This afternoon Earl and I took a tour of Lisbon, the capital of Portugal and the only European port we’ll be seeing on this trip.  We understand that an afternoon with a tour guide isn’t the same as a week or two in-country. At the same time, its merits are underrated.

I’d planned to study up on Portugal before climbing aboard the tour bus, but I didn’t. Instead I took the guide’s descriptions at face value with nothing to calibrate them by. And when the day was done, I felt as if I learned all about a city that was stuck in time.

Lisbon’s glory days were five hundred years ago when the country was known for its maritime explorations.  Vasco de Gama, for instance, accomplished what Christopher Columbus only wished. He found the actual route to the Indies around the South African Cape of the Horn and enabled Portugal to control those seas for one hundred years.

Portuguese explorers traveled to Brazil, various ports in Africa, India, Macao, and China. You could hear the pride in our guide’s voice as she described her country’s influence.  Never mind that the buildings we passed as she spoke were riddled with graffiti.

We stopped for photos at three monuments: a monastery and a fortress that were built in the Middle Ages.  The third, the Monument of the Discoveries, commemorates the golden age of Portuguese exploration and depicts King Henry the Navigator and thirty-two amazing human sculptures standing on the bow of a ship. It was dedicated in 1960.

Overall, we loved the tram ride with its samplings of port wine and custard pastries.  We loved the hillsides on which Lisbon is built.  We loved the bridge that resembles the Golden Gate in San Francisco, primarily because it was built by the same engineering company.

And, if you want to know what an afternoon excursion’s real value is, it is this.  Now that I’ve been to Lisbon and seen the sights, it makes me want to actually do the homework I should have done in the first place.

We are cruising the southern coast of the Iberian Peninsula and will dock in Lisbon this afternoon.  Columbus and his crew couldn’t have been more excited to see land than the almost three thousand passengers on the Crown Princess.

It’s not that we’ve been at sea as long at the Santa Maria; rather, it’s that we’re finally on our scheduled course, having bypassed France and Spain to get here in a timely manner.  We’re here for twenty-four hours too.

Neither Earl nor I know anything about Portugal beyond the fact that it was once a mighty seafaring country in the 1500s.  We’re taking a tour tomorrow and hope to get an overview that will entice us to return for a more in-depth stay.

In the meantime, as we approached the harbor I took a turn on the Lido deck where the Trough, the pizzeria, the hot dog/hamburger stand, and the swimming pools live.  The weather has turned balmy, and water has returned to the swimming pools.  I hope to enjoy both before we start the actual transatlantic crossing tomorrow evening.

Once we leave Lisbon, it will be five days before we see land again.  Unlike Columbus, however, I know what’s waiting in the New World.

The Captain just announced that enough fuel has arrived that we can make it to Lisbon, Portugal, where more fuel awaits.  He predicted we’ll leave the shelter of Southampton within half an hour and head into the Atlantic.  With this new timetable, we’re due to arrive in Lisbon forty-eight hours from now.

This means two more days onboard ship before there is a reprieve.  No matter.  Once we’re actually moving, there will be a lot more for passengers to do because none of the onboard stores can be open when a ship is in port; neither can the casino.  But that’s about to change, and I suspect some of the grumpier passengers will begin to relax.  As for Earl and me, we couldn’t be more relaxed.

The Captain did warn that tonight’s seas would be markedly rougher than last night’s because we have no protection.   He also said that we would head straight for Bermuda from Portugal, which means another six days at sea after we leave Lisbon.

Earl was the one who wanted to do a transatlantic crossing.  If my math is right, we’ll have done the equivalent of two of them in terms of the number of sea days by the time we disembark.

The Captain roused us this morning with an update. During the night winds approached almost one hundred miles an hour. They made me grateful that the location of our cabin, for which we paid extra, was on a lower deck in the middle of the ship.  I felt the rocking and wondered how the passengers on Deck 15 were faring. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

The good Captain addressed the next issue.  People have taken to the Internet to share our plight with the world.  He requested that they at least provide accurate information.  For instance, half of the crew is not supposed to leave the ship in Lisbon (if we get there).  Only 23 crew members are going. And, if we never took on another egg or croissant, there are enough provisions that none of us will starve before we reach Ft. Lauderdale.

Finally, he said the weather had passed but we have another problem: fuel.  It takes a ton of it to keep a ship running even if it isn’t going anywhere.  There is heat for the cabins, hot water for the showers, lighting everywhere, current for the refrigerators, etc.  Since we’ve been moored here the better part of two days, there isn’t enough fuel to go anyplace.  Captain hopes that whoever is in charge of this commodity has managed to purchase some here in Southampton.  If so, fuel trucks will arrive around Noon and we’ll actually depart around 3 PM.  If not, I look forward to another exciting night in Southampton. (That’s code for having a good book handy and retiring early.)

Will report around 3 PM. Fingers crossed until then.

The day came and went but no hurricane appeared.

We’re still moored in Southampton and the Captain came on the loud speaker around 6 PM to say we were staying put. Yet throughout the day, rain has been merely sporadic, while winds have been mild. Given that we were to have made it to Le Havre, France, early this morning I’m not sure why we didn’t try and hold out there. I’ll just assume the Captain knows something I don’t.

