La Coruna, Spain: cruisers' delight

La Coruna! Every cruiser and mariner on board expresses great delight for we are docked alongside the city! The mariners whose turn it is to go ashore for the two hours afforded them can make full use of the time!

Promenading and glinting!

As we get off the gangway its a hop and a skip to the bustling city centre with the old town to the right and the new to the left. The facades of multi storied buildings facing the cruise  center are all gleaming white, their innumerable historic Glazed white wooden balconies reflect the sparkle off the bay. It is no wonder then that the city goes by the enchanting moniker ‘Crystal City’. The galarias built after demolishing the old city walls in the 19th century are architectural wonders and are one of the largest of its kind in the world!

One of the buildings, I later discover, is known as "El Diente de Oro" ("The Golden Tooth") because its golden façade glints in the sunlight, standing out against the surrounding white buildings.

Along the bay, broad promenades offer sweeping views of the harbour and marina, where boats sway gracefully with the rhythm of the tides.

Following the line of the wall

Continuing along the seafront at Parque da Marina, we reach the old city walls—the outer stone ramparts of a castle. Had we walked on we would have arrived at Castelo de Santo Antón, now a museum. We could have carried on to the Tower of Hercules, but with the day growing warmer, we choose instead to lose ourselves in the shady lanes of the old town.

Soon we come upon a striking multi-storey building with a stone façade and Galicia's signature glass-enclosed balconies. It turns out to be the old Military Hospital. Along the way, we also catch a glimpse of the very modern Maritime Control Tower overlooking the harbour.

Over the hill

As we continue up an incline along the 14th century walls we realise that we were actually at the base of the Garden of Carlos. It is very quiet here partly because the garden is set around the tomb of Sir John Moore, the hero of the Battle of Elvina, when the French attacked the British. The little park is divided into radial sections representing the various climatic divisions of the world with vegetation peculiar to them.created an oval space crossed by a set of radial paths starting from the centre, where the grave is located.  The vegetation is distributed in flowerbeds. and has a spectacular viewpoint overlooking the city's port. 

San Francisco church

After a short respite under an age-old Elm tree we walk out onto a plaza across which is a church that is undergoing restoration/ renovation.  It is the Catholic Church of St Francis. The buildings around it must have been the monastery. We spy the sea ahead of us down an incline. We choose to continue to wander along the old city walls rather than go to a beach or another marina. 

Learning  and history intertwine

Following the old city walls, we discover that they embrace more than centuries of history—they also surround places of learning. Within the walls stands a university, a reminder that education continues to thrive in this historic quarter.

A little farther on, we come across the Pablo Picasso School of Arts.We pass another school, its frontage punctuated at regular intervals by the old castle's sentry boxes.

In pursuit of the copper dome 

The streets are still peaceful, with most of the shops yet to open, so we pause on a bench for a short rest. Then something catches my eye: a gleaming copper dome rising above the rooftops in the distance. Curiosity takes over.

I set off through a shady park towards what appears to be a busy arterial road. At first, the junction looks daunting, but to my amazement the thoughtfully designed pedestrian walkways guide me effortlessly across. Moments later, I walk down a flight of staits and stop in awe. Before me lies an elegant square, a church standing to my right, and directly ahead the magnificent Plaza de María Pita.

A Square That Inspires Awe

The first sight is breathtaking. The magnificent City Hall rises with not one but three domes, one housing a clock whose bells mark the passing hours. Stretching 64 metres, its grand façade is adorned with statues and allegorical figures, a proud symbol of the city's civic spirit.

Facing it is the vast Plaza de María Pita. At its centre stands the bronze statue of the fearless heroine who defended A Coruña against the English in 1589. Elegant arcaded buildings with Galicia's distinctive glass galleries frame the remaining sides, their cafés and terraces filling the square with life and energy

Is there truth to the Scandal?

The church before me is the baroque Church of San Jorge. Built by the Jesuits, its twin towers and simple stone façade conceal a richly ornamented interior. A magnificent granite cross with magnificent craftwork draws our attention.

Then comes the astonishing claim: this church is said to have hosted Spain's first same-sex marriage in 1901. Could it really be true? The story certainly adds an unexpected twist to its long history.

Walk or climb? Stairs or granite slabs?

