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R421 Part 3

It’s fascinating, just how jarring it can feel to be subjected to unusually loud mariachi music while queuing at Reception! It really doesn’t suit the quiet, decorous aesthetic there (think Titanic staircase done on the cheap). 

We have now passed the halfway mark and are therefore already on our way home. Bleurgh.

We left Barbados late, yesterday, due to, to quote Captain Russell Hobson, gremlins in the engine room. As a result, we have been belting along all night and day. Not pootling and dawdling, like we did when we failed to get into St Vincent and instead spent two days dragging our heels (keels?) to St Lucia. The reason? A cargo vessel had holed its hull, and to stop it sinking, they moored it to the cruise pier. So, there went our parking space. The captain woke us all at 0645 to make sure we knew. How thoughtful.

The biggest complaint on board is the heat. Now, before you start (you’re in the Caribbean in November; what do you expect, sympathy?!), you need to know that the locals are complaining the loudest. There has been a stationary system of weather over the Caribbean for the past month or more, similar to the one over the UK. But where as the one at home has been grey and miserable, if dry, the one over the Caribbean has been a heat plume. It has been 29 degrees. OVERNIGHT. Even here, the weather can make you miserable! So, yes, while lying in the sun, 31 in the shade, with a cocktail in one hand and a book in the other, may be all very lovely, the islanders haven’t slept in days, poor souls. <Feel free to insert Nik Kershaw Wouldn’t It Be Good lyrics here>

On board, in our attempts to avoid going outside into the furnace of the outdoors, our days consist of crawling from one public room to another, in search of ever cooler air. The triumph was going to Deck 8, which, holding only the Indian restaurant, the card room and the cinema, we almost never go to. Turns out no one else does either! So we sit in the card room, at freshly-baized card tables, and read, while others do the communal jigsaw puzzles, in blissful silence and even more blissful cool.

The end result of which much indoorsing being that I have contracted the Aurora Cough, formerly known in better times as the Oriana Cough. Too much dry air-conned air. Not enough fresh, humid air. As we haven’t got off the ship since Southampton, I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised. We needn’t have bothered bringing the Rollator at all!

It is, to several powers more, very relaxing knowing you don’t have to get up, get off, run around, find the right currency, clothing, hat, sun cream, credit card, tour bus, taxi, etc. Likewise, since we gave up on the formal dining, due to table troubles (too far first and too empty subsequently), we don’t have to dress up for formal nights. The liberation is positively giddy. We bump into mates at 3 in the afternoon who are already off to their cabins to begin titivating for dinner at 6. It’s nice seeing how lovely everyone looks, and the beautiful dresses and jewellery and shoes are still plentiful, but it’s quite a load off knowing I’m not going to bother! I did bring the necessary equipment, but it’ll all go home unused.

My body clock is not a happy bunny. We’ve already starting losing hours as the clocks go back to going forwards. I hope that makes sense. It doesn’t get any easier with each time we do it, I can assure you. The drip, drip, water torture of one hour each time really messes with your head. How the staff are even upright, I have no clue. Even if I had got that job at P&O that I interviewed for back in the noughties, I doubt I would have lasted long!

We won the quiz a couple of nights back. For three years, I’ve been warning our team that we do not want to win, because the bottles of wine offered as prizes are more punishment than praise. If Brasso ever go out of business, P&O have a backup plan. They were all thrilled to win, however, of course, and chose the white. So the next night, having chilled it, they opened it. NOW they understand why I kept telling them it was a bad idea! We came fourth last night and no one minded one bit!

In addition to Qwirkle games and our post-quiz Qwirkle tournament, Dad and I are getting quite a lot of reading done. So far, I have read Medusa, which is a detective novel by Michael Dibdin set in northern Italy. Why I started with book 13 in the series, I wish I knew, but it’s the only one in the library, so somewhat out of my hands! I am now reading a Barbara Kingsolver called Unsheltered. I do like her writing. Some of her turns of phrase are so gorgeous, I have to read them aloud to Dad. Who has now also read Medusa. In one day. He has also read all three books in a detective series by L.S. Hilton, namely Maestra, Domina and Ultima – also largely set in that part of the world. He also read a Donna Leon he had never found before – Third Nero. It’s nice to see him so engrossed.

He has now largely adopted my thing of not watching tv while on holiday, although I do occasionally find him checking the headlines on the BBC when I come out of the bathroom! Otherwise, he mostly contents himself with the Daily Fail digest that gets handed out at Reception, although, as they now print fewer copies in order to save the trees (!), he doesn’t always get one. The other nice, cool place is the Library, but, sadly that only has four chairs, usually occupied. Unless you want to sit in an office chair by a computer terminal. Yes, they still have those! But it means Dad can have a sit down while I browse for us both. The books are very big and heavy – probably to dissuade us from popping them in a suitcase, or maybe just to make them more resilient to poolside abuse– so I cannot carry more than four at a time, but two each usually lasts us the best part of a week.

I have also read a book that Vicky lent me, The Asylum by Carol Mackie. Wow. What a tale. And all true as well. Which makes it all the more awful. Not a read for the faint-hearted.  However much we may rail against the way society works these days, it is leaps and bounds better than what she had to deal with in the seventies and eighties. For those of you not inclined to read it for yourselves, essentially a girl is sexually-abused by her brother. When she tells people, they lock her up in a mental asylum for being a “fantasist”.  Having always been brought up to view social services as basically well-intentioned if helpless, this was quite a shock to read, I assure you.  Never judge anyone, because you have absolutely no idea what they are going through on a day-to-day basis that you don’t see.

Here endeth the Third Lesson.

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R421 Part 2

R421 Part 2

Landfall in St Maarten was on Friday. The Obligatory-Reggae-Muzak-Because-We-Are-In-The-Caribbean-Now launched from the ship’s speakers almost the instant the ropes landed on the quayside.  Sadly, although the temperature was 31, the clouds remained overcast, as they had the entire way across from Madeira. Although there was nothing during the crossing above a Force 6 (Strong Wind, white horses everywhere), the ship had moved enough to ensure several very good nights’ sleep. That, plus the clocks going back four hours, has definitely reduced the size of the bags under my eyes. Still a bit puffy, but not as bad as before.  The constant cloud cover has ensured, however, that the unsuspecting/ less seasoned cruisers were already quite pink before we even got here.

There is a new system to prevent sunbed blocking. Staff place yellow hoods on the chair backs of unattended beds, and, half an hour later, anything still there, other than a human behind, is moved to a table by the pool called the Lonely Lounger table. Frankly, it’s all a bit stable door vs. long-bolted horse. There has been very little competition or shortage of sun loungers on this trip, even though the roof has remained resolutely shut since Southampton. When the sun shines, it’s absolutely stifling in there, so people try to escape by going into the canteen and its hard-working air con. Until yesterday evening, of course, when they held a deck barbecue and pinned the doors open! Last night at the quiz, which is held in the canteen to allow access to the midnight buffet and self-service drinks machines, people were feeling quite ill, because the temperature was, if you’ll pardon the pun, through the roof.  We were not a happy bunch. We still managed to come joint second, again, which is a position that we are happy with. No one wants to win the wine, if we can help it! Our team consists entirely of our mates from previous cruises: Dad, me, Margaret and Barry, and Linda and Geoff, and Jo. Jo’s mum turns in early, so she comes along on her tod. As only 6 are allowed to play, sometimes Linda just spectates. Jo is the runner, who takes up the answers to each question and Geoff keeps the score. Dad and I manage to produce a fair number of answers between us, and only occasionally make mistakes.  Although I did get a question about Dr Seuss wrong the other night, which left me mortified. Fancy confusing The Cat In The Hat and Green Eggs And Ham?! I felt quite ashamed of myself.

