go independent. Which was a real blessing, as Slovenia escaped all the bloodshed and turmoil witnessed by Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, et al. Slovenes instead busied themselves joining the EU and NATO, trading freely and building up their infrastructure.

What does Slovenia offer?

First off, convenience. It is centrally located in Europe and easy to get to. It’s small with an excellent road system: you can drive across the country in three hours. It uses the Euro, and because the education system incorporated mandatory English language classes, nearly everybody speaks English. Yes, the place names and Slovenian language are a challenge, but the Slovenes we met were happy with a “hvala” and “prosim” (thank you and please).

Second, it’s beautiful on multiple counts. Like rolling farms with vineyards and meadows? Check. Alpine hiking and views? Check. Pristine streams and lakes? Check. Hiking trails, ski resorts, caves? Triple-check. Quaint villages and local diners? Check. If you like your travel to include amazing landscapes, Slovenia has one specifically to take your breath away.

Third, it’s interesting. The cuisine is a mix of influences: Balkan, Austrian, Hungarian, Italian. The ingredients are very natural and organic: locals are interested in making and having the best of their produce, not labeling it, marketing it, and selling it elsewhere. Its history is Europe’s history. There are Roman, Venetian, even Byzantine ruins, little known World War I battlefields, baroque architecture recalling Vienna, and pieces of Yugoslav Communist kitsch.

Fourth, Slovenia is small-town friendly. There are only about two million Slovenes. Theirs is a developed nation with a rich history, but they don’t care to crow too much about it. Furthermore, they haven’t been inundated with tourists yet, so we’re still welcome here.

Fifth and finally, Slovenia is on sale. Being off the beaten path, undiscovered on TikTok, means prices are still reasonable. How so? Farm-stay bed-and-breakfast with huge breakfast buffet: 80 Euros a night. Dinner for two with apps and drinks: 60 Euros.

We stayed in the karst region, with all the caves, for three nights at the already-mentioned farm. It made for a leisurely pace to visit the massive caves at Postonja and the impressive castle at Predjama, which are only about ten kilometers apart. Postonja Jama (cave) is touristy in a good way: easy to get to, easy to park at, with a dual track mini-train doing the hard work of getting you deep into the system, and back out again, and solid audioguides to explain what you’re seeing. But as with any natural wonder, perhaps it’s better just to sit back and take in the beauty. No “turn out the lights” tricks or claims about ghosts, pirates or aliens; just a pretty, large, natural wonder.

Predjama castle bills itself as the “world’s largest cave castle”: who knew that was even a thing? It is an impressive structure with (of course) a medieval legend about a Robin Hood-esque knight. The tour highlights how the castle, built over and into the mouth of a cave system, provided safety above all else. But it also emphasized how ingenious the builders had been to make the place as livable as possible.

We did a day trip to Lake Bled, which may be the photo op extraordinaire of Slovenia. No doubt you’ve seen the pictures, even if you’ve never visited! The day was overcast with some light rain. We took the traditional pletna boat (rowed out to the island). There is no color/warmth editing in these photos:

You could easily walk around the lake in a few hours. . . you could, we didn’t, as the occasional rain told us to find a restaurant with this on serve:

It only took us thirty minutes to drive from Lake Bled to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. The old city is small and nestles around the river under a cliff-top castle. While the city has modern neighborhoods that sprawl out from there, the center is very walkable with good transportation options, including a free mini-bus even in the pedestrian zone. The influence of centuries under the Hapsburgs shows in numerous cafes and pocket parks. There are also interesting elements of baroque architecture (especially the Cathedral of St. Nicolas), art nouveau, and even brutalist buildings from Tito’s reign.

Sadly, the steady rain followed us from Lake Bled, so we spent the next few days dashing about under umbrellas and rain jackets. Happily, there are many (many) cafes and bars to duck into for a forced cappuccino or Aperol Spritz!

The old town area is achingly cute. You can barely turn a corner without seeing something quaint: a museum, a restaurant, a curio shop.

