Wednesday 13^th January – sea day

Had a lie in, in view of my somewhat late and disturbed night. Met the parents for lunch. Subodh found me (head waiter who promised to take care of me). He offered me a choice: GF pasta or a GF burger. I chose the burger. He brought it to my table, complete with fries and ketchup. It was YUMMY. And just so nice not to have to fight and argue for the right to eat it.

After lunch, I went to see The Martian on the big screen in the theatre. Loved it. Just brilliant. And a surprising amount of laugh out loud humour, which I was not expecting.

Then went to Reception to complete my accident report. Got a muppet. Took me ages to get the right form and then, when I completed it, the Head of Security, Martin, came out to discuss it. Apparently, he has so little else to do, he investigates all accidents on board. I asked him why the suitcases had to be in the cabins under the beds, because they are creating a trip hazard where there doesn’t need to be one. Then I went back to my cabin for a rest.

Then Martin turned up with Umesh, my steward, to take a photo under my bed (I kid you not). Not sure why the steward needed to be there. The fact that he had not done my room today (because of my lie-in) was probably a point against him, but it’s hardly his fault that they won’t store the suitcases properly.

Not long after, Martin rang me to say they wouldn’t apologise or compensate me because they don’t consider it their fault or problem. Nice.

So now I have to continue the next few weeks of my trip with a limp. No yoga, no walking a mile with dad every day, no taking the stairs, not even sure I can swim. Lovely.

Went to dinner. Well, got ready for dinner. Was planning a shower, now that things are calmer, but went into the bathroom to find what we will gloss over for now and refer to purely as brown water sloshing around the floor under the toilet.  Rang Reception and asked for a plumber. Went to dinner.

Had a lovely meal. I do like our tablemates. Shame we will lose all but one in Valparaiso.

But on return to my cabin, after avocado, lamb and veg, and jelly and a gluten-free roll and butter (and the obligatory two diet cokes, don’t forget!), I found that my toilet issue had not been fixed. Queue more ringing Reception and an incremental increase in yelling. Apparently the phrase RAW SEWAGE is not enough of a stimulus to get anyone to actually give a damn. Reception denied all knowledge of my ever having called,  and sent the Deck Supervisor. He apologised profusely, denied all knowledge of my ever having called and said he would ring the plumber direct, himself. I said if there wasn’t a plumber in my presence within fifteen minutes, I would scoop up the liquid and go and find the captain’s cabin, pour it on his floor and see how he liked it. Queue embarrassed smiles. And, less than ten minutes later? A plumber.  Who had, in fact, been working around the corner and my steward went and got him. Who had not been informed of an issue that I reported over two and a half hours earlier. Typing this while he crashes and bangs, and then the steward has promised to sanitise the entire bathroom for me when the plumber is done. Which is very sweet of him. He shouldn’t have to clean everything twice just because no one else can be arsed to do their jobs properly (or, indeed, at all).

Went to Reception, while he was working, to make a formal complaint about the two and a half hours of raw sewage and what they thought they were doing when they ignored the issue for that long. Had to get the Reception Manager out from his dinner break. Like I care. I have a bathroom floor I daren’t walk on in bare feet. Makes washing kind of tricky. Ever.

2140. Men have arrived to clean the bathroom. And I mean clean. Hands and knees with the strong stuff they use for norovirus cleanup. Kills all known germs and also ones you haven’t heard of. Kills everything. Allegedly. We’ll see, won’t we!

On the plus side, the air temperature outside seems to be rising nicely – mid teens now we are halfway down Portugal, so maybe I will go for a walk and leave them all to it. Clear my head and breathe some uncontaminated air for a while. I am heartily sick of being in this cabin, and, in fact, of this whole cruise. I have been in tears every day so far, and I really don’t know how much more of this I can take.

Still, Robocop the Remake is keeping me entertained while they scrub.

2330. In the end, I went out. I went up to the buffet and got some fruit and then wandered through the various pubs and bars trying to find a band with a singer who could hold a tune. Ended up bumping into Hugh from our dinner table, and we had a drink and a chat together. He’s a fun person to hang out with, and funny, too. Came back to a wet and slightly wet-dog smelly carpet and brand new pair of slippers. Still not sure I’m happy to walk around the bathroom in bare feet, but we’ll see how it goes.

