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I would like to go back to Subic Bay as it was when I was a kid. If I went back there now, I am sure the memories would be very strong, just from the look and feel, even though it is very different now, I am told.

When I was an adult, I was lucky enough to revisit one of the places I most wanted to go back to, twice: Mallorca. Once on my honeymoon, and once on my 10th wedding anniversary. Not as nice now, though. A bit strange with the cultural and politically correct changes there, or so I am told. The memories I have are wonderful, though.

With my wife, I think the most wonderful vacation was our tenth anniversary. We stayed in Mallorca at the town of Pollenca (I think) which was known for its roosters, apparently.

That trip was notable for two things: My wife and I got separated in the airport in Barcelona (explained in my next post) and we had one of the most wonderful vacations ever.

We rented a walled in villa. There was a tiled tub in the court area that you could fill with wonderful cold water and sit up to your neck if it was hot, and the bathroom on the first floor had one whole wall of doors that opened out to the courtyard, and you could take a great bath there in a big claw foot tub that would be open to the courtyard.

The windows had no glass windows, only loose shutters. The beds were awful, just a step above rope beds and straw. They had canvas straps right under a thin, lumpy mattress, and the beds were short. I have had chronic back problems, and my back was acting up there, to the point I simply couldn’t sleep.

But the upside to that was, there was a wonderful little open area on the second floor from the bedroom that had a few rocking chairs out there. When I was up at 4 AM because I couldn’t sleep, I would go out on that deck and sit there with a drink, watching as dawn approached with the town spread out in front of me.

Morning after morning, I watched the town wake up. The routine was wonderful. If I was up at 0300, the town was dead silent, not a living soul, and it was a big town. Then, as sunrise came closer, lights in a building here and there would come on. A delivery truck would drive by. Then a car. Then a person on a bike. Then a pedestrian.

But before all this...there were the roosters. Long before dawn, you would hear a single, solitary one. Far away, very faint, but...there it was. Then another. And another. When the actual sun was getting ready to pop up and it was light, it sounded like hundreds of roosters.

To be honest, I kind of liked them. They weren’t obnoxious, but then again...I had been awake for hours!

I loved Mallorca. Don’t know if I will ever go back.

Worst Port: Brest, France. The people were downright hostile, and not even just a little. I understand the rest of France is better (except for Paris, whose denizens apparently annoy even their countrymen)

Most Friendly Port: By far, it was hands-down, Edinburg, Scotland. I felt proud to be an American, the people were so hospitable to us it blew me away. Genuine hospitality.

Port To Never Visit Again: Naples, Italy. Nuff Said.

Most Interesting Port: Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia. It broke my heart years later to see the destruction and fighting there.

Port I Looked Most Forward to Visiting That Was Not Mallorca: That would have to be Barcelona. What a fun time I had there, but...I mostly looked forward to going to the Los Caracoles restaurant. When we got ashore, a bunch of us made a beeline to it because the food was so good. There was also a restaurant/bar there that was COMPLETELY debauched, you drank beer out of bedpans and douches, the staff was dressed up in lederhosen (I have no idea why) and it was the weirdest and most bizarre place I have ever gone to my in my life. It was like going to a bar run by performance artists being directed by Salvadore Dali. To this day, it stands as the weirdest place.