Slovene cuisine tends toward meat (especially sausage and game) and potatoes, although I did find a restaurant with pizza rolls in the menu, a sure sign of highly refined culinary culture!

There are a number of good museums covering music, art, natural history, national history and the like.

Ljubljana was a real winner in our book. Good food, great scenery, and a walkable environment. We met service staff that were very friendly, and others who were bored with their jobs. Tipping is minimal here, so perhaps that plays a role. Three days is a good visit, and that leaves you time to visit the natural beauty of the coast, the vineyards, the lakes, and of course the mountains.

But go soon, as Slovenia keeps popping up on travel sites as one of the next big things!

Most travelers either have gone, or someday plan to go, to Italy for the Big Three: Roma, Firenze (Florence), and Venezia (Venice). We’ve done it, and highly recommend it, staying at least three days in Rome, two in Florence, and one night in Venice. Such a visit is fairly easy to accomplish, with easy access to either end from international airports, and excellent train connections between them. And of course all three welcome tourists, although Venice has become a little more circumspect of late. It is well worth it, and each city presents unique and complementary aspects.

But I’m blogging today on a different kind of Italy visit: getting off the well-trod path of the Big Three and seeing the Italian countryside in a more personal, less touristy way. You can pick almost any region of Italy to do this kind of visit, but we’re staying in Tuscany, so that’s the example I will use.

What makes this kind of slow, local travel more interesting? First off, it’s the absence of the checklist effect. You know, the Rome? Colosseum: check. Vatican museum: check. Forum: check. And so on until you can’t remember what-you-saw-where or what-you-ate-when. The funny thing about staying in a small village or region is that there will still be nice museums, great restaurants, amazing views, friendly locals, cozy enotecas (wine bars) and pizzerias. You might not be at the one everybody else is doing TikTok videos from, but the one you’re at will be (1) less crowded, (2) less expensive, and (3) just as good.

The interesting thing about staying local in Italy is nearly every region, every village, has something interesting to do and very good places to eat. Italians take pride in how they live, and that extends to all aspects: a bad restaurant is an affront to the village, not just the owner. And as any Stanley Tucci fan knows, every region has unique local cuisine that must be tried and enjoyed. So don’t fret about staying in an out of the way place: it will be great!

But where to stay, if you’re not in a tourist-friendly hotel chain near the center of a big city? I’d recommend choosing either a castle-stay or an agriturismo. Many entrepreneurs have renovated castles, keeps, or watchtowers into boutique hotels in Italy, and they are comfortable and available. They might be a little on the expensive side: you’re paying extra for the experience. And you might have to carry your bags across the moat. But then again, you’ll be able to complain about having to carry your bags across a moat. Who gets to do that?

As to agriturismos, these are government-regulated farm stays. To qualify for the government funding, the property must be an active farm which provides some measure of room and board. There are such farms which welcome you to join in the chores, and many more with a bed-n-breakfast(+) design. You’ll get farm-fresh meals, cozy accommodations, and a chance to meet real locals. While there are a wide range of prices, they can be very affordable.

Once you’ve selected a region and settled on a home base, now comes the fun part. Ask for local recommendations for things to do and places to eat, and limit how far you’re willing to drive. Did I mention driving? Many caution against driving in Italy, and I fully understand why. But that prohibition stands mostly for the big cities. Italian drivers are aggressive (not dangerous, just not defensive), city streets are narrow, parking is limited, gas is expensive, and there are ZTLs (Zona a Traffico Limitato): places where only registered locals can drive, where you as a tourist can get a big fine. But to get around the countryside, driving is fine. Here in Tuscany, the local roads are wind-y, narrow, and full of cyclists. Car trips take time, and the driver doesn’t get to enjoy the beautiful scenery as he/she dodges italianos bent on breaking a personal best on their Colnagos. Remember, the town, castle, or restaurant two hours away is probably no better (just different from) the one five minutes away. Stay at home and visit, and limit the driving.

