Arriving in New York by container ship
My alarm went off at 5. I woke up, rubbed my eyes, and looked out the window. Lights! Land!
The captain told us that we’d be passing under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge (which connects Staten Island to Long Island) sometime between 5 and 6. So if we wanted to see the approach, then we’d need to be up by then.
I grabbed my camera, Stephanie bundled up, and we headed out onto the deck. The view behind the ship was dark except for a few lights on the horizon. The air was humid. We climbed the stairs to the wings on either side of the bridge for an unobstructed view forward. The other passengers were already there. After nine days spent crossing the Atlantic, the lights of Manhattan were just coming into view.
Lights of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge ahead
About to pass under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge
We were treated to a stunning “blood orange” morning twilight behind Manhattan as we entered New York Harbor (aka Upper New York Bay). We were also able to spot Lady Liberty, quite minuscule in the distance, before making a sharp turn away from the city and into the narrow tidal straight of Kill Van Kull.
A blood orange Manhattan twilight
Crossing the Atlantic
When we boarded the ship, Stephanie was almost overcome with emotion. She said it felt like she “was home”. And not because we were on our way home—because she was back “on a boat”. There were a few subtle differences from our experience on the Cap Cleveland, but for the most part our ten days on the Hanjin Palermo felt very familiar and passed comfortably.
Traveling with us were four other passengers. Three men had boarded a few days before us in Germany. Two were German, one of whom had always dreamed of arriving in America by boat. The third was a British-born Swiss man who bore a striking resemblance to my Scottish-born grandfather. Finally there was a man from Paris who boarded with us in Le Havre, and eagerly awaited news of the birth of his grand-daughter.
Otherwise we had a welcoming, affable German captain, a spacious two-room cabin with five portholes, and calm, almost placid seas the entire way from Le Havre to New York. Amazingly the ship had two pools, one on-deck just outside our cabin, and one indoors, below-deck, but since they had no way to heat the frigid Atlantic waters, both were empty. We ended up spending less time on the bridge and more at the bow—where we saw a surprising amount of wildlife in the middle of the ocean: migrating seabirds, playful dolphins, spouting whales, and even a shark!
Saturday, August 13
Clouds hanging over the port in Le Havre
Pulling out of the port in the mist
Reaching the outer seawall in the rain
Passing incoming container ships in the fog
Looking back towards Le Havre (Goodbye France!)
Off we go again
A year ago (on Monday) we set out on our big adventure. Today begins the final chapter of that journey. We’ll be returning to the United States the same way we left: by container ship.
Hanjin Palermo photo © Klaus Kehrls
We’re currently in Le Havre, France, and at around noon today we’ll board the Hanjin Palermo (previously known as the London Senator) for a 10 day voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. This time I won’t be bringing along a satellite modem, so there will be no blog updates en route.
Barring any unforeseen delays, we’ll disembark in New York City (technically the port in Elizabeth, New Jersey) sometime on Monday, August 22nd. After three days visiting with family and doing a little sightseeing, we’ll fly to Austin to stay with my parents and figure out where life takes us next.
Update: I’ve posted some photos from our Atlantic crossing.
Bourgogne and Auvergne
From Loriol, we went on a road trip though Stephanie’s family tree. In Burgundy we spent two nights at her aunt’s pre-French Revolution farmhouse (it had been 20 years since Stephanie last visited). In Auvergne we visited the family of a cousin she’s never met (more precisely her first cousin once removed), we toured the farmhouse where her maternal grandmother was born—which is still in the family (occupied by her great aunt), and we saw the grave where the descendants of her great-great-grandmother are buried. Nearby we drove through the town and saw the house where her mother was born. In Provence we spent an afternoon with two of her cousins and their families.
The visits were mostly unplanned, in part due to the weather, which had turned unseasonably wet, thus preventing us from camping (comfortably). In the case of the cousin she’d never met, we literally walked up to the door of what we assumed was their house (based solely on description—we didn’t have an address) and knocked. We were very warmly welcomed. It was the type of trip we’d been dreaming about for several years, traveling deep into central France and exploring her roots, but one that we’d never had the time or the means to do. It gave Stephanie the chance to add pictures to the stories she’d heard growing up, while also rekindling some family bonds.
When the rain passed, we found ourselves in Provence, eager to spend a few nights camping before returning to Le Cannet for our final two weeks in France.