When we set off from Madeira, the captain announced that our itinerary had been changed, and that we would not be going to Guadeloupe. Bearing in mind that this was the reason we came on this cruise, this left me with a significant reactive depression. It made the whole palaver at Southampton feel even worse, because the only reason I submitted to the forced march was the promise of getting to Deshaies again. And we wouldn’t even be going there. We went to Antigua instead. Apparently, some striking electric company employees shutting down the only power station in the capital a fortnight ago was enough to cause a sudden change of heart, due to an apparent increased risk of violence to tourists (?!), that they only decided to mention AFTER we had departed Madeira and could not back out and fly home. Those of a cynical frame of mind might find the timing interesting, but I could not possibly comment. Of course, the fact that the protests were about the significantly lower quality of life in Guadeloupe and Martinique compared to that in mainland France, mixed with our not going there, that will affect their income from tourism quite negatively, is an irony clearly lost on Carnival and P&O Cruises UK. But if you’re a fan of the phrase “Health & Safety gone mad”, now might be a good moment to dig it out and dust it off for reuse.  Our daily mooring fees at some of these islands is about £50,000 a day, minimum, so they won’t mind our absence, will they? The same cynical voice in my head keeps asking if there is really nowhere else to moor around the 190-mile coastline of a butterfly-shaped double island covering 630 square miles? Too shallow? We have tenders, and we know how to use them. Hmmm…

I have been in the pool a couple of times since Southampton. Although Force 6 is not very rough, the water in the pool does respond quite dramatically. The second swim, I did 10 lengths, but as the tide was against me, it took sometimes 30% more strokes to cover the same distance, so it was much more tiring. And finding myself going backwards whilst swimming forwards always gives me the giggles, for some reason, so I swallowed a fair amount of the contents, as well. I have worn my cozzie under my clothes a few more times, but I don’t fancy the effort and ensuing aches. I keep thinking I’ll go in while we’re stationary, but I keep running out of time. Busy, busy, busy. What with the waking up, and the getting dressed, and the eating, and the drinking, and the chatting to friends, and the Qwirkle games, and the reading, and the quiz, there’s no time! #nicerproblemstohave

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R421 – Caribbean on Aurora 29 Oct 2024

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday, when we set off, the sky was a solid grey and the whole world was dingy. Today, we woke to blazing sunshine and blue skies. Tomorrow, we should get to 20 degrees.  Welcome to cruise R421 to the USA and Caribbean, on board P&O Aurora. We aren’t going to the USA, nowhere near, but, hey, don’t let’s let a little thing like accuracy get in the way of a good sales pitch, P&O. Heaven forbid!

So, anyway, here we are. Aurora is her same reliable, if somewhat weary-looking, self. The occasional blown double-glazing in the restaurant; so far only one lift without a working screen, so you don’t know what deck you’ve arrived at; and a LOT of familiar faces – crew and passengers alike.  On the plus side, my lovely Lenora – the chef who saved me from starvation earlier in the year – is here, and fussing over dad already. A little kindness goes a long way around here. Sadly, however, it seems that Carnival and P&O Cruises have decided that they don’t want disabled people on their ships anymore, so this may be our last ever foray.

Last November, Carnival introduced new rules for the mobility impaired.  Yes, you’ve guessed right. This is not going to go well. They have concluded, somehow, that there is no such thing as ambulatory disability. You’re either in a wheelchair, or you’re a pain-free spring chicken.  Essentially, Aurora has five Evac chairs, to assist those in wheelchairs to do stairs in an emergency.  That’s it. On an adults-only ship that caters to 2000 older, more faithful, clientele. Five. Now, this is, in itself, not a problem, because, if our lives depended on it, Dad and I can both do a couple of flights of stairs, no problems. We might be distinctly unhappy pain-wise afterwards, but we can do that in our lifeboat! Oh no, says Carnival. No, no and no again. That cannot be allowed.

Now, if those of you with excellent memories cast your minds back to 1999, to our first ever cruise and the Pineapple Juice Incident, you will recall that, in the Good Old Days, we used to board at Southampton up a shallow gangplank, the same as we use to disembark on Port Days. However, as this meant crossing the quayside, a member of P&O staff marshalled the passengers, so that we didn’t step out in front of a passing vehicle.  For those who were not around at the time, the PJI occurred when Mum and I were stopped, with Nana and Dad behind us. We were held so that a forklift laden with fruit juice cartons could pass by. The driver hit a bump, his load shifted, then fell, and he ran straight over it, sending what can only be described as a tidal wave of pineapple juice all over us. Think Hokusai’s The Wave, but a LOT stickier, and you’ll get the picture.

After that excitement, P&O Cruises decided that this was not an optimum arrangement (!), and they purchased an air bridge. Now, the trouble with air bridges and ships is that the tide is constantly going in and out. So the air bridge has to adjust its height all the time. It cannot stay stationary like an airport version. To prevent the climb from getting too steep in either direction, they use a zig zag formation. This is all very well and good, but it adds a couple of hundred yards onto the walk. This was described to us on Tuesday as “only short”, by people who clearly wouldn’t know a mobility impairment if they were punched on the nose by one. The end result being that they had to introduce a bunch of wheelchairs and people to push them, to get passengers the extra distance to the ship.  All local volunteers, often retired or students, and mostly lovely, chatty, friendly, kind people.  You turned up, checked in and asked for a chair, and they would trundle you up in the lift and along the air bridge to the ship.  In recent years, as my ME has progressed, we have used two chairs, one for dad and one for me. Originally, it was mum and me and we made dad walk, but now he’s 91, I think he’s entitled to a bit of a sit down.

All this reminiscing has a point, I promise.

Meanwhile, back in 2024, in recent months, my GP has changed my medication. This has resulted in what can only be described as misery for me – nausea, vomiting, constant heartburn, and indigestion so bad, I have to sleep with extra pillows – it’s been fun.  Anyway, I am assured that my system will acclimatise soon, but in the meantime, I have been feeling fairly sorry for myself.  And also, which is tricky when you’re trying to pack for a holiday, unable to bend over for fear of setting off the more horrid of the symptoms.  This meant that, firstly, we didn’t pack until the night before, when Dad’s lovely carer, Josephine, was around to do the work, and secondly, I was feeling pretty ropey after a 2.5 hour coach journey.

Returning to the new anti-disabled rules, we are now required to complete an online form in advance of departure, to clarify that, whilst we can do stairs in an emergency, the extra walk along the air bridge is too far, and we need assistance. I duly filled out a form for dad, and then immediately did the same for me.  I even grumbled to him that I had had to start from scratch, all over again, entering much the same information twice. When we got to check-in, only his name was on the list. They had no record of my request.  Remember, I’m already feeling quite unwell (although you cannot admit that, in case they think you’re infectious and send you home).  Foolishly, I glibly assumed that, having done this for years already, upon realising that the form had not been saved or whatever, they would shrug their shoulders, write me in by hand, and give me a chair. Hahahahaha. Nope.  They said that the new rules were “no form, no chair”, and it was just tough that the system hadn’t saved my request, I would have to walk it. No flexibility, no kindness, no understanding, nothing. I was even told that Carnival Head Office have so little to do with their time, that they apparently sit and watch the CCTV cameras, to make sure that no one whose name is not on the list gets a chair. The utter implausibility of this completely flummoxed me. I don’t even know how to think down to that level of stupid, never mind respond to it effectively.