Now go back to the same places at different times. In a week, you can become a veritable local at the village osteria! Or work your way down the village square hitting every local establishment. Ask for different gelato flavors every day at the nearby gelateria. You can drive yourself (literally) crazy chasing after the next-better wine tasting in Italy, since wines like Chianti Classico and Montepulciano d’Abruzzo aren’t that far apart. And that’s just the DOCs: don’t even try to compare vintners within each DOC: your liver will never make it! (I know, I tried).

We’ve stayed local in Tuscany twice now, and it’s been very rewarding. There are those little hang-ups which make the trip more memorable. Ever have a multi-hundred Euro heating bill at the Hilton? Of course not, but if you heat your castle room with propane, you might! But you forgot to bring your servants and firewood to the castle, now didn’t you?

My dear wife has made it her life’s work to eat Ribollita, the hearty (almost a stew) Tuscan vegetable-and-bread soup at nearly every restaurant; she can even discern the differences in which vegetables and bread are used! For my part, in smaller villages, I’ve found it possible to dress up a little bit and not have everybody automatically think I’m an American. . . of course, the minute I open my mouth . . .

You can still day-trip into those more famous places, experiencing those crowds and selfie-stick hordes, secure in the knowledge that when you’re fed up with it, you can hop back in your Fiat, motor off into the countryside and breathe!

My old college roommate (aka cellmate) Creatch and his lovely wife Tammy visited with us last week, and we all went off to see Mexico City, which was a return trip for Judy and me. Some hints and suggestions from a great trip:

Facade of St. Augustine, in Polanco

• Uber works quite well in CDMX. We used it for short trips inside the city, as well as longer trips to Xochimilco and Teotihuacan. As usual, it is cheaper, faster, and more reliable than the taxis. The only drawback is it is still a car on a road, so it is subject to the congestion which is endemic to Mexico City. Which leads to this tip:
• Visit during the holiday periods of Christmas and Easter. Our first visit was with Charter Club Tours during Christmas week, and we learned that while most of the attractions are open, many chilangos (residents of the city) depart for elsewhere, so there is much less traffic. I checked with a local, who confirmed the same happens Semana Santa and Pascua (the week before and after Easter). Both are ideal times to visit.
• The Mexico City metro is extensive, reliable, cheap, and safe. We used it frequently, and at $5 MXP per trip (about $.25 USD, regardless of length) it is quite a bargain. While it can get crowded, we never felt uncomfortable or threatened. You navigate by the distinct symbols for each station, as well as directions (the endpoints for each line), and there are plenty of signs and people willing to help. There are even cars/areas set aside for women and children, to avoid even the possibility of anyone bothering you. Best of all, no car traffic or congestion.
• One thing from which you can’t get away is smog. It’s better when there are fewer cars on the road, but if pollution bothers you, you need to come prepared. And since you’re at 7300 ft elevation, you may feel it even more!
• If your stay includes a Monday, many museums, attractions, etc. may be closed, so plan the rest of your schedule around what you can do that day. The Soumaya museum, Carlos Slim’s art gallery and tribute to his late wife, is open every day of the year, and you can spend an entire day there, so it’s a great wild card to visit whenever you have extra time. Oh, and take the elevator to the top and work your way down the spiral levels (less crowded, easier on your feet).
• We stayed at the Pug Seal Anatole France, a boutique hotel in Polanco. I can’t recommend it enough if it is in your price range. It had great customer service, very comfortable rooms, a central location, and a made-to-order breakfast to die for.
• If you’re going to visit the Teotihuacan pyramids or Chapultepec castle/palace, go early in the morning. It is hot, there is a lot of walking, not that much shade, and the tours/busses start arriving around 1100.
• Xochimilco. What to say? If you don’t know, when the Mexica ruled Tenochtitlan, it was an island city in the middle of a great lake. The Mexica created islands (chinampas) around the city to use as farms, and a tiny fraction of those islands are still around, although greater Mexico City has enveloped them. About thirty years ago, some enterprising Chilango started offering boat rides on the remaining canal, where a family could come and picnic on the water. It became a local custom, and now there are a thousand or more little party boats, and other boats with mariachi bands, floating cafes, floating bars, floating trinket stores, you name it. It runs almost everyday, it’s a tourist attraction and a great party. But it has nothing to do with the original chinampas. We found a private eco-tour using the same type of boat, but it went out of the crowded tourist canal to the remaining farm islands, where Ricardo showed us his farm and treated us to a fresh meal of blue corn tortilla chips, vegetables & guacamole, tamales, café de olla, and horchata. The visit was educational, delicious, peaceful, and supported the return of farmers to the chinampas. I highly recommend it: De la chinampa.