At one corner there is a long flight of stairs leading to residential areas. But we want to explore the streets that the other corners lead out to. There are more buildings with porticoed ground floors, continuous balconies, and triangular decorative motifs lining the streets. At one point we get a glimpse of the modern municipal market with its parabolic concrete roof. In the distance appears a cupola of what we believe us the collegiate .. . And we probably passed by the street where Picasso lived during his teens and got his headstart as an artist.

At one point we see the former prison which is now a museum.

We wander through the shaded Rua Real, soaking up the colours, aromas and lively buzz of cafés, boutiques and flower-draped balconies. Once closer to the shoreline before the promenade was extended, this 300-metre street has been the city's commercial heart since Roman times. Its stone façades and elegant white glass galleries make it one of La Coruña's most iconic and atmospheric streets.

Craving and normality

Our walk seamlessly leads us into the new city, where we stumble upon an obelisk with an unexpected story. The original, destined for France, was stored here before shipment. Inspired, La Coruña decided it deserved one of its own.

As office workers fill cafés and parks for lunch, we reach the theatre backed by a waterfall cascading down a sheer rock face. Then, we wander on to the gardens of Méndez Núñez. Shaded paths wind past rose beds, fountains  and a floral clock under maintenance. Nearby, the elegant casino recalls Monte Carlo, while an unusual sculpture in the plaza leaves us wondering about its meaning.

Trivia:

• The Tower of Hercules is a La Coruna symbol being the oldest lighthouse in the world.built during the Roman Empire it is now more than 2000 years. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site the area has been inhabited since well before Roman times, with early Celtic tribes leaving

• The huge Plaza Maria Pita is named after the woman who helped save the city from the British forces.

• The narrow streets in the old town with colourful homes were once inhabited by the Romans 

New port in Adelaide(2): heartening and grim train tales,

Continued from Adelaide(1)

About 2 hours before boarding time we head for the Adelade city station to make our way back to the cruise port. It's a cautious interval since the train ride is going to take 45 mins plus enough time factoring for any incident that might cause delay

Doesn't help to be complacent 

The electronic departure board flashes our train and its platform. Relieved, we make our way over, find a pair of seats and settle in. We have about thirty minutes to wait.

Then, a nagging thought interrupts our comfort.

Wasn't there more than one port?

There it is on the board: Port Adelaide... but there's also Outer Harbor. Our ship is docked at Port Adelaide, isn't it? Or is the station nearest the terminal actually Outer Harbor? Suddenly, the certainty we'd felt moments earlier evaporates.

Rather than trust our own interpretation of the timetable, we approach a uniformed railway employee standing on the platform.

"Is this the train for the cruise terminal?"

He smiles politely before delivering the news we least expect.

"Wrong platform."

Our hearts skip a beat.

With no time to waste, we make a dash across to the correct platform. So much for a relaxing wait! It's a timely reminder that overconfidence and travel do not always go together.

Back on the right platform, we finally relax. One reassuring sign follows another as more and more cruise passengers appear, many recognisable by their lanyards and backpacks. We exchange knowing smiles. We are definitely in the right place this time. They must have felt the same.

At the expense of local passengers

When the train arrives, passengers pour out before we gratefully claim a seat each. After almost three hours of walking, our legs are ready to give in.

The relief is short-lived. At every stop more people squeeze aboard until the carriage is packed. Latecomers are left standing shoulder to shoulder. We can't help noticing that many of them are impressively tall and well-built. If anyone loses his/her balance, there won't be much room to fall!

A few stations later, an elderly woman clutching a shopping tote boards the train. She steadies herself as it pulls away, determined to remain standing. Only then do we notice the walking stick tucked beside her.

The hero

Before anyone else can react, the elderly gentleman seated opposite us rises and offers her his seat. Ironically, he looks several years older than she does and probably needs the seat even more as his wife quietly mumbles to me. A loud applause greets his gesture as he joins the standing commuters. Does he look inconvenienced? Far from it. He spends the rest of the journey chatting cheerfully with those around him while his wife keeps a watchful eye on him.

The grateful woman, a local, explains that she has been shopping and had had no idea the afternoon train would be so crowded. Her heartfelt thanks seems to embarrass the gentleman more than the standing itself.

This small act of kindness leaves a lasting impression. Oftentimes,the most memorable part of a journey isn't the destination—it's the people you meet along the way.