So now we are sitting in the departure hall, facing the prospect of having to go home, because they don’t have a form with my name on. Instead, I was told, repeatedly, that if I did not walk on, I would be denied boarding and sent home, because I was clearly too frail to leg it to a lifeboat.  Trying to explain that a few stairs in an emergency are not the same as a good chunk of a mile without a seat or stopping point, was fruitless, and I had a panic attack. I sobbed my heart out, but they were utterly impervious.  Dad suggested that I take his chair, and we take turns every few feet, but that wasn’t allowed either. Why the hell not was never really made clear. Eventually, they got the Rollator walker out of the bag (we brought it for dad to use on long piers!), and said I could use that.  My pointing out that that won’t reduce my leg pain, or the four days of pain afterwards while my body tries to make fresh ADP, was also received by a wall of Computer Says No. Funnily enough, being repeatedly told to Calm Myself doesn’t magically stop a panic attack. Who knew?! I have never been so thoroughly bullied in my life.

In the end, I was force marched onto the ship with the walker, and had to stop several times, unsurprisingly. Surreally, I was allowed to stop and sit on the walker as many times as I wanted. But, just to make sure there was enough salt in the wound, a pusher followed behind me, WITH AN EMPTY WHEELCHAIR. Apparently, this was so that, if I became unwell on the walk, I could have a sit down in it. But if I did sit down, I would promptly be denied boarding and returned to the terminal! Seriously, you couldn’t make this shit up. What kind of a Machiavelli-trained sociopath came up with this nonsense?! Not only did I have to endure the pain, but I could see a chair and not sit in it!  Orwell would have been impressed.  Huxley would have had conniptions. I cried the whole way.

All this to “improve Health & Safety” for passengers and crew alike. How it helps anyone, I have no idea. I just think they’ve decided that young people have more disposable income, and a longer projected lifespan in which to spend it with them, so the old and infirm can sod off, and then they can raise the prices and increase their profits by bleeding the youngsters dry instead.

So, now we are on Thursday, Halloween, having endured the above on Tuesday, and I am still popping painkillers like nobody’s business. I’m not sleeping because of the painsomnia and poor Dad is at a loss to help.  The wifi works, the door keys work, (most of) the lifts work, the sea is lovely and calm, and the sun is shining, but Heaven help you if you’re ambulatory disabled, because you can get knotted.  All because the second online form wasn’t saved by the system. What would have they done if I had submitted mine first, and it was Dad’s that wasn’t saved?! Bully a 91-year-old man to tears?!

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R401 Part 12 – The finale – probably

R401 Part 12

Good morning, this is the Captain speaking. The time is OMG o’clock (07:15?!). Cozumel is cancelled. The combined wind and currents mean we cannot dock. So three sea days til Grand Cayman. You may now go back to sleep. Gee, thanks.

Why have I been so quiet? Dad’s had an inner ear infection. He’s never really experienced vertigo before, and has not been the best-behaved patient ever. So the past week has been mostly running back and forth to the dining room, to find something he’ll eat, so he can take the tablets, so the room will stop spinning, and he can lie down to sleep. He’s now much better, but quite hesitant about walking. Interestingly, he seems to have more trouble when we are stationary, same as I do, when I have to wear my Seabands. Tomorrow is Antigua, which is the ‘last’ port in the Caribbean and then we get a load of sea days, during which, hopefully we can recover and recuperate and, ick, start packing (!).

We didn’t get off in Antigua. Or Praia di Vitoria, for that matter.  We’ve rather enjoyed doing Very Little Indeed on port days, and this was no exception. In Antigua, I think we were both up and dressed by 4.30. pm. It feels very decadent, and, however enjoyable their myriad trips and excursions, the people we chat to are invariably jealous of our monumental lack of activity.

The weather in St Kitts was sublime, sunny with blue sky but not too humid. I visited various shops (accompanied by the now apparently compulsory Bob Marley tunes) on the quayside, and enjoyed myself so much, I forgot my walking stick! I was halfway back to the ship before I realised! I went back and in the second shop I had visited, the owner said that the shop owner at the end of the row had it.  I was very relieved to get it back! St Kitts is also notable for being the first place on this entire cruise where they have the one dollar golf buggies to get you down the enormous pier.  Trust me, there is no better way to spend two dollars. As I descended my chariot at the foot of our gangway – we were opposite Arvia today – the heavens opened. I made it just in time!

Antigua, by contrast, was grey and chilly (by recent standards, so low 20s). In fact, from the moment we cast off from Antigua, the ocean made it abundantly clear that we are now on our way home.  It has become, sporadically, quite bumpy at times, which isn’t helping Dad regain his confidence with the walking about.  The roof has now been closed and, we are reliably informed, will be staying that way from now on.  The pools have been emptied, partly because all the sloshing about gets quite noisy, but also because we don’t want them emptying themselves all over the sunbed snorers. As the Crystal Pool is no longer heated, apparently, it’s actually surprisingly nippy, even with the roof closed, but as most have swapped cozzies for cardigans already, their slumbers continue largely uninterrupted.   This evening, I even spotted a rainbow, briefly.

Both Dad and I have now completely lost our appetites. We eat because we have to take tablets but, other than that, we don’t really bother with meals.  A couple of nights ago, we went to dinner and I ordered four bowls of chicken noodle soup. That was all I ate.  Dehydrated, I am not! I’ve lost over a stone during this cruise – about eight kilos in new money.

We haven’t made it to the cinema on this trip, and, as P&O no longer bother telling you what’s on the tv, we haven’t watched that much either. I did once wake from a siesta to find Dad watching the last few minutes of Sweet Charity. He’d seen it on the stage, and loved it, and described the film, starring Shirley Maclaine, I think, as absolutely terrible. So there’s your film review!

Books-wise, I have read:

White Prince – a biography of Charles I. Not a common topic, usually.  Very interesting and enjoyably well-written. But, by ‘eck, the hardback is heavy!

Watling Street – a journey through Britain’s history via said road, which runs from Dover to Anglesey. This was a very odd book indeed. The writer seems to know the oddest people, and they all live on or near Watling Street! I cannot really put into words how odd these people really are.  It would have been quite an eccentrically enjoyable read, were it not for the constant Remoaner whining, as the book was written in 2017, and not by a Brexiteer. Whilst I appreciate your right to your own opinion, I’d rather only have to read it once, instead of you returning to nag at it every few chapters.

Medieval Lives – Terry Jones at his finest. The thinking woman’s Python.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Philosophy as a novel, or a novel about philosophy. I’m not sure which. But it was a good read.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz – The fascinating true story of a man and woman who fell in love in Auschwitz-Birkenau. Loving it so far.

I hope you have enjoyed the Aurora 2024 Grand Voyage as much as we have. That’s all, folks!

P.S. PSA: my phone decided that the Caribbean was as close to heaven as it was going to get, and died unceremoniously and without much fuss.  I am therefore unable to Whatsapp for the foreseeable. Please revert to email for the time being!

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R401 Part 11

I hope you appreciate how hard I’m working at trying to keep on top of things on this cruise!