• We were able to attend the Balet Folklórico,a rousing performance of pre-Hispanic and Mexican culture, music, and dance, at the Palacio Bellas Artes. Both the building and the performance are not to be missed!
• If you want to eat at any of the legendary restaurants in CDMX, like Pujol in Polanco, you need to make reservations about two months early, even for lunch. It’s worth it, but you need to plan ahead. There are many just great restaurants in every neighborhood, so you won’t go hungry and don’t need to break the bank.
• Among those “must-do’s” are eating at the Casa de Azuelas in Centro Historico, where Sanborn’s has its flagship restaurant, and getting churros at any of the several el Moro franchise locations. They will check your passport to see if you have before you can leave CDMX . . . not really, but they should, and so should you!
• Also, you must visit the Zocalo, the main square of Mexico City, which functions as a combination of Times Square, the National Mall in DC, and the Smithsonian. It’s huge, and has the world’s largest Mexican flag (which has raising and retiring ceremonies at varying times around dawn and dusk). It also has government buildings where you can reserve a tour to see fantastic murals of Mexican history, and the top of the original Mexica great temple (Templo Mayor) and the crazy leaning Catholic Cathedral. Note for first-timers: Mexico City is sinking (it was built on a lake-bed in a seismically-active zone) as much a several centimeters a year. As you walk around, you will get a vague sense that “something I am looking at is not quite right” which is caused by the many buildings leaning at weird angles. It’s not you; it’s the city. When you visit the Templo Mayor, just know that there is probably no other place on earth where more people have died: the Mexica practiced mass sacrifice daily for several centuries!
• On a lighter note, among the great places to take a break and a picture are the cafe atop the Sears store next to the Palacio Bellas Artes, the restaurant near the top of the Torre LatinoAmericana, and the cafe (la Terraza) overlooking the Templo Mayor in the Centro Historico. Spectacular views for the cost of a cafe and a snack.
• Even if you’re not Catholic, if you just want to understand Mexico better, take a quick trip to La Villa, the suburb where Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to Juan Diego (a Mexica) in 1531. There is a series of chapels and Basilicas there, built over the years, to hold the image of La Guadalupana (named for the hill) which miraculously appeared in Juan Diego’s tilma (or rough native cloak). Ignore the miraculous cures. Ignore the story of the anarchist who tried to blow up the image in 1921, destroying a golden crucifix but leaving the image unharmed. Ignore the fact that scientists can’t explain the image: the tilma should have disintegrated by now, the fact that the image is not painted on, in fact they don’t know how it is “there”, the fact that there are images within the image which are inexplicable. Instead, watch the faithful crawl across the stone and asphalt square on their knees to attend Mass. When Padre (later defrocked) Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla issued his grito to liberate Neuva España from Spain, his army marched under a banner of La Guadalupana. Regardless of faith, all Mexican revere her.
• Finally, in Chapultepec park (much larger than Central Park, by-the-by), there is a cultural center called Los Pinos. It is the Mexican White House, and it is free to visit. The current Mexican President decided it was too pretentious, so he declined to move there and turned the various homes (several Presidentes build their own) into a museum open to the public. Undoubtedly the next Mexican President will move back in, and you’ll have visited while it was still available!

This tourist zone encompasses a series of similar tourist resorts that stretch along the Mexican Pacific coast, from the end of the Baja peninsula down to the Huatulco in Oaxaca. It’s perhaps unfair to call these places similar, since they are in fact different. However, the chief difference is that they are at different stages of development in the same life-cycle: tourist hot-spots.

