Yes, I'll take a pat down.

Okay, I know - I was supposed to write another round of London today.  And I will get back to it - I promise...but I'm just getting too worked up over all these folks bitching and moaning about airport security to ignore it.

I also met an actual airport security guy (let's call him Stew) at a get together on Saturday night - and after chatting with Stew for quite a long time (yes, we all grilled him), I gotta say - people are just stupid. 

(Newsflash?  Not really).

As usual, the media is honing in on the minuscule percent of the population that isn't supportive of the changes in procedure.  As usual, the media is replaying over and over one guy's strange desire to have his pat down recorded.  (I can't say for sure...but I'm guessing he has a mirror over his bed, too).

The first thing that keeps coming to my mind?  Do we not remember 9/11?  I realize it's been nearly a decade - but can you not remember how you felt as the planes went down one after another? 

Or really, just remember the second plane - because that was the one that told the story.  We were under attack.  Before that one hit, it was just a horrible plane crash.  After it hit, it was terrorism. 

Here's what I remember - feeling scared out of my mind and completely vulnerable.  Feeling trapped (I was in Michigan and actually scheduled to fly that day) and wanting someone to tell me how or when it was going to all shake out.  And I remember how the pit in my stomach kept growing - as the third plane went and then the fourth and then the first tower and then the second.  And how that pit stayed in my stomach for weeks - slowly shrinking, yes, but still there. 

And while reality says there are no completely fool proof check points - is it not smarter to set up something pretty strict now instead of after someone hops on a plane with an explosive strapped to their leg?  Why does it make more sense to people to put these procedures in place after the fact?

There's no 'junk-touching' or 'nipple twisting.' There's a reason you stand on a mat with your feet placed in the marked spots.  There's a reason gloves are worn.  There are reasons why the image scanners are located away from the image readers and why you can request a same sex pat down or not - depending on your mood.

Today I heard someone say that there should be an age limit - where maybe someone under three years old wouldn't have to get scanned or patted.  Why?  Because if a terrorist has no problem killing hundreds of people, would they really have a problem using a toddler as their carrier?  Especially if such a limit tells them pretty clearly to  hide any prohibited objects under an infant.

And I really do doubt that there is a mad dash of 'perverts' signing up for jobs at TSA.  I think the more likely scenario is that the new guidelines came out and a lot of currently employed TSA folks went "Ugh, this is going to suck...."

Back to my new friend, Stew.  Stew doesn't wake up wondering who he'll get to touch that day.  He gets up and prays that he doesn't make a mistake. He's very much aware that if he does and sends someone on a plane that is then tossed out of the sky - it's on him. Stew's not patting down passengers down to make them uncomfortable or embarrassed.

He's doing it to make them live.

London, Part I: Really, William? Really??

I went back and forth a bit today about whether or not I'd do my planned blog about our last trip stop - London.  See, I absolutely 185% LOVED London.  Until a little over 24 hours ago, when from London came some rather shocking news. 

Not even from the horse's mouth - but via a newscast.

Public breakups are never appropriate, Prince William.  I mean, yes, I suspected Kate was leading the race to the altar.  But in my heart, my mangled heart, I still held out hope.  So good luck.

Dear Harry,
Hi....


Well, as Eminem would say...Snap back to reality.

As warned, we were kicked of our cruise ship in Dover, England.  Now, on departure day, you are given a specific time to depart - this keeps the groups going to the same places together.  There's the airport buses, the hotel buses, the people who are actually getting back on the ship buses, etc.

My family waited until the allotted time and went to the appropriate bus.  Where we faced a cluster...

Turns out everyone else on this hotel bus dashed out early.  And half of them thought it was appropriate to bring their three weeks of luggage on board instead of stowing it underneath.  Turns out the same half also preferred not to sit with their husband/wife/significant. 

In summary, there was no where for us to sit.  And no one willing to adjust.  Did I mention just how cranky people get at the end of a three week vacation?  Multiply it by a big number.

We finally ended up in the very back row - the one that goes five across - where the middle seat is barely a seat and faces directly up the aisle.  Yes, I'm nearing 40...and I still had to sit on the hump.

The bus ride turned into four hours of hell.  Flanking me were my dad and a guy from Colorado.  Within minutes, both were sound asleep.  When grown men fall asleep, gravity forces them towards the middle.  Where I sat. 

The whole point of this ride is to keep you busy until it's time to check into your hotels.  We did actual circles around London.  Many, many, many circles - but no actual stopping.