So, I THINK today is Monday. Therefore Costa Maya. Which isn’t Costa Maya, per se, that’s the name of the area – it’s Mahahual, specifically. The Captain tried very carefully to pronounce it correctly last night, but I remain unconvinced.  So far, his pronunciation has been pretty bloody awful, so I’m going to assume he got this wrong too!

I didn’t sleep a wink last night. No idea why, because it was quite rough, so I should have been lulled quite easily, but no. I think I finally passed out at abut 6am. Which was 5am because the clocks went forward. AGAIN. So we are now at GMT -5. I think. Probably.  Maybe. At the moment, I just trying to focus on keeping track of which way is up. Anyway, although a tad yawny, I do feel quite rested, because when I did crash, I was spark out for over 7 hours. Dad got up, dressed and left the cabin and I never knew. He’s getting quite good at it! 

Talking of which, until I shared a cabin with Dad, and indeed until last night, I never knew a human could get hiccups in their sleep. Now I know. It’s quite funny, but then I find other people’s hiccups funny all the time, so it’s even cuter when they’re asleep!

So, welcome to Mexico.  White sandy beaches? Tick. Turquoise waters so clear that you can see down to the bottom? Tick. Water so blue it’s almost glowing neon/ mercury bright?! Tick tick tick. Palm trees so plentiful, it looks like the entire coastline has a green Mohawk haircut? Tick. Sunshine so bright, it makes the water sparkle? Tick. Purpose-built concrete cruise ship pier that is over half a mile long (each way), with no stopping points, shade, seating or buggy service? *sigh* Tick. It’s all very pretty, but we’re not going to be able to explore if Dad has to walk a mile just to get there and back, however refreshing the breeze may be. 

Mind you, we are moored next to the Mariner of the Seas, the Carnival Breeze AND the Oceania Sirena, so that’s an extra 3,500-4000 passengers on the Mariner (who will also be alongside us in Cozumel tomorrow), 4,400 passengers from the Carnival Breeze, and 803 on the Oceania Sirena (no, we’ve never heard of it either – and it’s not really moored, it’s anchored off (probably because the bigger stuff takes priority these days!). Plus about 2000 of our own. Plus crew from all of the above! 

Costa Maya is very flat indeed. From the canteen on Deck 12, we cans see for about 20-25 miles at sea, and, moored here, we can see the best part of that over the land and trees as well. There is precious little here that sticks out above the trees, except a large thing that looks like a Mayan temple, but has what might be flumes sprouting from it. There may be more stuff on the other side of the pier from us; I’m sat with my back to it and twisting around is not something my back approves of, right now. So I’m stuck look at bright blue water and trees as far as the eye can see.

For a place so beautiful and with such bright white beaches, it seems astonishingly undeveloped. This is a Good Thing, because it remains utterly beautiful. Other places that were once this lovely suffered from very badly-planned and badly-designed development, rendering them ugly and virtually worthless – Acapulco, I’m looking at you, right now. There, you now have to literally drive out of the town to a different bay altogether to get to a beach that doesn’t have a skyscraper hotel between you and the water, and you have to pay because their beach is “private” to residents only. This, here, however, is how it should be done.  

The history bit

 The Mayan culture has first signs of agriculture and settlement dating to around 2000 BC, and their descendants today number around 6 million, and still refer to themselves as the Maya. There are 28 surviving Mayan languages still in use.  Hieroglyphic-style writing has been found dating from 300 BC, although only three or four books survived the Spaniards. They used fig tree bark to make paper, which was more durable than papyrus. All of which was ended when the Spanish took over, by force, in 1697. Although, to be fair, the Aztecs had already done a pretty thorough clearout of Mayan texts, together with inventing a new fake history for their own books, to make them look like the rightful heirs to the area. The Spaniards started book burning in the Yucatan area first, including that led by Bishop Diego de Landa in July 1562, stating that the books contained “nothing in which were not to be seen as superstition and lies of the devil”, so they burned them all. He was amazed at the level of distress this caused to the locals. Really?! Talk about not reading the room!

There is a continuing debate about whether it was the Olmecs or the Mayans who invented zero. The Olmecs were further inland, but both used a seashell symbol in their Long Count Calendars to signify zero. 

Update on the reef: Our route away from Belize City meant traversing over 20 miles of channels between the coral, which meant the pilot had a very long shift! The Mesoamerican reef stretches over 700 miles along the coast of Central America and over 500 square miles, from the Yucatan Peninsula to Honduras, passing Mexico, Belize and Guatemala on the way to South America. It is home to the world’s biggest fish – the whale shark – and the one of the largest population of manatees. In places, it is only 900 feet from the shore, in a couple of places, it meets the land. If you’ve heard of the Blue Hole, made famous by Jacques Cousteau, it’s here. Come and dive, but make sure you eat Lionfish before and after. The invasive species is killing the reef and everything on it.  Simon Reeves was right about that.

Happy birthday, Eastenders! 39 years old today! 

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R401 Part 10

Sea Day 1 of 2 to Roatan (island off the coast of Honduras)

My back is NOT happy. I’m quite sure it’s the bed. It’s too soft.  MUCH too soft. After much complaining, they put some kind of semi-rigid mattress underneath, which presumably was supposed to make a difference.  Needless to say, it has not.  Even ?three ?four massages have only offered temporary respite.  And I’m getting through our stash of Paracetamol pretty fast.  Last night, I went to the little shop to try and get some sort of pain relieving cream. They used to stock Ibuleve. Sold out.  Paracetamol? Sold out. Aspirin? Guess, go on, I dare you. Nothing whatsoever, except after sun. Not even bite cream.  In. The. Tropics.  Whoever is in charge of stock control needs to be quietly taken outside and shot. This is not kind.  Never mind the average age of the passengers, even crew get headaches!

So I went back to the cabin and put an appeal on this cruise’s private passengers’ Facebook group! Sure enough, within half an hour, there was a message in my Inbox, telling me it was outside their cabin ready for me to collect.  How lovely is that?! Now, all I have to do is figure out who she is, so I can thank her in person!  In case you’re interested, it’s Morrison’s own brand, but it’s still Diclofenac, so that’ll do nicely.  Although I’m starting to think it’s a tear, not a strain. Still, we’ll see how it goes.

As noted at the end of the last missive, I have lost all understanding of time.  So far, on this cruise, we have lost/gained 4 hours getting to Bermuda, then another one on the way to Florida. Then another one to New Orleans.  Then we got one or two back going to Barbados (?!), then we lost them again to go to Panama and Costa Rica.  The clocks changed again last night, but I’ve given up trying to keep track. So has my phone, for that matter.  I just ask Dad to look at his watch! And hope he’s keeping more on top of things that I am.  How the crew cope with it, I cannot begin to imagine. Whoever designed this route must have been high as the proverbial kite at the time.  I don’t think a cat would have drawn a course this daft. Try and follow it on a map, it’s insane!

For longer-standing readers, the name Roatan may ring a distant bell. That’s the port that was cancelled when we had to stay in Los Angeles for an extra day, due to the immigration foul up that cost the local Head of Homeland Security his job. And all the people yelled in Reception about how badly they wanted to go there.  Remember that?! Well, now, finally, c. 12 years later (was it 2011?), we might finally find out what all the fuss was about.

Sadly, tomorrow will be three weeks to Southampton.  The countdown has already begun for some. People are messaging me from home to arrange meeting up – I think they think there will be presents! Ha ha!  Bills are arriving, MOT reminders, even mortgage renewal quotations. Steady on, people, this is still my holibobs, do you mind?! Talking of which, need to stop nattering and plough through some emails.  I’m sure SOME of them actually require my attention.