The oldest of these, and arguably the most famous, is Acalpulco, which became a getaway for the Hollywood rich and famous back in the 1940s. Now it is well past its prime, attracting fewer foreign visitors and having a vaguely seedy reputation. Puerto Vallarta, or PV among expats, is the reigning champion. It has a modern cruise ship terminal and a well-developed tourism infrastructure to host visitors and expats. Probably next in line after PV are the various resort towns at the end of the Baja peninsula, namely Los Cabos (Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo). We visited Huatulco, PV, and Cabo San Lucas.

What you’ll find at all these sites are plenty of the usual tourist development (yes, Señor Frog is everywhere) but even more amazing ocean/beach activities. World-class sport-fishing? Check. Ditto for surfing. Endless beaches with bars, seafood restaurants and palapas? Yup. Whale-watching? Swimming with Dolphins? Of course. Ocean kayaking, paddle-boarding, snorkeling, yes. Para-sailing: yeah. Back on land, there are tours of small Mexican towns, visits to haciendas, tequila and mezcal tasting, and eco-visits to jungles and deserts. There is quite literally something for everybody along this coast.

Not being beach people or adventure-seekers, we visited small towns in Oaxaca and Baja California Sur. We can certify that the cruise tours provided what they promoted: very authentic sites where locals produced textiles, mezcal, or other crafts, and small towns still mostly as they are, not carefully crafted tourist recreations. The rug-weavers we saw came from the same small town in central Oaxaca we visited back in July. The mezcal producer used the same techniques we saw in Tequila.

We did sneak in some adventure. I finagled Judy’s agreement to go whale watching while in Puerto Vallarta, as December is the beginning of the humpback whale annual visit to the bay. I imagine she envisioned changing out the cruise ship for a large boat and watching for whales from a distance. I didn’t bother to explain we’d be in zodiacs, basically large inflatable rafts (with a hard interior) and an over-powered pair of marine engines. While Banderas Bay is generally calm, there is nothing calming about screaming across the small waves at 30+ knots in a zodiac, chasing whales. Judy survived the experience, so I’m still here to blog about it!

Not everything can be authentic!

Sunday found us docked at Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala, so we availed ourselves of an “on your own” bus to Antigua, one of the ancient capitals (yes, plural) of Guatemala. It’s a well-maintained historical site with excellent views of local, active volcanoes. Which is why it’s no longer the capital.

Seems when the Spaniards arrived, they established their first capital on the site of the indigenous palace. Which was subsequently destroyed by a volcano. So they moved to another valley, where the second capital was safely away from a volcano, or so they thought. But there was a nearby mountain with a lake on top. You guessed it, there was an earthquake which unleashed the lake and destroyed the town. So the Spaniards built a third capital in 1541 in another valley, safe from most volcanoes and most earthquakes. Of course, mother nature has a way of making man look foolish, and in 1776 there was a tremendous earthquake which destroyed the third capital, resulting in the final site at Guatemala City (which still stands as of the time of this post).

But the people in the third capital didn’t want to give up, so they slowly rebuilt, calling the town Antigua Guatemala (as in the old capital). And there it sits today, a mix of preserved ruins and rebuilt colonial houses, without the business or industry a modern capital city would normally have. It’s as if the old city was preserved in amber from a date long ago.

It being Sunday, we had scoped out a Catholic mass in what remains of the old cathedral. Mostly magnificent ruins, locals refurbished one small wing of the cathedral as a small parish. During mass, we heard loud cheers and groans coming from the town plaza immediately outside. There was another religious event of sorts: the World Cup Final. The priest even made a parting joke at the end of mass about seeing everyone outside.

Defending champion France was playing Argentina that morning, and the local government had erected a giant screen in the plaza for all to come and watch. Normally weekends bring a rush of local tourists from Guatemala City to spend a day in Antigua, but this Sunday the crowd was all locals, and most of the town was bunched into a corner of the plaza, glued to the screen.