Tuesday 12^th January 2016 – at sea

By ‘eck, it’s bumpy. We are just coming to the Western Approaches, where the Channel meets the Atlantic and the Irish Sea. We are right at the tip of Cornwall. This is usually the worst possible bit of any journey. The best way through is to stay sat down, or better still, lie down, until it’s over. This is when a not snowy tv reception would be most useful, as it is one of the times when I stay in the cabin and move around as little as possible. I don’t get ill, I just don’t like falling over, and when the ground is moving from under you constantly, in a variety of unpredictable directions, sitting is definitely the safer option.  This is also the time when it would be most advantageous to have a cabin on a lower deck.  Sadly, on this trip, I am on C deck, which is the highest I have ever been, and, most bumpy it is too. I also have a cabin right near the back of the ship and also as far to one side as possible, which just increases the movement possibilities. It is a cabin that we have laughed at others for taking. I’ll cope, but probably by sleeping a lot. The unceasing rocking motion has the rather beneficial side effect of making you feel like you’re being rocked to sleep, so, provided you don’t mind a bit of creaking, and the unused wooden coat hangers chiming against the sides as they attempt to make a break for it out of the wardrobes they are shackled to (yes, we have the ones that are welded in – cruise passengers will nick anything, given half a chance), it’s a very soothing sensation, and quite hard to stay awake. Allegedly, outside, according to the Passenger Information Channel PowerPoint on channel 24 (why don’t they start at one like normal people?!) it is currently a Force 8 wind and the air temperature is 9 degrees. The sea state is described as “rough”. I’m staying right here. *nods*

Fyi, the only channels that have no snow, and are therefore watchable, are Sky News and Sky Sports. Not my first choice, but it will have to do for now. Actually, the mast cam channel is playing some decent music (Cruise Radio Arcadia, I kid you not) and the picture is surprisingly calm-looking, so maybe I’ll leave it here for a bit. The camera on the mast can be accessed via the P&O website, if you are seized by a desperate urge to see what I see at any time.  It is currently at a slightly jaunty angle, but the horizon is (pretty much) horizontal, so it’s not too disorientating.  The number of white horses seems to be diminishing, which is nice, but I could have established that just by standing up.  It’s when the bow disappears under the waves (which I have seen in the past – can’t watch that for long, believe me), you need to worry. This is fine. The music is currently a Terence Trent D’Arby song I’ve heard before. I’d know that voice anywhere, but the song is not familiar. Very odd, but pleasant, nonetheless.

Right, can’t sit here enjoying myself. Spanish class starts in half an hour and I’m still in my pyjamas.

Some time later: Couldn’t join the Spanish class. There were people standing in the doorways. Not enough seats for all. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. Gave up. Went up to the canteen/self service restaurant had had some fruit. Whatever anyone tells you, don’t believe them when they say you cannot eat healthily on a cruise ship if you want to. Ate a whole plateful, so that’s the five a day done for today – cantaloupe, galia, watermelon, two plums and some pineapple, for the detail-minded among you. Met Janet and David, the first couple I have found who are doing the whole thing, like us. Everyone else seems to be getting off at either Rio or Valparaiso.

Then lunch. And it all went to hell. I had been dreading it so much that Dad offered to come with me. And I was right. They had done nothing we were promised in our emails with Southampton and the head chef of Arcadia. They had not labelled gluten free food options. They had not MADE any gluten free options. Apparently coeliacs are not allowed hot food for lunch, unless they are happy to eat, and I quote “curry or chips”. That’s it? That’s it. Salad, curry or chips. Not even a hot vegetable. Needless to say, I did not consider that this was an acceptable offering for the next four months of my life. I tried asking for gluten free pasta. “No”. NO?! Are you kidding me? Have you EVER heard of customer service?! You don’t say NO to a customer! EVER! Particularly not a customer who, paying single person supplement for her holiday, has already paid TWICE for every meal anyway. Head waiter very unhelpful. Just shrugged and offered me soup. In the end, the restaurant manager saw me crying and came over to see us. He said he would fix everything. I don’t have to decide today what I want to eat tomorrow.  I don’t have to book, beg or ask permission. I CAN have gluten free pasta, if I want. I WILL get the gluten free burgers I was promised IN WRITING. He will take care of my lunches personally, every single day for the rest of this cruise. In the end, I just ate some chips and a bowl of tomato soup and a jelly. It’s enough, and by then I was so distressed, I had difficulty swallowing anyway. I cancelled everything I had planned for the afternoon and went to bed. Couldn’t go for a walk anyway (raining), couldn’t do yoga (too rough), couldn’t face trying to get into Spanish again. Will try and start my life again tomorrow.