Sea Day 2. Blinked and missed it. Can’t have been very exciting! Oh, but dad and I earwigged the quiz while we played Quirkle and got 16 out of 20! Mind you, table 3 (NOT the BWAW) got 19 out of 20, so there’s that.  Amanda does ask easy questions, but she still hasn’t learned to pronounce the answers correctly! We have to ask her to spell words, because she simply cannot read them out properly. She asked what an “entomonologist” studies. When she was made to spell it, it turns out she meant entomologist. But it could have been etymologist, or entomogenous (although that’s an adjective, not a noun). She has a clear voice and a decent microphone technique, she’s just not very bright! We all found the questions very easy, but she had been up all night picking questions she thought were quite hard! Oh dear.

Afterthought about Costa Rica. Peacocks.  They are very large, close up. I’ve always assumed they were flightless, partly due to their size and partly due to the apparent uselessness of their eyes as feathers to provide lift – if the air can get through gaps, that’s not going to work, I thought.  Terrifyingly, they are not! They only do short hops/flaps, rather like chickens, but when you see one of those coming towards your head… Bird phobia fully reinstated.

Roatan

Oh, NOW I get it. Roatan is quite possibly the ultimate Perfect Caribbean Island™. White beaches, turquoise, clear waters, plenty of thick rainforest and wildlife, and heat and humidity that even the Devil would find difficult to take.  And not a breath of wind to relieve it.  Everyone on deck moved their sunbeds into the shade, it was so fierce! Roatan is home to the world’s Second Largest coral reef, and people come here to dive the reef and the plentiful wrecks that ran aground on it and sank over the centuries. 

But we don’t dive. Nor do we like lying around on sandy beaches. And the pier walk looked pretty epic. So we stayed on board. Those who went ashore loved it, but my curiosity was fully sated by looking out of the window.

Roatan is the first of four ports in four days, so if the paragraphs get a bit perfunctory, forgive me, I’m probably knackered.

Belize City. 

I’ve wanted to visit Belize ever since I was taught that the UK purchases their entire Cavendish banana crop every year. Nowadays, they do allow some other countries to have some, but we still get ours either from here or Costa Rica.

We must be quite far north of our recent stops, because the temperature has dropped at least 7 degrees overnight. Today is overcast and 23 C. Still humid as all getout, mind you. 

This is a tender port. Cruise ships aren’t allowed to dock. In fact, we are moored so far out, we can barely see the town/ land! I’m not sure how the people of the private island inbetween us and the shore feel about us looming outside their windows, but we’re smaller than the Celebrity Constellation which is moored roughly a mile off our port side. Apparently, it takes 20-30 minutes just to get ashore. Tendering ashore is usually fine, as long as the water is calm. Here, today, it ain’t. We have white horses.  Dad and I took one look out the window and agreed we’re not getting on a small catamaran in that! Catamarans float on the surface, so are more prone to both pitching and rolling waves. A ‘proper’ boat keel cuts through the water, and is therefore less prone to throwing its passengers about every time it meets the tiniest bump in the road. Also, the faster it goes, the more the back goes down into the water.  But the boats being used were cats, called Belize Spirit and Yura respectively, so nope.  Curiously, both cats wore Diamonds International sponsorship adverts on their roofs, so one would imagine their shop might have been open, even though today is Sunday.  But we don’t buy diamonds, either!

Those who went ashore found that the water-based tours had been cancelled, due to said choppy waters.  Those who went on the trolley train (which was our plan), said it was very pleasant, but it’s Sunday and the entire place is SHUT. Not even market stalls on the quayside. Someone posted some pics on Facebook of some buildings and a statue they saw on their “stroll”, but it is NOT a place to come to for a simple tourist, and definitely not for anyone of limited mobility.  I’m sure it’s a bit more inviting and interesting when it’s not a Sunday, but, thanks to P&O, we’ll never know!

Still, the seas are turquoise and the sun shone for a while, so it was a pleasant enough view!

Tomorrow and Tuesday are Mexico – Costa Maya and Cozumel respectively.

NORA: YOUR ESSAY DEADLINE IS TUESDAY. I have received nothing to proofread yet…

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R401 Part 9

Valentine’s Day 2024.  Happy Valentine’s Day to those that celebrate it. I don’t.  I don’t celebrate the days of many Christian martyrs, come to that!

Puerto Limon, Costa Rica. Been here, done that. Didn’t get off. I think we’ve just been overdoing it and our systems are rebelling.  So we both needed a Slow Day.

As I sit and type this after dinner (roast lamb and mint sauce), I am handed my second rose of the evening.  The first, a full long-stemmed red rose from my cabin steward; the second, a shorter one from one of the drinks waiters! I do better on board for flowers than I ever have done at home!

Update on the Canal: we went through the older, smaller locks. Of course we did. Someone misunderstood the talk given beforehand!  We watched it on the telly last night – both parts. He clearly is not from an engineering background – or a speaking one, come to that. He showed us every graph from the three or four different feasibility studies and economic justification plans! He barely touched on the pioneering engineering solutions they created to solve the various issues they faced.  Which is probably what most of the audience were interested in. People don’t travel halfway around the world to look at the graphs of expected usage vs. capacity. They want to see the structures and mechanics of building new locks in the middle of a working canal. But, hey, I’m sure he was cheap, so P&O can rest easy. 

We have very strict BOB times, as we have a time slot allocated by the ports.  Think about an aeroplane takeoff slot.  We have them too, but ours are less flexible because we need the tide to be right! MANY times on this cruise, we have left late – on two occasions, we were still stationary at 10pm, having been due to depart at 6. This is extremely exasperating, because we rush to get back on time, and then sit and stare at all the stuff we could have still been doing for two or three hours.  Often we could have eaten ashore, somewhere local, which is usually fun.  We never get an explanation or apology, but it’s usually a medical issue, whereby the ship and the shore are arguing the toss about whether or not a person can be disembarked at this location – negotiating with their insurers, finding their stuff and packing it up, locating their passports, their spouses, doing the necessary offloading paperwork, hospital admission forms, ambulances, etc.  It’s a very slow process. 

But today, it wasn’t us that was late leaving, for a change. It was the Saga Ruby Princess that was moored next to us.  They were probably due to leave at about 5pm. But when I got into the cabin, Dad was counting, and he was up to 67.  It seems that several of their excursion buses had not returned, and he was counting passengers still strolling down the pier to get back on board.  There were a LOT of officers on the quayside, looking at their watches and glaring down the pier towards the land.  We sat there and watched what we thought were the last stragglers.  But the final count was somewhere in the region of 196.  They had got to cast off time with 200 passengers unaccounted for! THAT is the stuff of nightmares for a cruise captain and crew!  They eventually set off well after 6pm, and, when we’d finished laughing our heads off, we went to dinner, just after we, too, set sail.

Two sea days to come. Bliss.

I am now very confused as regards the time and date. Happy Birthday, Angie and Aicha! I don’t know if I’m late or early or what. But have a nice day!

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R401 Part 8

Update on Colon:

After I had blogged (about 3pm), we checked the Horizon and found that our BOB time was 7.30pm. This is unusually late for a P&O departure.  Even more so, as we had pegged it overnight and docked at 1am, in order to disembark someone who was in rather urgent need of medical intervention.  Which meant that we were woken up by the lack of movement, and therefore needed a lie-in to recover. It’s very hard work, all this enjoying yourself!