We heard Argentina was leading 2-0 as mass began, then we heard more screaming during the liturgy. We were surprised to learn France had tied the game up, so we grabbed a coffee (a local specialty) and enjoyed extra time and a penalty kick shoot-out. The crowd, which was rooting for Messi & Argentina, grew silent until the result was in. I mentioned to Judy how strange it was to know the whole world (less the US) was watching the same event at the same time, all holding their breath. It was something like the moonwalk, and special to enjoy among passionate fans.

Don’t look for it on a map. It’s less of a place than a state of mind. You’ve been there if you did an ocean cruise in the Caribbean, Central America, heck even Alaska. It exists where a large cruise ship arrives at a small port in an underdeveloped region or country. And it’s always the same.

When Judy & I were hard-working professionals in Washington DC (“working hard or hardly working?”, yes I know the joke!), we tried to get away every winter for a week, usually to cruise the Carrib Sea from Miami (Pro-tip: you pronounce it “car-RIB-ee-an” not “care-i-BEE-an”). We soon learned there was no reason to off-board at the ports, because they were all the same. You walked off the ship and were accosted by a steel drum band. Locals started offering to (1) braid your hair, (2) sell you Ganja (marijuana), or (3) give you a henna tattoo. As we were uninterested in all three, well, why disembark? There were the usual set of excursions, but these too predictably fell into beach-time, water-time, and local customs. We tried some of the latter, but found them more generic than legitimate. I recall visiting a market near Cozumel and buying a “Mayan sun disc calendar” which turned out to be Aztec. Whatever.

If you head north to Alaska, they’re selling sweatshirts, salmon, and First Nations handicrafts. In Central America, its tropical drinks, Mayan art and indigenous clothing. Notice that few things have “made in” labels, because you don’t really want to know from where it came. I don’t mean to disparage the hard work or the opportunity. If you’re on your once-in-a-lifetime trip, enjoy the experience, don’t over-analyze it. And the vendors are trying hard to make a living, souvenirs being souvenirs the world ’round.

We landed in Puntarenas (sandy point), Costa Rica. We were greeted by a xylophone band, a market full of t-shirts and carved wooden tchotchkes, and some restaurants featuring (in English) “Costa Rican food.” We sauntered past in the tropical heat and found our way to the local church. After we tried the locked doors, a handyman came over and opened it up to we could visit. The cafes and shops were barely open, although there was a line outside the government medical clinic. This could have been any pueblo anywhere in Latin America.

We’ll be spared the experience in Nicaragua. The Captain explained that the Nicaraguan government is closing its ports due to Covid. Funny thing, the Nicaraguan government website has no mention of it. More likely, the Sandinista government is engaging in another round of repression, so Norwegian Cruise Lines decided not to send day-trippers merrily traipsing across the countryside lest than run into a protest, a riot, or an insurrection. But we will be in Acajutla, El Salvador, soon thereafter, and I bet it will be eerily familiar.

The Panama Canal is, to my mind, an afterthought today. The last great controversy involving it was when President Carter decided (1977) to deed it back to Panama on January 1st, 2000, which resulted in none of the catastrophic consequences imagined at the time. Yes, it connects the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and greatly facilitates trade, but really it seems to be just a piece of infrastructure, and a really old one at that. Which is precisely why it is a marvel.

The first canal between those oceans was attempted by the French in 1881. They had completed the Suez canal, a sea-level enterprise which cut the sailing time from Europe to the Far East to ten days. Suez was said to be impossible, but Ferdinand de Lesseps and his French engineers pulled it off, and it was the marvel of its age (1869). Then they decided to do the same in the Colombian province of Panama. To understand the difference in terms of difficulty, imagine that immediately following the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon, NASA announced that Apollo 12 was going to Mars. Yes, there was French arrogance involved, but they had already done the impossible, were the best at what they did, and their plans were sound, with two exceptions. First, they shrugged off the disease implications of the Panamanian jungle (mainly Malaria and Yellow Fever), and second, they insisted on another sea-level canal. Sea-level canals are much easier endeavors than lock canals: any child who has dug two pools in the beach sand, then connected them with a scooped line between has basically mastered the design of a sea-level canal.