Maybe I should rename this entry: “How to ruin a passenger’s entire sea day in one easy step”. Just lie to them. Say anything to get them to shut up. Whether that’s in person, on the Oceana, when we discussed this trip with the Executive Chef, and he said he would pass on our concerns THEN to the Head Chef of the Arcadia. Whether that’s in writing, by email in our correspondence with Karen – head of Special Diet Reservations in Southampton, because I wrote when we got back and said how much I was dreading lunch on the Arcadia (that’s when I was promised gluten-free burgers that would be made ready for my arrival). Or when the Only Coeliac on the Ship Who Apparently Eats Lunch pitches up and says, well, having made me all these promises, what can I eat? Just lie, prevaricate and insult her until she gives up and goes away to cry. That’ll cover it. That’s not going to cause any problems for the next 114 days. Oh no, not at all. That’s all dealt with now.

Watch this space. Tomorrow will either be fine or ALL HOLY HELL is going to get loose.

By contrast, dinner went very well. Hugh is very entertaining, Bob was a bit more vocal and Peter got more chatty whilst we were examining his gluten-free beer (from Suffolk). The only fly in the ointment was that, for some reason, our corner of the restaurant was FREEZING. In the end, the head waiter had to lend me a spare jacket (kept for those who don’t come up to dress code on posh nights).  I bought my own diet cokes in from the bar outside the restaurant and drank them veeerry slowly. I’m pretty sure the wine waiter saw them.  And he’ll be seeing them every night for the next four months. Aside from that, everyone seemed happy with their meal, which was nice, and we discussed power cuts we have experienced on previous cruises. Turns out Bob has travelled on Costa ships, as have Peter and Nicky, but he’s done it SINCE Costa Concordia.  Wouldn’t be MY choice…but he had no complaints, other than the fact that muster is carried out on deck, come rain or shine. Different, but you can see why they would feel it necessary.

Update: After I went to bed, I made the mistake of getting up in the night. This was a mistake because… No, from the beginning. Usually, on P&O ships, empty suitcases can be stored in the hold, out of the way. I won’t need them for months, after all, so why have them cluttering up my cabin? However, when I put them out on this ship, the steward informed me that they were not allowed to put them in the hold on the Arcadia, and I would have to have them in my room. He assured me he would make them fit. When I came back after dinner, the big case had, as promised vanished. I assume he got it under the bed somehow. Good for him. However, what I did not notice was that one wheel of a case was now sticking out from under the bed. The coverlet thingy that hides the base hid this also. Which meant that, when I got up in the night, the little toe of my right foot slammed straight into it. I tried to run cold water on it, but the shower would only give warm water. So I rang for some ice.  Which helped a little, but not enough. And, of course, I am at PRECISELY the opposite end of the ship from the medical centre. But I limped there anyway. A shop girl found me near the medical centre and telephoned them for help. The nurse came to the door and greeted me with “You do realise we are closed, don’t you”. “Oh, I apologise”, I said. “I will try and ensure I break my toe during normal working hours in future”. She backtracked, saying she was concerned I had been waiting outside, despite the fact that no one had suggested any such thing. She looked at my toe and said it was “probably” broken, but any examination by a doctor and/or x-ray would have to wait til morning, and would be chargeable. I’m damned if you’re charging me for damaging me!

So I got sent back to my cabin (a porter pushed me there in a wheelchair) and told to ICE (ice, compression, elevation) it. Here endeth the day. Again.

Here  beginneth the longest cruise we have ever done. 115 days.

Itinerary here.

I could moan about the fact that P&O allow unlimited baggage, but the coach company that takes you to Southampton limits you to three suitcases. But we managed. I ended up with four and a half cases and one vanity case. Mum had three and a half cases and four vanities. Dad made up the rest of the nine. But, what a palaver trying to prep for a cruise this long in just four months! Usually we plan eighteen months ahead! I have no idea if I have enough cosmetics, or underwear, or notepaper, or anything. Meh, we’ll figure it out. What’s the worst that can happen?

Monday 11 January 2016 – departure

On board. At last. Snowy tv signal and no broadband whatsoever, so heaven only knows when you’ll get to read this! If this is how things are in port, I dread to think what it will be like when we actually set sail. Good grief.