Until a bathroom riot.  Never deny 40 cranky people a potty break.

Yes, eventually the hell ended and we were deposited at our hotel.  Who didn't seem to be expecting us so early.  Which gave us a much needed hour to drink a beer, eat fish and chips and re-live the morning.

Now, on my London List, I had three things:

1.  The Tower of London

2.  A Toasted Cheese Sandwich in Borough Market

3.  Harrods

Harrods could only fit in on this first day in London - and had to take place between hotel check-in and our appointment to ride the London Eye.  The window was small and shrinking.  Surely we wouldn't start off this stop with a total strike out?

In a SHOCKER, Mom and I were not only granted our Harrods wish AND Dad would be joining us.  (Yes, I should have sense something strange...).

And, after a quick taxi ride...

We did it!  Now, for those of you who may be thinking, "Oh yippee, a department store..."  No, no...you're so wrong.  This is some sort of mecca with floor after floor and department after department. 

I seriously believe I could spend a full week in this store and still not see everything.

Ah, but the rub. 

Upon entering through these doors to heaven on earth....Dad looked at his watch and said, "Okay, ladies...you have one hour." 

Come again?

We zipped through that store buying whatever we could reach.  I bought Oven Roasting Mitts.  I don't even have a roasting pan.  I couldn't even guess when the last time my oven was on.  But they are so cute!

We snatched up stuff on our right, stuff on our left - a total pay now, figure out what you bought mentality.  And I've never seen such a display of Burberry or Louis V..  Endless.

They even had an enormous pet section - where you could buy actual puppies.  If you had a spare couple grand.  Couldn't be done in our allotted hour.

In fairness to Father Time...our scheduled London Eye ride was at 5pm and after that, a 9.30pm stop at the Tower of London - so I guess the stopwatch was necessary.

Still...Harrods...I'm coming back to you.  Don't you worry.

Consider yourself on notice.

AmsterDAM that's a cool city.

Going from Oslo to Amsterdam was actually a bit of a downer.  Because to get there, we had a day at sea - which meant a day of, "What should we do today?"  Which turned into, "Oh shoot, this cruise almost over, we should start packing while we're killing time in the North Sea."  Yeah, total bummer.

And the ship doesn't even pretend they want you to say because you start getting mail at your door that includes exit tags for your luggage, invoices reminding you of what you bought while on board and details on how they'd like you to leave the ship (8am, promptly after swiping your ship card for the last time) in two days.  Rude...I thought we were friends.  Don't they have any sympathy for our mental state?

The quickest way to Amsterdam is through a lock system (basically this is a stopping point to change water levels - enabling the ship to take a short cut - obviously they were really in a hurry to end our tour).

Never having been through a lock system, I opted to get up at the crack of dawn to watch the process.  My folks had done the whole Panama Canal, so this was old hat for them. 

Here's how I remember it - early, cold, dark and misty.  I also remember the minute I found out that I could have just waited for the reverse show scheduled at 5pm the same day.  Doodies...I hate when I give up a perfectly good sleep-in unnecessarily.

After the museum punishment of Oslo, I made sure to read up on the Amsterdam tour.  It started with the words "Tour of the Reclaimed Land."  Oh boy.  Snoozer Potential.

Wrong.

The whole tour was about how Holland opted to use a windmill system to lower the water level in order to inhabit the lands.  Without the windmills, the land would be under water.  With it, the land is total utopia for plant life. 

I never thought the words "Hydrangea Envy" would cross my lips.  But I did take several pictures to bring back to my own garden - my Hydrangea has not responded to these motivational posters.

We did tour an old windmill - and, yes, they are still maintained by real live Millers (in case there is ever an emergency, they'd crank these up to help out).  More importantly - they really do wear wooden shoes!  Who knew?? 

 Evidently they are really good in the saturated ground for keeping feet dry. 

Especially when you are heading out to the outhouse.  I'm not seeing very much privacy in this area...

The thought did cross my mind to buy a pair (of wooden shoes, not prehistoric outhouses that leave last night's dinner in your canal). 

Then I remembered where I live.  Probably not very useful in the drought land.

And the most popular response I get to anyone who hears I was in Amsterdam?  "Did you smoke any pot?"  Um, no, I did not.  I did however make note of the Cannabis Cafes - especially while walking past them.  And you can actually buy the seeds in the flower market.  No wonder the people were so chill.

After a day our touring in the mist, we were forced back to the ship - to once again face the fact that we were now just one day away from our departure.  

