Bye Dubai

'Have a safe flight' is not what you expect an Emirate's captain's farewell to be at the airport. But that's how Ian said goodbye, dropping us off after a terrific two days. 

It was slightly chilly and very busy as we made our way through for the last leg of this trip. The weather was a surprise. Cool, dry and sunny. December January is the time to visit I think!

This is a city of contrasts in so many ways. Come in July and the temperature will be in the 40s with matching humidity. A city where the local emirati make up less than twenty percent of the population, where everyone else is on a visa, age limited. Where Hugh tired of rollers and Ferraris. Where we ate like kings for $40 for the six of us. Where there is no income tax. And migrant labourers earn $10 a day. And a kingdom that holds oh so many world records, for the tallest building, largest fireworks display, largest aquarium and so on.

In the end, we had a great time, saw a lot and left much to see and do another time.

Dubai day 1

We are in Dubai for the first time, unless you count two hours in the lounge on our way to Europe in November. I don't.

Although its our first time and we have only two days, our introduction to this slightly mysterious and intimidating desert metropolis is made so pleasant by the hospitality of Ian and Jodie. We are about to see that yes, there is a lot of sand in the desert, but a lot of water too, in this old port. A lot of people too - more than 2 million in this hyper modern, eruption of a city that has embraced consumerism like it invented it. 

Although I'm told summer here will melt glass and evaporate the beer from capped stubbies, it is mild to warm as we wander around today. Delightful weather, in fact.

We walk along Dubai Creek, a short tidal ingress of the bay, which is criss-crossed by Abras, ancient covered timber boats which putter across packed with passengers. Or not, if you charter one, as Ian does for us to poke around the creek as a spoilt party of six. 

The creek is lined with big old timber traders, which move goods around the gulf. We see fridges, washing machines and other stuff ready to be loaded on these beautiful old timber craft to make the slow passage across the Persian Gulf to Iran and ports beyond. In the sky above, jets lift people and goods up from Dubai airport every minute or so for slicker, speedier transit. It's a curious world where both conveyances can turn a buck.

We meander through the reconstructed old Dubai village, with hawkers inviting us to buy tourist tat. The crowd is a shuffling mix of us, Indian, Pakistan and Philippine expat workers and the very occasional emirati.

After an Indian feast we make our way to Dubai Mall. The children are on separate missions. Cait's is to shop during the Dubai shopping festival and Hugh's is to spot super cars. Both are successful and eerily convergent when we see that spending more than $A100ish puts you in the running to win a Lamborghini! We have not seen the car exotica that surrounds us anywhere else, including Monaco. There is a veritable car park of bling here. 

And the mall is something else. We see every specialty shop known to capitalism, an ice rink, a four storey aquarium and more. We have seen queues for entry to only three spectacles in our travels  - to Gaudi's Masterpiece the Sagrida Familia Cathedral, to the Picasso Museum and here, at Victoria's Secret, the lingerie shop sale. Think about that.

The buildings around the mall include the world's tallest and a host of uber new, tall groovy towers. The high rise architects have been let out to play in Dubai and it makes for an interesting skyscape. After the kids have run us ragged with their gendered obsessions, we head home via a sandy sunset viewing spot for the city. It is spectacular. We clown around pretending to lean on the Burj Khalifa.

Pictures of Barcelona

On the beach of Barceloneta

Waiter having a break in Bari Gotic

Hugh and Caity chilling at 6 Calle D'Argentaria

On the beach at Barceloneta

Walking from the market to the sea in Barceloneta

Our street Calle D'Argentaria

Door on the port in Barcelona

Tapas

Tapas eaters 

Bari Gotic on New Years Day

What's it like cruising the MSC Splendida in the Yacht Club?

We cruised on the MSC Splendida, built in 2010 by a privately owned italian shipping and cruising company. Launched by Sophia Loren (yup!), it is the eleventh largest cruise liner in the world, with 3325 passengers and 1120 crew. She is 330 meters long, 18 stories high and cruises at 22 knots.

Note that each and every one of those factoids comes to you courtesy of Hugh's encyclopaedic  knowledge of this boat and others.

We paid considerably more to join the 'Yacht Club' on the Splendida. This is what the brochure calls a 'ship within a ship', meaning 72 suites at the front of the boat, high up, with exclusive pool, lounge and restaurant, all meals, drinks and mini-bar included. 

Oh, and a butler who delivers breakfast and the paper of your choice - we got the Age and Herald - and escorts you to dinner and shore excursions. The yacht club lounge is above the bridge, with panoramic views and great cocktails and aperitivo. The lounge was never full, and was a quiet and relaxing place to soak up the atmosphere and debrief on our day before dinner. 