Leaving the house was surprisingly stress-free, considering we had only one minicab in which to fit nine large cases, five vanity cases and one very big, heavy piece of fragile hand luggage (laptops). Luckily, Amir came in the biggest car I have ever seen. Strictly speaking, it was referred to as an eight-seater, but it had so much room, we could have taken more luggage if we wanted! And more people! When we got to the coach stop, the coach was already there, and the entire passenger list was nine people, so we had all the room we could have wanted. The journey down was smooth and relaxed, and Adrian the driver was very friendly. His coach’s little loo had a choice of 9 different soaps. Cola bottle scented?! Gave that one a miss, but thanks for the offer…

Boarding was as irritating as ever. They have developed the American habit at Security of changing the rules every time you visit. Last time, I just wheeled the buggy through. This time, they wanted it lifted up onto the conveyor belt to go through the bag scanner. Dad hurt his back yesterday, packing, and mine hasn’t quite recovered from some damage a couple of weeks ago, so we refused to lift it. They had to find a stevedore, because they’re not allowed to lift things either. Why they think we should damage ourselves to humour them, I have no idea, but we all got quite annoyed. In fact, Dad got so annoyed, he forgot to empty his pockets, so they tortured him all over again, just for the fun of it.

But we’re here now. And breathe…

My cabin is quite nice (despite the television’s reception). I have a sneaking suspicion it is the same size screen as I have at home, which seems far too big for a room this size.  It takes up over half the dressing table/desk space, which is irksome, because I could have used that space. The décor has a slightly seventies feel, with dingy wall lighters, spotlights in the ceiling and overly-huge mirrors. There seems to be shockingly little storage.  It’s going to be quite a feat to get all my stuff in here. Particularly with such an unnecessarily large fridge taking up ALL the spare space under the desk/dressing table.  Likewise with the bathroom – lovely huge shower – about four feet long – but shockingly little storage space/cupboards. Can’t seem to make the safe lock, but, that’s still better than the alternative, I suppose (not being able to unlock it!). All in all, so far so good.  Of course, as none of my luggage arrived until after muster, at about 5.45, although we boarded just after 1pm, I didn’t get it all unpacked before dinner anyway. After dinner, I got most of it sorted, although some socks and underwear and next week’s pyjamas had to go back in a case under the bed. On the plus side, as the whole room stinks of food (I think the aircon intake is next to the restaurant up on deck, and there isn’t much wind, so I can sit here and tell you what everyone had for dinner), by leaving them in the case, they will be a bit protected from stinking of roast beef!

Dinner companions: Sheila, bad leg (broke her femur on this very ship two years ago), uses a walker (sort of a folding Zimmer frame), very funny and mischievous and thinks I’m fab. Hugh, the only person I have met so far going further than Valparaiso, and even he is going home from San Diego (because he says his insurance won’t cover him any further?! bit odd, might have to investigate that further), Peter and Nicky (he is quite deaf and talks VERY quietly, even I can’t hear him and I’m directly opposite him on an oval table) – Peter is also coeliac and his prior requests were ignored as well, just like mine. For some reason, it doesn’t matter how far ahead you book or warn people you have dietary needs, on the first night, no one gives a damn. They just say “We’ll do it tomorrow. Make do tonight”. Which is both trying and annoying. If I wanted to make do, I wouldn’t have bothered contacting you in advance *sigh*. And you know perfectly well, because when we do discuss tomorrow, you produce a typewritten list that shows everyone at the table and who needs what. Irksome. Not fully annoyed, but just irked. And Bob. Know nothing about him yet at all. He’s quiet but cheery is the best I can divine thus far.

I usually order two diet cokes at dinner. They have a card you can buy, so that you can, essentially, buy soft drinks/coffees/ice creams (that’s three different cards, before you ask) in bulk and get a slightly cheaper rate. So I asked the wine waiter for a soft drinks card, and he said he would get me one, but I could not use it the dining room. Really? I have done on every other cruise I’ve been on in the past decade or so. Why not? Because we don’t have a draught pump – they are only in the bars. Oh, I need a bar? Like the one that is JUST OUTSIDE THE DINING ROOM DOOR then? It seems odd to refuse to do this for someone who is going all the way around. Wine waiters are on commission, so for every drink he serves me, he would have made money, personally, in his own pocket. Now, for the rest of the FOUR MONTHS I’m on this ship, I will buy my drinks from someone else and bring them into dinner and he can sit and watch me drink them and wonder who got his cut. He has deliberately refused the commission on 115 soft drinks (he doesn’t know it would have been 230), which seems very silly behaviour. Still, his loss. *shrug* Literally, in fact.

Talking of odd behaviour that makes no sense and seems purely designed to annoy, at muster, I was sent down the stairs. Five decks. Charming. I asked why I couldn’t use the lift. “Because in an emergency, you mustn’t use the lifts, in case the power is lost”. I get that, but this is not an emergency, it’s a drill. And I am on holiday. Why can’t I use the lift? “In case the power goes”. No, I mean now. Yes, now. And you need to learn the route. Down the stairs?! Oh, FFS. If you’re going to be that stupid/obtuse/dumb ignorant, there’s no point in even bothering. When I got there? Everyone else I spoke to had used the lifts. My knees were delighted.