As we were beginning our trek back to the lock...a rainbow popped up behind one of those new-fangled windmills.  

Those were either storm clouds or the exhaust from the Cannabis Cafes...   

And after an hour or so we were back at the lock that stirred me to get up so early - except this time I could see it.  This just doesn't seem like a great idea...but I'm no engineer.  It seemed even more sketchy as we sailed in - noting that we had what seemed like a yard of space on either side.  And the tiniest string tossed out to some potentially homeless and or high dudes to 'guide' our ship through.  Right, just aim us at the little white dot up there. 

We made it through with no drama, other than folks fighting for the best seat in the observation lounge.  People get testy when they know their next job is to pack up their dirty clothes!

Oh, yes - back to the shoes - this was the pair I loved the most.  Not quite my size, but definitely a fashion statement, no?

Oslo, Norway. OR, holy crap how many museums are there here?

When you are super lucky like me and you save your pennies for a year or so and you get yourself signed up for an amazing cruise - you are sent a list of excursions from the ship essentially asking you how you would like to spend your days.

Are you one of those folks who prefer a slow vacation - where you don't really do anything scheduled, but instead bum around on your own?  Or are you on of those folks who want to dive into as much as you can in an attempt to fill up every minute of your stop? 

I'm mostly the latter - although there are days when I'd prefer the former. 

With my parents - this usually works out perfectly.  Much of what they want to see is also what I want to see, so we do our excursions together.  (I do have the 'go-ahead' to do something on my own ~ and actually signed up for Sea Kayaking in Tallin, Estonia on this trip (I'm not 100% sure my mom was on board with that one).  Of course, Tallin was the stop where we didn't stop because the sea was not behaving.)

Oslo, Norway is at the end of a long, long fjord.  Right, so a fjord is a narrow inlet with steep cliffs on both sides and water that is generally deeper than the actual see.  In other words - it's not ugly at all.  All the way into Oslo we passed beautiful marinas and homes.   

Because it takes so long to get from the sea to Oslo, we had another shortened day - arriving at about 10am, touring from 1pm to 5pm and then back on the ship to head back down the fjord to our next stop.

Being the crazy go-getters that we are - we decided to hop on a Hop-On/Hop-Off bus parked at the port and take a pre-tour of Oslo before our scheduled excursion.

I can't really explain how glad I am to have done that. 

Because, evidently when I was picking out excursions with my mom and dad I failed to notice the part of our tour that said, "Spend day at three separate boat museums where you will quickly tire of history and begin a staggering quest to maintain a pulse."

Sometimes I just get museum-ed out.  Or it might be that I don't need much time in a museum to get the picture.  Or maybe I'm not a fan of items stowed behind glass where I can't touch them.  Or maybe we were just so deep into the trip that my brain was fried.

We did three museums...The Viking Ship Museum, the Kon Tiki Museum and the Fram Museum.  And yes, I can tell you what each of these museums hold and what part of nautical history they represent. 

But I'm not going to.

I did vow to read the Kon Tiki book at some point in my life. 

Now, our Hop-On/Hop-Off tour - that was cool.  Although too quick.  (PS - if you're ever abroad, these tours are a really easy way to learn the city quickly - and you have the freedom of hopping on and off to explore where and when you want to). 

Oslo is one of those super-progressive cities - they seem to have a total handle on thinking ahead and being proactive.  Currently they are finishing off a tunnel that will take all the city traffic under ground to alleviate congestion. 

And, of course, there's that national health care thing - they have it, it works.  Oh, did you have a baby? Take a year off.  And make sure your husband joins you for the first six weeks.  Okay, I'm sure it's not REALLY all rainbows and unicorns, but the guide did a pretty sweet sell job.

So while the excursion wasn't my favorite of the tour - I really did like the city.  We got to see the Royal Yacht coming in from a vacation trip...and the Royal Horse Farm (another place I'd like to live).  There were some decent old castles that could use an exploration or two next time.

Plus it was another stop where we came back from our touring, dropped dad off at the ship and then did a u-turn to go shopping.  Which is always a win.

Copenhagen...long name, short day.

I like when you pull into Copenhagen (you know, on your boat...) - there's a big warehouse and one the side, painted in green, it says "cOPENhagen."  This is definitely a city that is open for business - primarily, the tourist business. 

This might have been the first time on the cruise that I felt crowded by other groups - the road along the main square was jam packed with tour buses bringing groups in from cruise ships.  Well, I suppose they could have come from other places too...but this late in the cruise, I started forgetting there were other modes of travel.