Yacht clubbers are a mixed bunch nationally, with Italian, French, English, Chinese and American accents overheard. We met one other Australian family who were going on to ski in France for two weeks. People kept mostly to themselves. They were mixed sartorially too, some wore evening dress to dinner each night. We didn't. We did enjoy frocking up for a cocktail party with the captain. When Hugh asked him who was steering the ship, he shot back "the cook"!

The suite is huge, with panoramic windows to the front, a separate bedroom, powder room, walk in robe, lounge area and large bathroom with bath and one of those showers that will irrigate select parts of your body at high pressure. The boy's suite was smaller, but equally luxurious.

While yacht clubbers have card access to all these facilities, they also have run of the ship, so the other pools, restaurants, banquet areas, game, gambling, dance and shopping areas are up for grabs too. The open areas of the boat are busy and a reminder that this is a floating city. The mass feeding areas are crowded and noisy, but the food is fine. The kids found that the fare there suited them.

The yacht club only restaurant L'Olivo, has outstanding table service and setting. Our waiter, Salvatore from Sorrento, was a gem. The menu changes daily and it is easy to work your way through a six course meal each night. The food reads well, but was often bland to our taste.

Each night, there is a show that goes for about an hour in the huge theatre. We went most nights and enjoyed ourselves.

Although the boat is huge, it does move on a beam sea. Hugh felt ill a couple of times. One night, steaming to Palermo, the swell was huge and the wind a moderate gale. For some reason, Hugh and I had a jacuzzi that night. It was memorable.

We boarded the Splendida in Genoa and stopped in Marseilles, Barcelona, Tunis, Palermo and Civitaveccia. We took shore excursions to Aix-on-Provence, the Medina and Rome - and self-toured in the other ports. Coming into port each morning and leaving each evening is a happy rhythm of the sea.

Is this for you? I don't know. For some cruising is a never, ever and for some it is the only way to travel. We must be somewhere in between! 

What makes a great museum?

The queue for the Picasso museum in Barcelona snaked along for about 200 meters. As we walked past in amazement, I overheard a museum staffer explaining to mid-queuers that their wait would be around two and a half hours. 

We will try again at opening this morning, but I am not optimistic.

On the grand tour, one sees a museum or two. It has sharpened my idea of what makes a great one. This is personal, of course.

It is not the biggest, grandest, most comprehensive collection. It is not the most famous thing. It is not good English interpretation, although I'll admit this monoglot appreciates that.

It comes down to something, usually one thing, that evokes. An idea or a feeling that stays with you.

The Barcelona Maritime Museum is housed in a naval shipyard built in the 15th century. The vast arched space sits where the harbour's edge once was, at the start of la Rambla. 

It was built to make war galleys - battleships. Massive craft that combined sail and rowers in a fast, manoeuvrable combat machine. They were the state of the art in warfare - the F 18 Super Hornet of its day. The shipyard could crank out thirty at a time.

Sitting there in this 15th century naval shipyard is a galley. It is a replica of the Royal Galley built in this yard in 1568. It is enormous, sleek and beautiful. It is 60 m long, with a crew of 238 sailors, rowers and soldiers.

In 1571, it fought in the battle of Lepanto in the eastern Mediterranean off Greece, between allied christian forces and the navy of the Ottoman Empire. This was a christian muslim showdown, with 460 ships. In four hours, 37000 men were killed. The good guys won. 

Catholics still celebrate this happy day each October as Our Lady of the Rosary, because Pope Pious V attributed the win to the intervention of the Blessed Virgin Mother Mary. Who knows?

Imagine standing in a 500 year old shipyard, alongside a warship identical to one built there in 1568. A religious experience?

First class pigs.

Imagine this. A black pig runs wild-ish, eating only fallen acorns on the Spanish Portuguese border until it is killed, brined and air cured for up to four years. And we queue to pay more than $200 a kilo for wafer thin slices of its hairy legs! 

It is so in Barcelona, where jamon iberica de bellata is the king of pigs. 

A pig that, were it to fly, would fly first class. A pig that, were it ever at a trough, would be recognisable by its silver spoon. A pig that would, from its haughty snout, look down on lesser pigs. 

All animals are not equal. The Spanish government specifies this pig.

We have, respectfully, eaten this pig. What does it taste like? Silky, ever so slightly salty, with translucent fat that melts in the mouth. Umami, slightly smelly socks. Woofy, in a piggy way.

There you go.