So we decided to venture ashore and have a look, after all. We were told there was a supermarket near the ship, and a few bits and pieces would not have gone amiss, so we had a stroll.  The first thing we encountered was Immigration.  A row of tables laden with computers and wires, and three or four bored-looking officials basking in some fairly enthusiastic air con in a warehouse/ hangar. They had loos, but no seating, so we got our passports stamped and kept going. There was a handy shortcut through the Duty Free Shop, which helped cut the corner, and out we popped, onto a road that was closed to traffic, and we pootled through the breeze to the end of the warehouse. Where someone had constructed a shopping mall. VERY new and shiny, at least half the shops weren’t even taken yet, but with more security guards than you can shake a stick at.  This is probably due to the fact that the entire mall is Duty Free. It’s called Colon 2000. All the jewellery stores were upstairs (makes it harder to get away from a robbery). Downstairs was mostly discount brands and outlet-type shops. Nothing we wanted. And no seating. We arrived at a crossroads. To the left, was an ice cream parlour with outdoor seating, overlooking the water, and to the right, was, allegedly a five minute walk to the supermarket. So we parted ways. Dad went for a sit down and I went for a wander.

Even taking into account that I’m not the fastest walker in the world, and very few countries bother to signpost supermarkets, it took me considerably more than five minutes to find and get to.  Interestingly for a port that welcomes several cruise ships a day, virtually no one spoke any English at all.  Now, I don’t travel the globe expecting to be met by locals who speak like Paddington Bear, of course not, but I usually find that, particularly near the touristy bits/cruise ship docks, most people I encounter have a basic level of English, enough to be helpful, give directions and answer a few basic questions. Here? Nope. Only the security guards.  No one else. Not a syllable. Anyway, after asking directions from someone who wasn’t from here either (!), and getting two, apparently conflicting, answers, I found my way over broken tarmac, collapsed brickwork, chained off car parks and past the graffiti and closed shutters, to the supermarket.  Praise be for efficient air con. 

This was the most ridiculously cheap supermarket I may ever have visited.  Even the expensive imported stuff was cheap.  Duracell batteries? Doublemint chewing gum?  No more expensive that the local brands. Likewise Lays (Walkers) crisps, M&Ms and Heinz Ketchup.  I stocked up on crisps and peanuts – we never buy the ones on board because they are so eye-wateringly expensive.  The store was probably a cross between a Homebase and a Sainsburys. They had masonry paint and a toy department and the most enormous bags of stuff on the shelves.  Ever been to a Makro or a Cash and Carry?  Laundry detergent in refill bags so large, I couldn’t lift one off the shelf.  5 litres? Maybe more.  Everything was VAST.  They also sold household stuff, like the bigger Tescos do – disposable barbecues, ironing boards, dog leads.  The only thing I priced that I did NOT consider cheap was the shower curtains.  The cheapest were about eight quid, and they weren’t even very pretty designs. 

Anyway, paid for my purchases 15 minutes before closing time, and bid a tearful farewell to the air con in Super 99.  When I came out, I realised why my directions had seemed confusing.  Where I had stopped to ask for help was in the middle of one side of a square block of buildings. One lady pointed one way and one lady pointed the other. Because the entrance was literally on the opposite side from where I was. So I went back the other way! In so doing, I may have visited a souvenir shop and purchased the obligatory tshirt and fridge magnet.  Ahem.  Walking back around the other way was much more pleasant, because it was along a continuation of the posh frontage of the Duty Free Mall of earlier.  It was also shorter.  I found dad in no time, and went to join the queue for the World’s Slowest Ice Cream Servers ™ inside the Gelateri.  A very nice man kept my place in the queue while I had a sit down, and then he made the lady in front of him let me go first!  Very sweet of him.  The ice cream was divine, when it finally materialised.  And, again, not expensive. About the same as from an ice cream van in the UK. Way cheaper than Dessert MK, for the Neotians. Oddly, they specialised in sundaes made with fresh cookies, which were under heated lights at one end of the counter while the ice creams were at the other end (over 20 flavours), with the till inbetween.  What with the air con, I dread to think what their leccy bill comes to!

We then tried to return to the ship. Which we were sitting looking at.  As the Rotterdam had just arrived on the evening tide and moored up next to us, and was beginning to disgorge its thousands of Americans (it is a Holland America ship with at least four more decks than us), discretion seemed the better part of valour, and we left.  However, between us and the Aurora was a fenced off construction area.  We literally had to walk back through the Duty Free Mall and then back down the length of the two Immigration warehouses, then back through the length of those warehouses, to get back to the gangplank.  Needless to say, Dad had to have a sit down halfway.  Thank heavens for the English-speaking and decent security guards, who offered him the only seat in existence.  Not like the girls in the shop. They had put the shutters down, and when we knocked and asked them to let us use the shortcut again, for Dad’s sake, they point blank refused.  Unnecessarily unkind.  I don’t like spiteful people or prejudiced people and these two girls were both.  I will be writing to their proprietors. 

So we’ve mentioned run down, and we’ve mentioned construction sites.  What I haven’t mentioned is that there were virtually no people or cars.  Those who ventured further into town came back using words like derelict, war torn, bombed out, etc. It isn’t really war damaged. It’s just VERY run down here. Apparently, they are working to improve the whole town, which they have started with the cruise dockside, but apparently, they have moved everybody out while they do it! Hence all the neglect and unrepaired damage.  Now, granted, part of the desolation was due to the fact that we were in a Christian country on a Sunday (thanks, P&O), so smaller shops and, unfortunately, both the pharmacies I passed, were closed, but the entire place seemed to be a work in progress.  Hence why the P&O excursions all headed out of town at the first opportunity!

As regards accessibility, as long as you stick to the mall near the water, the paving is as smooth as a baby’s bum, but further afield, you’ll need to walk in the road to get even the impression of a smooth surface.  They have VERY high kerbs, and none of them have dips.  There are one or two ramps to get you from down to up and back again, but they’re fairly few and far between.  And, unless you want an ice cream, there is NOWHERE, and I mean nowhere, to sit down.  Not even a bollard or flower bed to perch on for a breather.  This is NOT an easy place for those with impaired mobility of any level. I dread to think how the visually impaired would cope.

Once we had napped/ attempted to recover, we joined Ian and Lesley for the Syndicate Quiz. We gave up for a while, but we decided we didn’t want our enjoyment blighted by the Buggers Who Keep Winning, so we gave it another go.  We didn’t do badly. I think we ended up with 11 out of 20. Bearing in mind that at least three tables didn’t make it to double figures, that was pretty respectable. Even the BWKW only got 15 out of 20! They still won, of course, but we were pleased enough. Although if the quiz lady had been able to pronounce Haydn correctly, that would have been nice!

There is a very adorable little trend on board, of couples wearing matching outfits or as near as possible.  They’re so cute!

Today was the Panama Canal.  This was a half transit. This means it’s just a jaunt for cruise passengers to say they’ve done it.  We entered from the north end, went through the Gatun Locks (I’m told we used the new set, not the old ones – don’t know why, we’re small enough to use the older ones), cruised around the lake in the middle for a bit, and then came back out through the same Gatun Locks and northern entrance.  Much muttering on the Facebook page this evening about the eco-dreadfulness of spending so much money and fuel on this. 