Here's something funny.  For those of you who haven't been cruising - the docks are usually segregated - so that all the cruise ships dock in one area.  This makes it easier to process the incoming passengers and provides a TARGET for vendors to lay out their goods. 

Generally as you disembark the ship, you see the start of chores...one of which always involves the side of the ship, a can of white paint and a roller.  Literally - every stop, the paint comes out and any marks from the previous docking are quickly erased, lest anyone think there was rubbing.

Typically (meaning every time I've ever seen it), the painting takes place on the side of the ship that is actually against the dock. Ergo, the painter can stand on the dock and paint.

 

On this day, we were parked end to end with a ship on which someone apparently lost a bet, was drunk or had a really poor idea.  As we were eating breakfast on our back deck, a rope appeared through an access window. 

Then a person.  And a life preserver.

Then a paint can and roller were ferried down...

Have you ever tried painting the side of a house while sitting on a swing?  Or maybe mopping a floor while standing on a skateboard?

Fail.  Every time this poor guy tried to use his roller, he pushed himself away from the ship.  There was no rolling, just swinging.  Yes, if it had worked, we'd all have been impressed.  Instead we went for a third cup of coffee to watch the show. 

What I like about Copenhagen is the main square - where four palaces sit facing each other.  The Queen lives in one, her son in another, etc..  I like that they all live right there among the people (well, the people probably have smaller homes). 

I also like the royal guards - and would like to offer up a spot in front of my house for any that want to move to a nice southern climate (we'll discuss uniform options ~ wool might not be ideal during the summer months.  Also, I'd like one of those shiny black bags you carry for my own use. No need to bring extra Duke Blue pants).

Another thing I like about Copenhagen is, well, they have an Ice Bar. Because we had already visited the Ice Bar in Stockholm ~ we considered ourselves connoisseurs of chilled vodka.


No need to instruct us on how to wear the poncho (no frozen fingers this time AND we all wore sensible shoes for below freezing drinking).

While the rest of our group was oohing and aahing at the Ice Sights...we were belly up to the cold bar making our selections. 

Fortunately, my father didn't force me into a life of crime at this stop as there were no menus available for stealing.  (Once I get my imported guard, the Stockhom IceBar menu will be safe, too.)

And finally - the environment.  Copenhagen is considered one of the most environmentally friendly cities, with over a third of its citizens commuting by bike to work.  The inner harbor is clean enough to swim in - although I'm guessing there is only about two days a year that it'd be warm enough for my tender toes.

And everywhere you look ~ windmill city.  As far as you can see.  They produce something like 20% of the energy used ~ and I was a bit surprised at the folks in our group that scoffed at that number, mumbling about how that was hardly worth the expense of installing them.  Really? 

Our day in Copenhagen was a short one - just enough time to skirt the major stops, drop Dad back off on the ship, do some quick shopping and get back on board for sail away. 

Generally we try to be on the top deck to watch the ship pull back into the passing lane ~ perhaps we should have brought our jackets this time...then again...look at those cute little folks. 

Wait, did we just invent the Ship Snugglee??



Game, Set...wait, what?

Sorry, another break from the trip.  I know, you thought we were heading to Copenhagen - and we'll get there soon. I promise.  But you know sometimes, I have to do bloggerpy.  Take a few minutes...get something off my mind.  Share it with my cyber friends. 

And assume you'll all take my side.

As you may or may not know, in my head, I am a semi-professional tennis player.  This means matches or practices several days a week - some of which actually leave me on the winning side.  Most of which leave me wondering why I'm not faster, stronger, better. 

Last night - a league match in the city league. The format is three mixed doubles courts.  Now, I don't mean to brag, but my team is on the top of the rankings this year.  That doesn't mean we've won all of our matches, but still enough to be able to look down and wave at the other teams from the numero uno position.

Our group arrived at the courts, got warmed up...and the other team...seemed to be lacking.  To be specific - they only had one man and one woman...which, if you do the match, means they were two courts short at go-time.

But being the kind and gentle team that we are, we agreed to go ahead and start Court One until the rest of our opponents arrived.  Court One was my court - with my partner Matt.  Courts Two and Three...never showed.  Meaning an automatic win for our team.  Meaning Court One didn't matter, but we played anyway.

Way too much background information...but long story short...Matt and I played a great first set and got bamboozled in the second set when the guy on the other side decided to show his real skill set.  And we lost the tie breaker.  It was torturous.  Let's call them Elmer and Gigi. 