The wait

Boarding time has come and gone, yet the ship remains motionless. That is unusual. If our departure has been delayed for operational reasons, the captain would surely have made an announcement. Instead, there is only silence and growing curiosity. As usual conspiracy theories abound.

Wait, I'm on my way!

A passenger has contacted the port agent to say he is on the train back to the port but will arrive about twenty minutes late. Out of consideration, the gangway will remain in place. We wait patiently, assuming it will only be a short delay.

Ten minutes later,the captain blares out another message. The passenger is on the wrong train!

A grim realty

A moment of laxness has suddenly become a much bigger problem. He now has to retrace his journey, wait for the correct train, and then endure another forty-five-minute ride back to the ship. Depending on the connections, it could easily take two hours before he reaches the port.

It is remarkable to think that an entire cruise ship, carrying thousands of passengers, can find itself waiting for one person whose day has unravelled through a single wrong decision. Travel has a way of reminding us how easily the smallest misstep can grow into an unexpected drama.

There is no choice but to leave the passenger behind. We have a few sea days before we reach our next destination. The individual has to make his own way to meet us in Fremantle !

I assume he did join us there.

New port in Adelaide(1): shock and surprise

Caught Unprepared

I'm almost nonchalant about our stop in Adelaide, Australia. When we first visited it in 2016, it was one of the easiest cruise ports. We'd simply stroll from the terminal into the city centre—no planning, no stress. Once there, we'd hop onto the free City Loop bus that circles the main attractions.

At the tourist information booth, a cheerful, courteous lady hands me a city map and patiently answers my questions. Our main destination is the Botanical Gardens, a place I hadn't fully done justice to on my previous visit and was looking forward to exploring more this time.

But. . . . The "new" cruise terminal is no longer within walking distance of the city. It's about a 40 minute ride away. We can either take a train or catch a bus. The train departs every twenty minutes and takes about forty-five minutes, winding through Adelaide's suburbs. The buses take roughly the same time.

‘Poof’ goes our carefree plan. Our brains go into a furtive rethink.

Outside the terminal, two buses appear to be waiting. Almost at the same moment a train pulls into the station. Which one now? Do the buses leave immediately, or do they wait until they're full? Will the train get us there faster? For a few addled moments we stand there, map in hand, trying to make sense of it all. What had been the easiest port of call has become a head scratcher.

Global influence:Tactics to Reduce Fuel Consumption

We decide to take the train into the city. Buying a ticket proves less straightforward than expected. A long queue snakes its way to the ticket machines, and cash isn't accepted.

As we wait, we learn something interesting about Adelaide's public transport system. Australian seniors pay just A$4.60 for a single journey, and if they return within three hours, the trip back is free ( for this month at least). The catch? You need to be an Australian senior with the appropriate concession card. The local passengers are delighted by the arrangement.

The concession isn't simply an act of generosity. At this time, concerns over the disruption to global oil supplies caused by the US-Iran conflict has prompted measures to encourage people to leave their cars at home and use public transport instead. It is a reminder of how quickly events unfolding on the other side of the world can influence everyday life in a city thousands of kilometres away.

For visitors like us, the best option is a A$10 day ticket, allowing unlimited travel without time restrictions.

Once aboard, we tap our cards on the electronic reader. The train is crowded, so we count ourselves fortunate to find seats.

The journey is the destination

As the train rolls through Adelaide's suburbs, it offers something we would otherwise have missed. Instead of arriving directly in the heart of the city from the old port, we pass neighbourhoods of neat older homes standing beside modern developments. The journey becomes a revelation of how the city has quietly grown beyond the city and tourist centres. 

Another thoughtful touch

We emerge from the cavernous railway station and are greeted by a set of steps wide enough to host a marching band. For those with weak knees, there's a rather broad ramp leading to street level. Adelaide, it seems, believes in giving everyone options.

More than just a stroll

The city is a cheerful hive of activity. Trams and buses in bright green, yellow and red glide through the streets, each colour marking a different route. Add these colours to the traffic lights and it becomes a constant kaleidoscope of colour contrasting with the dignified older government buildings. Despite all the movement, nobody appears to be in a hurry.