The person doing the commentary through the canal knew precisely ZERO about the Canal, and Dad was very unimpressed with his performance.  We once had the most amazing commentator, who was a fount of knowledge.  Apparently, P&O don’t pay speakers for actually knowing what they’re talking about anymore.  The same man is advertised as giving a talk tomorrow morning about the history of P&O.  His advert reads, “Recently, P&O Cruises celebrated its 200th Anniversary, tracing its roots back to 1822…” No, it didn’t. It had its 175th Anniversary in 2012. It was founded in 1837 and is the world’s oldest passenger cruise line.  As only twelve years have elapsed since, I might venture to suggest that, using simple mathematics, we haven’t experienced 25 years.  It may have FELT like 25 years, but it was actually only twelve.  We know this because (a) I wrote a piece for Cruise International Magazine about the anniversary and history of the line, and (b) we were on board for the celebrations.  FFS.  Unlikely to be leaping out of bed to attend that one tomorrow morning. I mean, how hard can it be? Google is everyone’s friend, these days.  And Google got the date right. Yes, I checked.

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R401 Part 7

5th Feb was a sea day, mercifully! We were shattered.  This day entailed mostly naps. Happy birthday, Oded!

Tuesday was Curaçao.  We’ve been here before, and we both remembered it fondly, and were looking forward to seeing it again.  Once again, the heat and humidity were off the scale, although there was some cloud, so it didn’t seem to hit quite as hard.  Even dad was willing to venture outside!

However, P&O had found a cheaper parking space than the one we used to use.  This put us in an area that I think was called Kura.  On the “wrong” side of the Queen Emma Bridge from town. This meant a fair walk down to the ferry, or further to the bridge, itself, to cross over.  When we got to the ferry, the driver was having a nap and refused to take us across! We found out LATER that he was not obliged to if the bridge was closed/crossable.  But at the time we were just hot and exasperated. There was a bar on the opposite side of the road, so we crossed over for a drink and a sit down while we contemplated our next move. We were greeted at The Captain bar (which I think is a local chain – I’ve seen similar signage elsewhere recently) with the words, “Go away, we’re closed”.  Charming! We asked why and he said he doesn’t open til 4.30 because he’s Dutch and doesn’t like working hard.  Well, if you’re a barman and opening two diet coke bottles is too tiring, perhaps this is not the best line of work for you?! Anyway, we had a sit down anyway – he could hardly stop us! – and then staggered back up the hill to the port entrance and downhill to the gangplank and then uphill to get back on board. Most of the rest of the day/evening was sleep. I didn’t even go to dinner, because I was too tired to chew. 

For those coming here after us, you need to check the flag flying at the town end of the bridge. If it’s orange, it means that the bridge may open, but only for 10 minutes at a time. And, yes, you can ride it while it does.  The ferry is not obligated to run during an orange flag.  If the flag is blue, that means it is going to open and stay open for 45 minutes, which means the ferry HAS to run. What happens after nightfall , when you can’t see the flag, was never made clear to us.

Upsides:

(1) tomorrow is Aruba, and we aren’t planning to get off anyway, so that will give us some recovery time. 

(2) I can confirm that the suntan lotion I purchased, with insect repellent incorporated into it, definitely does work. I know this because I forgot to put on any in Curaçao, and I have some ENORMOUS bites on my legs now! For those who may be interested, it is called Malibu Daily Defense (sic).  It’s only SPF15, but that suffices for even my pale skin for several hours, without the need to reapply (assuming I’ve remembered to apply in the first place).  And I haven’t been bitten up until now so the repellent aspect works well.

Wednesday = Aruba. 

I needed a Slow Day today, so I didn’t make it to lunch until about 3pm. Thank heavens for all day service in the canteen! Fortunately, the waiters make a tremendous fuss of Dad if I’m not around, so I know he’s being looked after if I’m otherwise engaged.

Aruba update from looking out of the window: The extraordinary pink shopping centre that resembles the Neasden Temple is still here and still very pink. The bar opposite that used to have a cow on the roof is also still here. We’re moored right next to it. I’m not sure if the cow is still there, though, as it was round the other side, facing the street. I wonder if the owner continues to refuse to install a router? He used to have a sign up that said, “We don’t have wifi – talk to each other!”. 

Muzak update: Rocketman on a flute with saxophone solos – nope nope nope. Careless Whisper on the harp – meh. Bearable but odd.  Adding a saxophone at the end, which made it sound exactly like the original was even weirder. Because the harp kept going!  

For those paying more attention that I have been, Martinique was the halfway point of the cruise. We are now on the downhill bit. 

Cartagena, Colombia. Now, concentrate.  There are seven Springfields in America, and the writers of the Simpsons always refused to say which one was the inspiration for The Simpsons’ town. That’s amateur numbers. There are THIRTY, that’s THREE-ZERO places in the world called Cartagena. And more with Cartegna as part of a longer name.  We’ve been to several before, including the one in Spain that was the Carthage of Roman history.  This one was new to us.

Looking out the window, it was immediately clear that Cartegna is a very successful city. Skyscrapers filled the skyline, and the whole thing looked a bit like a graphic equaliser readout.  However, nestled behind them (well away from us!), is a UNESCO World Heritage Site – the Old Town.  This is a lovely old walled city, built to protect the financial success from the pirates of the area, who had a tendency to pop ashore and nick it all. Said financial success was built on two products: gold and slaves.

Small aside on modern parlance: Virtue signalling. I hate virtue signalling. It’s nonsense, and a thorough waste of time and electricity.  For those who are unfamiliar with the term, Virtue Signalling is where you say something to show that you are a decent, lovely person.  Much along the lines of Ardal O’Hanlon’s “Down with this sort of thing”, but without nearly as much import.  Things like, “you didn’t share that message about hating cancer, so you must therefore love cancer and don’t care a jot for people who have it”. Like I say, manifest nonsense, that means that some feel they have to virtue signal, to show they’re not a monster. Something like, “although I don’t share messages on Facebook about it, I just want to make it clear that I really do not like cancer, and want to send my support to anyone touched by it”.  Fatuous nonsense.

The reason for this mini-rant? Well, P&O is cutting corners right, left and centre, as you know, and one of the things that went first was the paper Port Guides.  ALLEGEDLY, they are available for free on the ship’s gratis intranet, but I haven’t found them yet!  Now, granted, they were riddled with errors, spelling mistakes, downright untruths and often were as much use as a chocolate fire guard, but it’s the thought that counts! It gave us a map (of sorts)(of varying reliability and usefulness – like the one that didn’t show the shuttle bus stop), and a vague idea of the currency, language and history of the place we were being let loose in. Dad and I have kept them. We have a HUGE folder full at home!  But it’s no use if we visit somewhere we’ve never been before. Such as, say, Cartegna in Colombia.

I have, however, found a website, called Cruise Crocodile. It is still in its infancy, and is buried under roughly one million adverts and pop-ups, but when you get past them, it’s actually got some rather useful port guides, and one of them was for Cartegna, Colombia. It gives the history of the Old Town (built in 1553 by a Spaniard who named it after his home town).  That it became one of the wealthiest places in the Caribbean.  That the pirates came for the wealth, so in the 17th century they built the wall around the city, to protect themselves. As I mentioned above. But where it talks about the gold and slavery, it refers to this “gruesome” trade.  That’s the virtue signalling I mentioned. That one adjective, gruesome. It’s not necessary. We know perfectly well that slavery is not a Good Thing. We don’t need to be told it’s a horrible thing to buy and sell people.  That’s just virtue signalling. It’s saying, “I wrote this but I don’t approve of it, so I’m going to make it clear that I think this is a Bad Thing, so you know I don’t think it’s a Good Thing”.  It’s totally unnecessary. It’s bordering on tautology, in my opinion.  It’s like saying “The Black Death killed a lot of people. This was not a good thing”. It’s not necessary.  We know that a third of the population of Europe died. We are capable of figuring out for ourselves that that was not considered to be a beneficial outcome (although it really was, but that’s another story altogether).  Virtue signalling is just stating the obvious. Slavery is a gruesome trade. No, REALLY?! Who’d ‘a thunk?!