Side Note:  Elmer had the most annoying yokelly laugh I've ever heard.  Wanted to scream out many times, "For the LOVE...stop!"  But I didn't. 

Still, I was a bit surprised to get an email from my captain today with a 'heads up' that our opponents had reported me to the league for poor conduct on the court.  Come again?  I mean, I know I was frustrated.  I know I'd commented once (or thrice) that there was no way Elmer was a 3.0 player.  (That's a ranking...this league combines a 3.5 woman with a 3.0 man). 

But nothing that should have provoked an email to the league.

Right.

Not thinking anything of it - I zipped an email over to the league coordinator to find out the deal, thinking Elmer didn't like the suggestion that he was sandbagging. 

And then it came to me.  From my captain.  THE email complaint. 

Now down here in the south, we have a saying...it goes like this..."blah, blah, blah - I nearly FELL OUT."  This means you are so stunned/shocked/surprised/offended/etc. that, well, you nearly fall out.  I don't know what you fall out of - I just know how it feels when you nearly fall out. 

And when I read this email - I very nearly no-doubt-about-it almost fell out.

I will now share said email...sans my thoughts.  Which will come later.

From: Gigi (remember, this is a fake name...I do have some class...)

Sent: Tuesday, October 26, 2010 9:53 PM
To: (the league coordinator - copied to captain and, of course, Elmer).
Subject: IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT COURT CONDUCT  (really, all caps?)

As league coordinator for RATL, you need to be aware of inappropriate conduct occurring during the 6.5 mixed league (she didn't put a period at the end of that sentence.  I hate bad punctuation)

This evening our team, Nothing But Net, played against Random Aces. I played with my husband Elmer against a guy name Matt, his partner was Jill. Her behavior was nothing short of appalling and unacceptable. She was exceedingly rude, throwing her racket, returning balls before serve by smashing them across the court. She complained about everything, including my husband’s playing level. We’ve all seen rude and obnoxious players out there, if need be, I give you several more examples of her character.

However, she SERIOUSLY crossed a line in the second set. My husband hit a great overhead, she looked at him and said “you’re a jackass”. This is absolutely unacceptable. She eventually lost so much control of her emotions, that she threw match point by purposely hitting it out. Her partner Matt did not appreciate this.

I hope that this style of play is considered extremely rude and unacceptable by the people running the league, and that necessary measures will be taken.

~ Gigi

Have you nearly fallen out?  Yeah, I just nearly did again when I reread that. 
 
In the interest of full disclosure - early in my tennis career, I had a bit of a temper.  But I took great strides in toning it down and.  I admit, I probably wasn't that much fun to play with five years ago.  But - that girl's done gone.  Yeah, I still sometimes feel maybe not awesome about my on court attitude...but this?  Hell's no.
 
So let me counterpoint:
* I didn’t throw my racket on the court once. Often when I am walking back to the benches, I toss my racket on the bench. You can see this at any practice or match. It’s not an angry toss or a slam – it’s just a toss on the bench. I know most people treat their rackets like gold, I’m not one of them.  It's why I don't spend $200 on my rackets.

* I did send a ball back to Gigi one time when she wasn’t looking ~ which I said sorry for. Wasn’t smashing them back – although I generally bounce them on my side of the court first. I’ve played other ladies that do this too – maybe it was new to her.  Either way, the balls have to get from one side to the other, and a light tap generally doesn't do the trick.  And PS - you're on a tennis court...balls tend to fly around.

* I did complain a lot.  About myself.  To myself – including calling myself many things, such as ‘moron,’ ‘idiot,’ and, yes, ‘jackass’. This was because of my ability to constantly hit the ball straight to Elmer instead of around him. I talk on the courts - to myself.  It's just how I roll.  And it's legal last I checked.
* The only time I was specifically upset with Elmer was when he nailed my partner with an overhead – after nearly hitting him several times.

* I never lost control of my emotions – no tears, screaming, stomping – I'm guessing if I had any one of the players on the courts next to us would have noticed.  They did not.

* And on the last point, Matt and I both were just plain done – I did hit the ball out on purpose (not at anyone, just up and over and long) per the two second conversation between Matt and I prior to the point to that started with "Should I just end it?" and finished with "Please do.”

The annoying thing?  Now I'm obsessed with replaying the match in my head - not remembering my kick ass shots...but trying to locate the point in the match where Gigi evidently left our court and went to play with Charlie Sheen then came back and confused me for him.