I’m pretty shattered (five flights of stairs may not have helped with this). It’s been a rather long day, and my nap was rudely interrupted by the muster announcements, so I may have to have an early night. It took me nearly two hours to unpack, so a break is definitely overdue. I do have some stuff to do, and some menu typos to download (yes, already!). But they can wait til morning. Gnight.

Day Fourteen – Sea Day 3 of 3 – last day before Southampton and home

Or, in this instance, bumpety bump.

The last day always goes by in a whirl. It was still warm enough for shorts and flip-flops, but still a little on the bumpy side (it’ll calm down again once we enter the Channel). A mixture of packing and filling in forms took up most of the day. Dad met with the Customer Services Manager to discuss not only the party in Ajaccio and the offence it probably caused, but the miserable way our complaint has been handled by her staff.

My cabin steward blotted his copybook tonight (not wise the day before tip day!), by not having finished my cabin by the time I came back from dinner. He said he had started at the other end today. Really? You’ve been so badly trained that no one told you to do the first sitting passengers while they are out, and then do the second sitting passengers when THEY, in turn, go for dinner? Seems pretty bloomin’ obvious to me, but then I think I’ve been on cruise ships a lot longer than most of the crew on this ship. I’ve actually started to wonder if this is a training ship, where new staff come to learn their trade, before being let loose on ‘proper’ passengers on ‘proper’ ships. Because there isn’t a single department on here that hasn’t in some way behaved in an incompetent/ downright shambolic manner at some point over the last two weeks. Food? Tick. Cabins? Now tick. Reception/Customer Service? Tick. Maintenance? Didn’t stop hammering during the minute’s silence. Tick. It’s pretty woeful, frankly.

Still, for all my apparent criticisms, the weather has been brilliant and all the ports enjoyable, so overall, we had a good time. We always do. It takes a lot to ruin a cruise in our eyes – we’re usually just really happy to be there. But the little niggles that mar things, and prevent you from having an even better time, they’re the ones that bug me. Because they CAN do it, when they can be bothered. It just seems that, on Oceana, at the moment, they can’t.

Next cruise: January 2016. Toodle pip!

Day Thirteen

Sea Day again. Yay!

Boy, there are a lot of speed bumps and potholes off the coast of Portugal. It’s very bumpy today. Quite hard to stay awake, to be honest, because it’s so soothing, the rocking motion. Except when we hit a pothole and your teeth bang together. That’s not so soothing.

Got up early today and went to see a film. First one I’ve made it to on this entire cruise. The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Thoroughly enjoyed it. They have no theatre on here, so they lower a big screen onto the stage of the theatre, which means very comfy tiered seating, but right at the bow of the ship, so not the best location on a bumpy day. Particularly when we are mostly pitching, not rolling. Still, I enjoyed it thoroughly. Such a wonderful cast.

I have watched some movies in my cabin, though. I think I mentioned Frozen and Paddington. If I Stay was VERY good – highly recommended, The Fault in our Stars was not nearly as schmaltzy as I was fearing – very enjoyable, and I have also seen Mockingjay Part 1 – I think, I missed the first few minutes. I have also watched bits of The Theory of Everything, Annie, and Still Alice, but none grabbed me enough to stay for more, and one film I cannot find the name for. The bit I saw was a man in a spacesuit trapped in another dimension (time) inside a bookcase and he communicates with his daughter using Morse code to make her watch stop. Does that ring a bell with anyone? It was weird, but weirdly enjoyable. If I could find out what it was called, I might endeavour to watch the whole film some day. Please let me know if you know which film I am babbling about.

Then a late lunch up top in the sunshine, but indoors (a bit blowy for outdoors – hence the bumpiness). The white horses are rather plentiful in this neck of the woods – the Bay of Biscay –but the stabilisers are dealing with most of it. Some people refuse to cross the Bay, and fly into and out of Barcelona in order to skip it. I don’t see the problem, myself. Although it is a little tricky to get anything done when you can’t keep your eyes open.