We didn’t go to the Old City, for a variety of reasons. Not least of which was the Cruise Terminal was FANTASTIC. It’s a destination in and of itself!  It’s a 600 yard walk, but they provide a free shuttle bus, for which Dad was rather grateful, and some of them are even air conditioned!  When you arrive you are greeted with a one-way system.  This takes you through a sort of wild aviary, under tunnels of trees, to enclosures of flamingos, peacocks, parrots, and a few monkeys.  They are free to roam and fly as they wish, but they know where to wait for the feeding stations, and the parrots are extremely accomplished at sitting on human heads for the taking of photographs.  There is almost no bird poo to be seen, although the monkeys are not quite as respectful in that regard.  There are two outdoor cafes and a large indoor market selling tourist tat, with some of the best air con we’ve found so far.  So I shopped while Dad sat and watched other people being abused, pooed on or ignored by the nearby wildlife.  A small bottle of coke was about eight quid, but that didn’t dull our enjoyment in the slightest. 

I have refrained from commenting too much about the heat and humidity so far in this blog, because I know that, at home, my road is flooded closed, AGAIN, and you are all cold and miserable.  But we have had temperatures consistently over 30 degrees ever since New Orleans, and the humidity is now so high that the waiters have to mop the CEILINGS, because the air con is causing such condensation where it meets the outside air that it’s dripping on the diners!

Today is Sunday 11th February 2024, and we are in the Port of Colon. There is very little to do here. The half dozen excursions P&O were able to cobble together all relate to the Panama Canal, and start with an hour’s drive, to get away from the port!  This is a Rest Day for us.  Even Cruise Crocodile hasn’t mustered a port guide for this place yet. It’s a working port.  Cranes and containers and little lorries driving around waiting to have containers plonked on their backs by even littler forklifts. But it’s Sunday, in a Christian country, so there’s not much activity to speak of. Which undoubtedly means P&O got a discount on the parking fees! **sigh**

NORA, essay deadline: ONE WEEK.

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R401 part 6

The day after St Vincent was Barbados. We don’t get off here anymore.  Because it is the furthest east of all the Caribbean islands, EVERYONE stops here, both on the way out and on the way back across the Atlantic; it reduces the risk of cabin fever amongst the landlubbers aboard.  We stayed on board and caught up on chores – like blogging and napping and checking bank accounts are still solvent! Apparently, our usual spot, The Boatyard, was so overcrowded they had to close to new visitors! Glad we weren’t there for that! There are always a good half dozen cruise ships in, minimum. There was talk of a dozen today, but that might be a slight exaggeration! But even six of the newer, much larger, ships is potentially THIRTY THOUSAND passengers, all going ashore looking for a beach. And don’t forget, crew and staff are allowed ashore too!

I was glad of the day off, because the next day was Martinique.  For those who have lost count, that is six ports in six days. What were they thinking when they plotted that itinerary! Thank heavens they included Barbados, so we could plan a rest day. 

Martinique is France. Not French. Not French-speaking, France.  The currency is the Euro, and the flag is the bleu blanc rouge of the tricolore.  And they speak proper French. Not a Creole that I have trouble understanding, proper French. It was lovely. Unfortunately, P&O couldn’t pass up the chance to save a few pennies, and we were the only ship in, because we arrived on a Sunday. France is closed on Sundays.  That’s why the parking is cheap.  (By the way, Paris, hiking the parking for heavy cars is a very silly idea, particularly as electric cars are heavier than petrol and diesel!).

Oddly, as soon as anyone realised we were British, all they wanted to talk about was Brexit. I had to explain to several different people that, generally speaking, no one really talks much about Brexit at home! They seemed curiously obsessed about it.

Some touristy stalls and bars had set up on the quayside, playing French music (we’ve heard a LOT of English language reggae, especially Bob Marley, these past few days) and offering seating and shade. So I purchased the obligatory trinkets and tshirt and then went to one of the bars for a sit down.  They were just putting out extra tables and chairs for two new arrivals, so I joined them.  We chatted for about an hour. They complimented me on my French.  They also thought I was from Alsace (that’s what the University de Caen administrator thought when I rang her in 1997!), so I must have a pretty consistent accent.  We discussed the teaching of English in schools – they now start in primary school – and Matthieu’s nephew is ten and speaks four languages fluently – French, English, Spanish and Portuguese. The older gentleman never gave his name, but it didn’t matter. We had a lovely time for an hour, watching the very happy-looking drug addicts dancing to the music and saying hello to everyone – not begging – just passing.

There is a very big drug smuggling problem here, because there are so many small coves for small boats to come into during the night, and no way to patrol them all.  From here, it’s a straight flight into mainland Europe – Martinique is a French department, and so it is inside the Schengen area.  Flying from here to Paris is an internal flight! Which reminds me, did the recent cannabis find make it to the UK news? Two cruise passengers boarded a ship to sail from the US to the UK. Homeland Security were called, and they each had something like 57 kilos of cannabis in their bags.  Apparently, it’s better to sell it in the UK because they can get a significantly higher price there, compared to the US. You live and learn.

Anyway, I spent a lovely hour chatting in French with two complete strangers, interrupted only by my brief visit to a Very Complicated Toilet ™.  They had a single accessible automated cubicle thingy.  Firstly, it wouldn’t let me in because it was cleaning itself.  Then, when the door did open, everything was sopping wet! In order to get toilet paper, you have to wave your hand in front of a sensor on the wall and it feeds out a certain amount. You want more? Wave again. Want more? Wait. Then wave again. And so on.  The first portion was used to dry the seat!  Then, when you’re done, you wave to flush. The soap and water are both plentiful and also sourced by waving at sensors. They even have sensitivity as to flow rate. The closer you put your hand, the more soap you get and the stronger the water flows.  All very clever.  Cleverest of all: the door open is a BUTTON. So you can’t wave your hand and open it by accident! All of which was explained very clearly by an automated voice – female – in French.  The signage was in French and English, but the talky lady was French only.  Still, clean and well-stocked. Not like Guadeloupe, when I had to wander the streets begging for loo roll!

Dad didn’t come ashore here. We were moored at an L-shaped pier, that struck out from the shore across the shallows, and then bent round so that we could moor alongside and have several gangways down.  He was right not to. I counted. It was 515 paces from the end of the gangplank to the land.  Not for those with limited walking ability!  There were pedicabs to get you around once you’d got there (all powered by women), but they weren’t allowed onto the pier, which is very silly, as that’s where they were needed the most!

They seem very fond of painting their tarmac here. On the shore, there was a huge pavement painting, apparently commemorating the Martinikais’ contribution to the Resistance in WWII.  It’s probably very pretty from the air, but at ground level, it’s just large patches of colour with names painted in white! The pier was also painted – green for pavements and blue for roadway.  And some colour co-ordinated (ie blue and green!) patterny bits here and there.

So, although some were disappointed that everything was shut, I absolutely loved it here, and this is somewhere I would love to come back to again sometime.