Cozumel, Grand Cayman and Jamaica



The weather isn’t any one person’s fault.  But it really is quite depressing when the weather is so windy and the sea so rough, it delays our arrival in a port, causes us to have to moor on the other side of the island to that planned and causes the cancellation of half a dozen tours. Primarily because this means that there will be more people clogging up the stuff that we want to use instead! Like taxis and so on. Of course, if I had a decent map of the island, I’d feel better about it. But there’s no internet access.  Again.  So we are reliant on the dubious accuracy of the port guide map.  Doesn’t fill me with confidence, I must confess.

Yesterday was windy but pleasant in Cozumel, an island off the coast of Mexico. Although the sun didn’t shine, it was overcast and quite dark at times, it was warm – in the eighties – and the day was pleasant enough. It was very windy, and the sea crashed over the beach and sea wall causing spray to hit us on the prom! When we went inland (the island is about 30 miles by 9), the wind was much less so we saw the Mayan ruins in quite pleasant conditions. Got bitten to pieces, mind. How on earth did I get bitten BETWEEN my fingers?! Arms, I can understand. Legs, even in trousers, are comprehensible. But between my fingers?! For heaven’s sake!

We couldn’t find anywhere open to eat that served food Mum would eat, so we ended up in McDonalds (sorry, James!), where I drank a Fanta of so virulent a colour orange, I was sure I would be quite stoned for the rest of the afternoon. Sort of International Orange (the colour of the Golden Gate Bridge and Easyjet). Quite alarming. I suppose Fanta looked like that in the UK before the restrictions on food colourings came into force, but I’m sure I don’t remember ever drinking anything quite that bright, even when I was young. I took a photo, because I doubt anyone would believe it otherwise. When I upload my photos to my photobucket album, you’ll be able to see for yourselves.

Today we are attempting to visit Grand Cayman. See paragraph 1 above for how that’s going so far. Suffice to say, it is 10.40 and I have time to sit and blog…

Much much later: very disappointing. Beautiful weather, gorgeous beaches, but the taxi drivers were vile money-grabbing swine who made unobliging an art form and the tour organisers from the ship deliberately made us wait around for two hours for nothing and completely ruined our chances of seeing the island independently. I’ve been annoyed with P&O before, frustrated and irked, but never before have I been this angry. We arrived late and left on time, so they knew what time we had was valuable. And yet, through a mixture of arrogance, incompetence and wilful vicious self-interest, they deliberately messed us around. I was incandescent with rage and have not fully calmed down. When will I ever get the chance to go there again?! Thanks a lot, P&O.

Today is (supposed to be) Ocho Rios. It is 9.45am and is, to quote Dad, “tipping it down”, so we’re not rushing off. There’s very little to see here, just shopping, so there’s no mad dash to get everything done. I might go and see Firefly if there’s time. This was originally a pirate look-out post but is most famous for being Noel Coward’s house. This area is steeped in pirate history. Every stop we’ve made, every single one, has had a guide telling us of pirate comings and goings. One man from the ship yesterday in Grand Cayman, who was clearly an utter moron, got all uppity when our pirate guide, Captain Splash (aka Steve the Canadian) said that Francis Drake was a pirate. Of course he was, he was just licensed by the Crown to do it to other countries’ ships and not our own! Idiot. He kept saying “he’s our national history”. I think he meant hero. No idea what a privateer was. Not a clue. Seriously, this is the calibre of companion we get on these things. There is no intelligence test to having enough money to go on cruises, you know. Any idiot can, and, clearly, does. You cannot even conceive of the level of stupidity of some of these people. Trust me. You know what? If you know nothing about your own country’s history, SHUT UP!

It’s still raining in Jamaica. Still, there’s John Cusack on the telly and Mama Mia at the cinema, so maybe I won’t get off at all!


The weather isn’t any one person’s fault. But it really is quite depressing when the weather is so windy and the sea so rough, it delays our arrival in a port, causes us to have to moor on the other side of the island to that planned and causes the cancellation of half a dozen tours. Primarily because this means that there will be more people clogging up the stuff we want to use instead! Like taxis and so on. Of course, if I had a decent map of the island, I’d feel better about it. But there’s no internet access. Again. So we are reliant on the dubious accuracy of the port guide map. Doesn’t fill me with confidence, I must confess. 

Yesterday was windy but pleasant in Cozumel, an island off the coast of Mexico. Although the sun didn’t shine, it was overcast and quite dark at times, it was warm – in the eighties – and the day was pleasant enough. It was very windy, and the sea crashed over the beach and sea wall causing spray to hit us on the prom! When we went inland (the island is about 30 miles by 9), the wind was much less so we saw the Mayan ruins in quite pleasant conditions. Got bitten to pieces, mind. How on earth did I get bitten BETWEEN my fingers?! Arms, I can understand. Legs, even in trousers, are comprehensible. But between my fingers?! For heaven’s sake!

We couldn’t find anywhere open to eat that served food Mum would eat, so we ended up in McDonalds (sorry, James!), where I drank a Fanta of so virulent a colour orange, I was sure I would be quite stoned for the rest of the afternoon. Sort of International Orange (the colour of the Golden Gate Bridge and Easyjet). Quite alarming. I suppose Fanta looked like that in the UK before the restrictions on food colourings came into force, but I’m sure I don’t remember ever drinking anything quite that bright, even when I was young. I took a photo, because I doubt anyone would believe it otherwise. When I upload my photos to my photobucket album, you’ll be able to see for yourselves.

Today we are attempting to visit Grand Cayman. See paragraph 1 above for how that’s going so far. Suffice to say, it is 10.40 and I have time to sit and blog…

Much much later: very disappointing. Beautiful weather, gorgeous beaches, but the taxi drivers were vile money-grabbing swine who made unobliging an art form and the tour organisers from the ship deliberately made us wait around for two hours for nothing and completely ruined our chances of seeing the island independently. I’ve been annoyed with P&O before, frustrated and irked, but never before have I been this angry. We arrived late and left on time, so they knew what time we had was valuable. And yet, through a mixture of arrogance, incompetence and wilful vicious self-interest, they deliberately messed us around. I was incandescent with rage and have not fully calmed down. When will I ever get the chance to go there again?! Thanks a lot, P&O.

Today is (supposed to be) Ocho Rios. It is 9.45am and is, to quote Dad, “tipping it down”, so we’re not rushing off. There’s very little to see here, just shopping, so there’s no mad dash to get everything done. I might go and see Firefly if there’s time. This was originally a pirate look-out post but is most famous for being Noel Coward’s house. This area is steeped in pirate history. Every stop we’ve made, every single one, has had a guide telling us of pirate comings and goings. One man from the ship yesterday in Grand Cayman, who was clearly an utter moron, got all uppity when our pirate guide, Captain Splash (aka Steve the Canadian) said that Francis Drake was a pirate. Of course he was, he was just licensed by the Crown to do it to other countries’ ships and not our own! Idiot. He kept saying “he’s our national history”. I think he meant hero. No idea what a privateer was. Not a clue. Seriously, this is the calibre of companion we get on these things. There is no intelligence test to having enough money to go on cruises, you know. Any idiot can, and, clearly, does. You cannot even conceive of the level of stupidity of some of these people. Trust me. You know what? If you know nothing about your own country’s history, SHUT UP!

It’s still raining in Jamaica. Still, there’s John Cusack on the telly and Mama Mia at the cinema, so maybe I won’t get off at all! Here endeth part 3

 

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