Poisoned again tonight, but not (as far as I know thus far) by gluten. I ordered a chicken burger, which they assured me would be in gluten-free breadcrumbs in a gluten-free bun. I ordered it yesterday – twenty-four hours in advance. When it came, it was not in breadcrumbs, but in some brown gunk that looked distinctly unappetising, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and ate it anyway. Big mistake. I now know, with the benefit of 20:20 hindsight, that the chef, for some reason best known to himself, decided that what this perfectly ordinary chicken burger really needed was large slices of RAW GARLIC hidden inside it. My mouth was on fire all through the meal, and my dessert tasted very odd indeed. I have now brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash, in order to get rid of the taste (and make me acceptable to talk to!), but I may have another go in a few minutes, just to be sure. What kind of a moron thinks that you put raw garlic into a burger?! Raw onion rings, perhaps, tomatoes, maybe, lettuce, definitely, but raw garlic?! I had been looking forward to that meal for twenty-four hours, and I am beyond disappointed. So sad that they cannot even be trusted to make the simplest of dishes. No matter how much warning/time you give them, they will still not produce what you asked for. Mum actually had to send her order back tonight, because it bore no relation to what she had ordered, either. And it took nearly twenty minutes for a replacement to arrive. Which was still wrong, but at least edible.

Everyone I have spoken to says the food on this ship is diabolical. People who have sailed on her before say that the deterioration has taken place in the last twelve months (some people like going away in November on a regular basis). I have not met one person who is complimentary about the food. The best I can find is ‘not bad/alright/okay’, which is hardly a ringing endorsement. Yesterday, the chefs paraded through the restaurant for their traditional end of cruise appreciative round of applause – their reception was lukewarm at best. The waiters, however, got a roar of cheers and applause. I’m sure the chefs heard the difference just as much as we did.

There may be a clue, in fact, in the parade we saw. Dad said at the time, “There’s not many of them, is there? Not like usual”. And he was right. They presented a skeleton crew at best. Maybe that’s why we have had consistently bad service (did I mention the day we didn’t get our hors d’oeuvres until 40 minutes after we sat down?), with delays in delivering food every night, and badly-prepared orders, as listed.  The food has also been bad cuts of meat, poorly cooked, under-cooked, incorrectly cooked, it’s shocking really. There’s no point in asking us to applaud them making 10,000 meals a day if the majority are inedible! This may have to go in the customer satisfaction questionnaire, methinks. It’s really not good enough. To be fair, inedible food is occasionally a good thing on a cruise ship, because the weight gain is thus limited a little, but not every night! I have never before, in all the years we have been cruising, been looking forward to getting away from the food served on board. But this time, I’ll be glad to get back to dry land, where I have at least the modicum of hope that what I order will be what arrives. Very sad indeed. Right, time to go and rinse again, I think.

Day Twelve.

Sea Day. At last.

Slept nine hours last night. We all feel a bit weak and wobbly/drained today. I call it barely upright. Scorchingly beautiful hot, sunny day today, blue skies, the works. Must enjoy it while it lasts, because we’re heading west and once we turn north, things will probably cool down pretty sharpish. People in contact with the UK have been using words like snow. This may be the last day I wear shorts for a while. Dad and I even sat on deck and ate Magnums, which was nice.

Last formal tonight, so had to spend time washing hair, dressing up – new dress bought in Gib – jewellery, makeup, all that nonsense. Felt very nice when all done, but, by ‘eck, it is a hassle getting there.

No quiz tonight, because the crew are doing a show. But we had a drinks party before dinner, and I managed to drink a good litre of orange juice – the only free cold/alcoholic drinks on P&O – so that was a job well done (you can have all the tea and coffee you want, as long as you’re happy to make it yourself). Didn’t win the crystal sweetie bowl, but not hugely gutted, frankly – how are you supposed to get these things home?! When they gave us all crystal vases a few years ago, they had to arrange shipping to everyone’s home address, because they weighed more than some people’s entire baggage allowance!

Then dinner, which was very nice. I had salmon, for a change. Everyone enjoyed their meal today, even Eddy, and he ordered a steak, which if his previous experience was anything to go by, was a risky choice. He ate every bit, although he said it was quite tough. But at least it didn’t get sent back, like the last one!

Tonight, in view of the weather we have been promised on our return to Blighty, we all told our stranded in the snow stories, and I told mine about the freak blizzard in Leeds, when I walked to work in t-shirt, shorts and sandals on a lovely sunny Easter day, worked in the basement for eight hours and came out to find four inches of snow on the ground and buses sliding backwards down the hill.  Mary and Eddy come from Scotland originally, so they had some tales to tell on the subject!

We turned right during dinner, and are now heading north. We are definitely moving about a bit more than before. Welcome back to the Atlantic, everyone. Maybe that’s why I can’t keep my eyes open – I’m being rocked to sleep!

Day Eleven.

Cartagena. Last stop. Phew. This many port days in a row is very tiring.

There was another ship in port today, parked next to us. The Riviera. Remember her?!