Loriol: Because we’re worth it
On July 4th we left Parma and drove west across Northern Italy, over the Alps (actually “through” them, thanks to the 12km Frejus tunnel), and returned to France to spend two weeks with Jean-Claude (Stephanie’s Dad) and Sabine in their new house in Loriol-sur-Drome, just south of Valence. It was also Stephanie’s first chance to meet her new demi-sœur (half-sister) Gaïa, 8 months old and full of smiles (when not sucking her thumb).
Sabine, Stephanie, Gaïa, and Jean-Claude
In addition to the usual (taking it easy and catching up on the internet), Jean-Claude and Sabine were eager to take us around and show us the area. Over the course of our time together, we visited a lavander distillery just before the harvest, tasted (and purchased) Clarette/Cremont in Die, toured an olive oil moulin (mill) in Nyons, had cheese fondue in Villard-de-Lans (a ski station in the wintertime), toured (and tasted) Chartreuse at the distillery in Voiron, watched the feu d’artifice (fireworks) from their terrace on Bastille Day, and finished it all off with a fête du village (village festival) in Saoù, honoring the local goat cheese, Picodon, a tasty chevre which gets progressively more gnarly the longer it’s aged.
Rooftop panorama of Loriol: clay tiles and satellite dishes
A glimpse of Florence
Rather than take the ferry back to Nice, we embarked on something of a mini European road trip. Departing Corsica from Bastia, we arrived in Livorno, on the west coast of Italy, and drove to Florence (which, by the way, has a perfectly nice-sounding name in Italian: Firenze).
Florentine buildings reflected in the River Arno
We stayed at a campground outside Florence on our first night in Italy, and then spent the next day wandering around the historic city center. In the afternoon we visited the Museo Galileo (previously and functionally the Institute and Museum of the History of Science) to escape the heat. At too many museums I find my attention distracted by my aching feet, but here, even after walking around the city, I was transfixed by the exhibits, which span only two floors of a modest building. We spent several hours reading nearly every display, which were conveniently presented in both Italian and English. Not to mention the numerous video displays scattered throughout the museum, which animated many of the scientific artifacts, bringing an otherwise static exhibition to life. The experience transported me back to an age when telling time at night, drawing a precise map, designing a fortress, and navigating at sea were real, intractable problems.
Panorama of the Florence skyline in the early evening
We thought we might spend another day in Florence, and perhaps a day or two exploring the surrounding countryside (aka Tuscany), but on our second morning we received an email regarding a cheese factory tour in Parma happening the very next day. Parma was only 2-3 hours away, but if we wanted to make the tour at 8am without killing ourselves, we’d have to leave Florence that afternoon. We decided to go for it. So we packed up our tent and took an abbreviated driving tour of Tuscany—which consisted of a superb visit to a nearby Chianti winery and olive orchard. A hundred Euros of wine and olive oil later, we were on the autostrada hurtling towards Parma.
Florence street art by Clet Abraham
Driving around Corsica
Corsica was a great destination for my stick-shift practice. Outside of the cities, we had the roads nearly all to ourselves, so I didn’t have much to worry about other than shifting to match the road conditions, which tended to be narrow, windy, and mountainous. As long as I kept the car from careening off a cliff, we were good.
As you can see from the photos below, they don’t call it the Isle of Beauty (L’Île de Beauté) for nothing. Most were taken from the road between Calvi and Bonifacio on the west coast.
En France, encore, enfin
Like someone slowly unpacking after a long journey, I feel like I finally got to the bottom of my suitcase with that last post about Africa.
Meanwhile the world kept spinning. During our first two weeks in France, we stayed with Stephanie’s Mom at her studio apartment in Le Cannet, a village just north of Cannes. In that time we “bought” a car, ate cheese, shopped for clothes, caught up on internet, washed our gear, cooked Thai food, laid on the beach, celebrated a birthday, painted a bathroom, visited Mamie (Grandma) in Fayence, went grocery shopping, and I started learning how to drive stick.
In short we did a lot of normal, non-travel stuff. We settled a bit and ate a lot. We lived out of a closet instead of a backpack. I believe those two weeks are the longest we’ve slept in the same bed since our 28 days aboard the Cap Cleveland—last September!
France is one of our homes, and in that way, it represents an “end” of our trip, an end to what someone aptly described as our “hardcore travel mode”. True, but in looking at the landscape ahead, the next few weeks, months, even year or two, I only see beginnings.
But we’re not done with traveling just yet! France is definitely about family, but since we finally have time and transportation at our disposal, we also wanted to get out and see some things. Of course the one thing we don’t have a lot of (anymore) is money. So two weeks ago we bought a cheap tent and caught a ferry to Corsica.
Au revoir, Nice
Bonjour, Corse