Slowing down to appreciate 

The Botanical Gardens are about a 30-minute walk away. When we arrive our pace naturally slows to a leisurely pace. Some sections of the garden have begun to wilt. Only a rose or two clings to the bushes. Many patches are being reworked. Still, the beautiful conservatory, the arbours and the fascinating collection of plants keep us happily occupied.

The liveliest sight of all is a covey of wide-eyed preschool children enthusiastically discovering the wonders of plants. Their teachers point out leaves and flowers with great seriousness while the youngsters seem far more interested in running from one exciting discovery to the next. Their infectious enthusiasm brings a burst of joy to an otherwise wilting garden.

From quiet streets to busy boulevards

We check the time. All aboard is at 4.30 p.m., so if we're back at the station by 3.30, we'll have a comfortable margin. That gives us another hour to wander before retracing our steps. All we have to do is return to the major intersection, turn towards the old city square, and continue to the station.

Strange how familiar streets can feel so different only a few hours later. The quiet roads we walked earlier have come alive. The afternoon rush is in full swing, with office workers, shoppers, students and tourists all weaving around one another. Trams rumble past at regular intervals, buses glide in and out of stops, and the city hums with an energy we hadn't noticed before.

As we walk, we're struck by how effortlessly Adelaide blends its past with its present. Elegant sandstone buildings, reminders of another era, stand shoulder to shoulder with sleek glass towers. Neither seems out of place; instead, they complement one another, as though the city has found a way to embrace both history and modernity.

The city square is a hive of construction activity, fenced off as major upgrading works continue, so we don't linger. Instead, we turn towards the station, satisfied that we've seen a different side of Adelaide than the one that greeted us that morning, or in an earlier visit.

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Conflicts and Cohesion: Gdansk, Poland

Reflections on a recent visit to Gdansk, Poland

Ground zero—what comes to mind?

Hands down, the first image is of Nagasaki, Japan: the exact point where the atomic bomb exploded on 9 August 1945, an event that symbolised the end of World War II as Japan surrendered shortly afterward.

Today, the phrase is also inseparably linked with the site of the September 11, 2001 attacks in New York City, where the World Trade Center once stood.

Yet there is another, less familiar, symbolic connection.  Ground zero also evokes the place where war began: Westerplatte (Gdansk), where Germany launched its attack on 1 September 1939, marking the start of World War II in Europe. The first shots were fired here.

Book ends

Westerplatte and Nagasaki,stand as powerful bookends to one of history's most devastating conflicts.

Reshaping history

As we drive back to the port along a ship yard, a red coloured building whose facade of rust-coloured steel, resembling the towering hulls of ships once constructed there, draws our attention. It is The European Solidarity Centre, a museum that pays tribute to the resilience of the human spirit. This is where the Solidarity movement was born. 

It is humbling to realise that the Solidarity trade union and its peaceful civil resistance began with ordinary people who simply refused to give up their dream of freedom, dignity, and justice, eventually leading to the fall of communism and, hence,  reshaping the course of history in Eastern Europe.

Recovery mission at the historic Town Hall

The day we visit, there's an air of excitement and mystery hanging over the Town Hall. The magnificent red-brick building, once frequented by Polish kings and now home to a museum, stands tantalisingly out of reach. I've been looking forward to seeing its lavish painted ceilings and enormous ornate fireplace, but the doors are firmly closed. The Hall, along with the neighbouring building, is sealed off behind security barriers.

Everywhere, impeccably dressed police officers stand watch. Sleek black cars glide in one after another, each arrival announced by the wail of sirens. Men and women in dark suits step briskly onto the cobbled streets before disappearing behind the guarded entrance.

Curious, I ask one of the police officers what's happening.

"A conference," he replies with a polite smile, offering little more.

It's only later that I discover we've stumbled upon the Ukraine Recovery Conference—a two-day summit bringing together thousands of European leaders, diplomats, and business delegates to strengthen long-term support and investment for Ukraine's post-war reconstruction.

The discovery gives the day's events an unexpected emotional depth. Our driver, who brought us from the port in Gdynia to Gdańsk, quietly tells us he's Ukrainian. His family home was seized during the war, and he found refuge in Poland. Speaking in hesitant, apologetic English, he carries himself with remarkable humility and grace. He's deeply moved that world leaders have gathered to discuss rebuilding his homeland.