We took the Luggie buggy ashore today, and mum terrorised the locals. Cartagena has one main street of shops, which is pedestrianised (except for taxis, who can appear from nowhere and run you down, at any moment and from any direction, without so much as a by your leave), with brand new, very flat, smooth tiles on the ground, which were perfect for mum after the rather hilly cobbles of Florence. Beautiful warm, sunny day, blue skies – lovely.  We pootled and shopped and pootled and stopped for coffee/lunch/snacks/loos/tea. Mum bought some tops in Punto Roma, which is her favourite chain, I think. Despite visiting several clothes and shoe shops, all I bought back in the end was some travel miniatures of my favourite moisturiser which were 75p each for 50ml.

We did not visit the Roman ruins today, but some of the Art Nouveau architecture in town was amazing. Very, um, frilly, Talking of which, we had intended to aim for the Gran(d) Hotel, which sounded nice, and looked spectacular from the outside.

It was recommended both on our tourist map AND in the P&O port guide. Shame it was converted into offices YEARS AGO… >:-(  This is the level of care/competence we face at the hands of P&O. Granted, in this instance, the town map was just as unhelpful, but we trust P&O to at least pretend to check their facts, which, they manifestly do not. In fact, I have made a list of port guide errors on this cruise, which I will submit to the editors on my return home. The Cartagena guide total currently stands at three, but I am expecting to spot more next time I read it.

In the end, we stopped for lunch at a place called the Cotton Grill American Diner on Calle Major (pronounced Car-yay Ma-yor). It’s what the Spanish think an American diner looks like/does, so almost…! I had a gluten-free chicken burger and dad had a smoked salmon club sandwich that was about the same size as his head. It had coleslaw in, as well, so at the end, he didn’t look like he had eaten it, so much as bathed in it. He pronounced it messy but tasty! Mum ordered macaroni cheese. What arrived initially was lukewarm penne with cold grated cheese sprinkled on top. We eventually communicated the concept of grilling, and she was much happier once the cheese had melted.  Everyone really enjoyed their meal, in the end.

At tea, I wrote my last postcard and posted it. I wonder if it will get home before we do? We found an NH hotel, like the one we found earlier in the cruise. We know they both do gluten free AND have lovely loos, so they are an excellent backup resource.

It doesn’t sound like much work/effort, but the above is a summary of about four or five hours of stuff! Time for a nap, methinks.

Lost the quiz on a tie-breaker. Good, we don’t want to have to drink that stuff. Bleurgh. That close is close enough by us. Then straight to bed for an early night. Really need some solid kip. I’m shattered. I may need a holiday to get over the holiday.

Day Ten – Barcelona

Woke screaming with cramp, all the way from all five toes to knee, left foot, up the front and outside simultaneously. I was sobbing with the pain. The muscles were so in spasm that I could not put my foot flat on the ground. I had to stand on it with the other foot to make it go down flat. That’s what gluten does to me. One of the things, anyway. So, let’s go with ‘up and about earlier than planned’.

The ship’s newspaper said that we had to take our passports ashore today. This is transparently nonsense. We are in Europe. We need nothing of the sort. In addition to which, this is the tourist theft capital of the world. Everyone on this ship has a mugging or dipping story to tell about Barcelona, including one I witnessed myself. So, no, nothing as valuable and difficult to replace as my passport is going ashore today. We compromised and shoved photocopies in a pocket, but no one asked to see them. I don’t know why Barcelona always ask us to do this. It’s nonsense. When you arrive in the city by air, you leave your passport in the hotel, you don’t wander the streets with it. So why should we cruise passengers have to? I could rant on this topic for hours – how it ruins lives and holidays, probably contributes to the bad reputation of the city because we are known sitting ducks, strands people and prevents them from going home, leaving the country, continuing their holiday, etc. This is something I have thought long and hard about and discussed at length with others. I have a LOT to say on this subject. Not really the time to say it all here. Maybe I’ll do a full length Mpinion piece sometime, when I’m not so busy.

Anyway, they made us use the airbridge to disembark. This is folded back on itself, so you are essentially walking an extra half mile to end up just feet from where you started. Very frustrating, and thoughtless for those with limited mobility, who, as I often point out, are quite plentiful on P&O ships, and on this cruise are even more well-represented than usual. We opted for mum to be pushed ashore in a borrowed wheelchair, after which we walked and taxied the rest.  The airbridge was even more frustrating when you looked down and saw a ten foot gangplank on the lower level, being reserved for crew only. Hardly fair.