De Lesseps was a force of nature (he was called “Le Grand Français” or The Great Frenchman), and his renown as the conqueror of Suez made his opinion unassailable. Despite his talent and expertise, despite the quality of the engineers the French sent and the money they spent, the effort failed. Too much graft and corruption, too little respect for the size of the task and the challenge of the jungle, spelled defeat.

The Americans literally rough-rode in to pick up the pieces. President Teddy Roosevelt settled on completing the task as a declaration of America’s rise as a world power. Instead of negotiating with the Colombian government (a notably difficult proposition), he fomented rebellion in Panama, recognized the rebels, and signed an incredibly advantageous treaty for a US-built and operated canal. All of which just left the canal-building to be done.

The American effort very nearly failed. The fact of mosquito-borne illness had just been established, yet the canal leadership thought it just “a theory” and very nearly suffered the same catastrophic losses the French had endured. The American engineers finally came around to the impossibility of building a sea-level canal that had to cross a mountain range (!) and ran parallel to a raging tropical river (the Chagres) which flooded up to 33 feet during the rainy season. Eventually the Americans settled on damming the Chagres, creating a giant lake in the middle of the isthmus, then building locks on either side to connect to the oceans. The final canal greatly dwarfed the original estimates by orders of magnitude in terms of how much digging, blasting, and construction was required, yet it was completed ahead of schedule and under budget.

The Isthmian Canal Commission (ICC) went through several organizational structures and leadership teams before falling under the (eventually) legendary George Washington Goethals, a West Point-trained Army engineer who turned the entire operation into a model of efficiency. Some called the canal zone administration a “socialist paradise” as it was so well-run and so accommodating to its work force. There were stark inequalities between the black Caribbean islanders who did the manual labor and the white Americans who oversaw the work or did the skilled jobs, yet all experienced better pay, free medical care and food, paid leave and other benefits unheard of back home. The administration was not strictly a government: it was more of a giant company-town, where every body and every thing was focused on a single task: digging the canal.

The ICC needed healthy workers, so mosquitoes were practically eradicated from the canal zone, despite it being carved out of the jungle. Skilled doctors and engineers weren’t going to come alone to Panama for years on end, so homes and schools and community centers were built. The losers in all this were the Panamanians themselves, who anticipated a windfall in sales and services but instead found themselves shut out of the manual and skilled labor, and competing with a massive organization designed to bring the comforts of home to the tropical jungles.

The canal construction redefined social, technological and material limits. It created the largest dig, the largest earthen dam (at Gatun, above), which resulted in the biggest man-made lake, using the largest heavy equipment (95 ton steam shovels) and largest steel products (gates). Electric motors, just coming into their own, became a chief power source, and the canal used hydroelectric power to be largely self-sufficient. A fledgling American company named General Electric designed a control system whereby engineers could sit in a single room and see a scale-model with a series of live-controls that managed the whole system. The controls were connected in a way it was impossible to “skip a step” or open the wrong lock/dam/gate (aka “idiot-proof”). The final cost was $500 million USD (at the time), the largest single expenditure in US history, and more than five times the cost of all land acquisitions (Louisiana Purchase, Alaska, etc) of the US government till that point.

It opened in August, 1914, but to little fanfare, as the impending Great War in Europe quickly blotted out what had been an object of intense international attention. Still, the canal functions to this day–108 years on– much as it was originally designed and built. Additional, larger locks permit larger New PanaMax vessels to cross, but the locks, the dams, the mules (trains which pull the ships through the locks) are either the originals or rebuilds to original specifications. It is hard to imagine another working infrastructure project which has held up nearly as well: perhaps the Roman roads/aqueducts?

The value of any infrastructure project is simple: does it work? The marvel of this one is not that it works, but that it was ever completed. The beauty of it (if one can call infrastructure beautiful) is how well it works, so long after it was done.