My suspicion became true as Earl and I watched the local news on our stateroom’s TV.  The warnings were dire with predictions of winds up to eighty miles an hour by midnight tonight.  All transportation modes are cancelled and it looks as if southwestern England and northwestern Europe are in for it. We’re heading for bed in the hope of being fast asleep when the storm hits. If I waken, I don’t plan to blog in the middle of the night; but I’ll be the reporter on the scene first thing in the morning.

It’s 5 PM.  Time for the traditional sail away celebration as we leave the port and head to sea.

Except . . . we’re not going anywhere tonight. And we may not be going anywhere tomorrow or the day after that.

When we arrived at the port of Southampton we were greeted with a letter from the ship’s Captain explaining that the western coast of Great Britain is bracing for a hurricane and the Crown Princess will hunker down in port until the danger passes.  If it doesn’t pass quickly, our visits to France, Spain, and Portugal could be scrubbed in the name of safety.

I appreciate the Captain’s forthright approach, except it’s not as if we have any choice but to board the ship. So we did.

We found our stateroom and began to settle in when the loudspeaker announced that the muster drill was to begin.  Under the circumstances, it seemed unnecessary – truly a dry run — but we grabbed our life jackets and headed to our assigned meeting place anyway.  You don’t mess with the muster drill. Afterward we drowned our sorrows in a cocktail before heading to what we affectionately call the Trough, but which others more kindly refer to as the Buffet, for  supper.

Of course, there are more elegant dining venues on board, but we were still adjusting to this new itinerary and didn’t feel like being pleasant with fellow passengers. Rather, we stared out the windows in the Trough and watched two flags holding on to their poles for dear life.  Maybe the Captain has something here, but it remains to be seen.

I had hoped to blog a lot about London during our stay, but when it boiled down to visiting more sights or writing about ones we’d seen, I chose the former.  Besides, such guides as Fodor’s can tell you more about any attraction than I possibly can.

However, since we head to Southampton tomorrow to board the Crown Princess and sail away, here are my unedited impressions of some of the sights we saw.

Favorite tourist attraction: Earl liked the Churchill War Rooms while I liked that concrete cemetery known as Westminster Abbey. (http://www.westminster-abbey.org/)  Since neither is a public museum, entrance to each was pricey but worth it.

Least favorite attraction: The oversized giant Blue Cockerel in Trafalgar Square (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-23448832) left Earl pretty cold.  The fact that public restrooms are not free caught me off guard.  I actually didn’t mind, once I got used to the prospect except the fee for them is not uniform across the city.  I was always looking for coins.

Other sights we visited: Prince Albert Hall, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Tower of London, the crown jewels, the London Eye, and the Changing of the Guard.

Favorite meal: Dark stout (Yes, it’s a meal.), which explains why English pubs are so popular.  Second favorite meal: a hearty English breakfast. See for yourself at (http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/pork-recipes/the-full-english) Least favorite:  Everything else. We even opted for pizza this evening rather than more bangers and mash or fish and chips.

Most unexpected surprise: Sunny skies and mild temperatures the entire time.  We walked fifteen miles in three days without a drop of rain.

What we wanted to do but missed: The British Museum, The Globe Theatre, a play, high tea . . . and this is for starters. There is so much to see and do in London and the surrounding area that I can’t imagine how long one must stay to see everything.  After all, the British have been developing monarchies and monasteries and monuments for over a thousand years, and they’re all on display.

Earl and I leave tomorrow on a three week trip that takes us to rainy England, the barren northern coast of France, and then south to sunny Spain and Portugal on our way to crossing the Atlantic in November and stopping in Bermuda before disembarking in Ft. Lauderdale, FL.

We need waterproof clothing for London and possibly the Atlantic.  But in between we might encounter sunnier skies and warmer weather.  In fact, I’ve checked and the temperatures for this trip range from the low 40s to the mid 80s.

Since Earl and I take only what we can carry, it’s a challenge to be prepared for all kinds of weather. No wonder my suitcase is confused, almost schizophrenic.

I was confused too, until I decided that one-third of the suitcase’s space would be devoted to cold clothing, while another third would contain gear that could be either hot or cold, and the last third would hope to see eighty degrees in Bermuda where I can don a swimsuit under shorts.

The winter third includes wool slacks, a cashmere sweater, and my Gortex® raingear. The middle third includes a pair of jeans, various tops, and my sweatshirt that says “Earth without ART is just EH.”  I suspect this will mark me as a silly American, but no matter.

The Bermuda third has a swim suit, goggles, sunscreen lotion, and brightly colored T-shirts There’s also the requisite formal dress, the one that compacts into the size of a tissue, with a couple scarves for vanity and variety. Of course, I also need underwear, shoes, cosmetics, my computer, iPod and Kindle.

It’s a good thing I’ve been working with a trainer, because the real issue isn’t stuffing everything into my bag – I’m good at that. Rather it’s being able to hoist the bag into the overhead compartment above my seat without wrenching anything underneath it.