And as a follow up, I had a nice chat with the Director of Tennis for the city. Who was super nice and open to the idea that there just might be two sides to this story.  Like Gigi had a story - and I missed the whole thing. 

And we have a winner...Visby, Sweden

If you are lucky enough (like me) to take trips that include multiple pre-organized stops...it seems that there is always one stop that you:
A) Aren't real thrilled about and
B) Absolutely fall in love with. 

Two years ago, on a trip from Istanbul to Venice - I fell in love with Montenegro.  A place that I knew nothing about, other than it was a big word on the trip itinerary.  It was amazing and beautiful and fresh and full of people thrilled with their success in their break from Yugoslavia.

This year?  Visby, Sweden gets the prize.

Now, there may be a few reasons for Visby's ability to take the top spot that have nothing to do with the actual town.  For instance, Visby was our first stop after our 20 hour marathon in Moscow (yes, the marathon in Moscow gets longer each time I speak of it). 

It was also our first stop after our unplanned recovery day following our 23 hour marathon in Moscow.  It was also the first stop after we missed our stop in Tallin due to poor weather.  In case you've lost count, that means we had to spend TWO days in a row ship bound during which my father and I did NOT win the miniature golf tournament.

It was also the first time we'd seen sunshine in days.  It was the first time in a week we could wear next to nothing (not true, but the sunshine made it feel like there was hope for the future).

So, where the heck is this place, right?  It's in the Baltic Sea, on an island called Gotland off the southeast coast of Sweden.  And yes, it's part of Sweden.  It's like how Hawaii is ours.  Even though it's nowhere near us.  Well, near me, anyway.

Have I mentioned how much I loved a walled city?  Well, I get giddy just thinking about them.  My favorite to date is Carcassonne, France.  You can practically feel the history seeping from the stone walls as you pass through. 

We'd set off on our tour sort of ho-hum about the day - and then, "Hold the phone! Is that a walled city???"  Ding, ding, ding!  Walled cities were built for protection.  They are maintained solely to make me jealous of the people who now live there.  I often wonder how my HOA would feel if I threw up a stone wall around my townhouse.  And should I include my neighbor within the wall since we do share a duplex?

We toured the city - begged for some shopping time and moved on to discover another treasure of Visby.

Man Caves.  On Crack.

Turns out you can rent these cute little fishing cottages for about $100k a year.  Each cottage is only one room (with toilet...in that one room) and is spitting distance to the Baltic Sea. 

My guess is that not many women would sign up for a hideaway to be used in the dead of winter for collecting fish from the freezing sea. 

At least I know one that wouldn't.  Although I do like their little net dryers...am wondering how my HOA would feel if I installed some large branches into my yard on which to dry my sheets and blankets.

Across town, we visited an old med-evil church.  This would have been a 'typical' old church visit...had our guide not asked if he could sing a song or two...

You know that awkward feeling where you just know someone's about to make a total fool of themselves?  Where you don't want to make eye contact or even breathe because you're too afraid you might start laughing? 

The church grew silent and I tried to hide under a bench to protect our guide's feelings. 

And then he started belting out these amazing hymns.  The acoustics were fantastic, the songs jaw-dropping.  Okay, so I guess I called that one wrong. 

But it wasn't the walled portion of Visby that was my favorite. Or the  beautiful old church. Or the quaint fishing village.  Or the amazing views of the Baltic Sea. 

Nope, it wasn't until our last stop that I made the decision to move here as soon as possible (well, only for the summer months...the rest of the year gets chilly from what I hear).  What drew me in was the Stavra Cheese Factory.

I love cheese.  I love cows.  And here I found a place where they co-exist.  Yes, the cows produce the milk not fifty feet away from where it is made into cheese.

This place even had automatic milkers because they believe that a cow should be able to decide when she wants her udders vacuumed.  Yeah - the COW decides. 

(For those who don't believe it can be done..."The milking unit comprises a milking machine, a teat position sensor, a robotic arm for automatic teat-cup application and removal, and a gate system for controlling cow traffic.")

You know how they say "Happy Wife, Happy Life"...well, over there it's "Happy Teats, Happy Cheese."  or maybe it's "Happy Swiss, Happy T..." oh, never mind.

Anyway - Visby, Sweden is now on the list of diamonds in the rough.  If I can figure out a way to combine a week or two in Visby, Montenegro and Positano...I'm on it!