Quick shuttle bus into town, and then found a taxi to take us to one of the shops on the list I had researched. Quite a long way from the centre of town. And when we got there? The shop wasn’t there! Most miffed. Will be writing a rude letter. I only looked it up on the website yesterday afternoon. So we wandered a little and accidentally found ourselves having coffee in a very nice hotel, called the Hotel Casa Fuster, which is part of the HC group. Never heard of either. But very lovely. Our drinks and danishes cost the same as lunch would do later, but it was well worth it, just for the lovely loos.  Then they found us a cab, which took us to C&A. Mum bought a blouse, but I came away empty-handed.

We then went to McDonalds for lunch.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘that’s not very posh/local/interesting’, but when you are a recently-diagnosed coeliac who hasn’t eaten one of their favourite foods in nearly two years, because she will get ill, it is a momentous event. Because McDonalds in Spain does GLUTEN FREE BURGER BUNS. This meant that I could have a quarter pounder and chips, with ketchup and a Diet Coke, just like in the old days, and just like a normal person. It made me so happy, I nearly cried.  And it tasted divine.

Bizarrely, this branch of Maccy D’s then let itself down massively. It was spread over three floors. There was a lift to go to the food ordering level and the extra seating level. But if you wanted to use the loo, the only option was two flights of stairs, one of which had no handrail at all. Who designed that?! Just goes to show what mum can achieve if she’s determined enough, though!

Then we pootled down Las Ramblas, bumping into fellow passengers – which wasn’t as obvious as in some other ports – there are four cruise ships in today (including one that no one recognised – either ship or line- it was called the Riviera – pay attention there will be a test later). The Costa Fortuna is parked next to us – we’ve made that joke before when we’ve seen them elsewhere– but now it says the line is the Neo Costa. THAT’s the best you can do at rebranding?!

We popped into Carrefour (vive la France!) for gluten free crisps (when in Spain…!) (they are Lays, who are the same company as Walkers – so why are Lays’ salt and vinegar gluten free and Walkers’ are not?) and then hailed an electric taxi to take us back to the shuttle bus. It’s eerily quiet inside a Prius. Very weird.

Much hassle finding a wheelchair to get mum back on board, precisely as expected. P&O are very nice about wheelchair assistance, but they just don’t think it through. They need a logistics expert to explain it to them. I doubt they would listen to me, if I tried. Taking someone ashore is all very well, but you need someone on the quayside to BRING THEM BACK AGAIN. *sigh*

P.S. Did not win the quiz last night. Only got 16 out of 20. One table (that includes Ross, Cheryl and Gary) got 20 out of 20, which is pretty hard to beat… I was surprised how not insufferable they were afterwards. I was expecting much more gloating than I got. Which was nice.

Last night was eighties music in the nightclub, so we had a good old singsong. Ross was a bit out of his depth at times, having not been born until 1992… *sigh*.

Tomorrow: Cartagena (pronounced Carta- hay – na (and if you can make the aitch sound like loch, so much the better), and not some of the gibberish I have heard from other passengers and crew today).

Day Nine – Tuesday 17^th November

Monte Carlo, capital of the Principality of Monaco

They speak French here, which makes me happy.

We had lots of warnings about tenders yesterday, but woke to find we had moored alongside, so no need for tenders at all.  This meant that those with limited mobility and full-time wheelchair users could go ashore after all, whereas tenders would cause them problems and prevent some from going ashore altogether.

Weather: warm but overcast with a slight breeze. About 19 or 20 degrees in the shade. Very pleasant.

The local ‘hop on hop off’-type tour bus stopped right in front of the ship, so we boarded and got our bright red earphones, to listen to one of the most bored-sounding guided tours I have ever had on one of these buses. It drove us around the various sights – past the Grand Casino and a VERY expensive-looking shopping centre (I probably couldn’t afford to even look in the windows, never mind walk inside), and then along the marina with the rather silly-sized yachts. At what point does a boat stop being a boat and become a floating house? Some of these were four or five stories high! We even saw one with a helipad on the front. Just silly. Pretty (for the most part), but silly.

Then the bus took us up what they call The Rock (confusing of those of us who know Gibraltar and/or Alcatraz as The Rock). This is the old/original town, and site of the Palace and the lovely quaint little alleys and streets that we were hoping for. We got there with not long to wait for the changing of the guard. They have a little four-piece marching band – two drums, two bugles – to escort them from one side of the square to the other. Very nice. The flags were at half mast.

Then we bought (surprisingly reasonably-priced) souvenirs, and found somewhere for lunch. It wasn’t until afterwards that I realised it was called Café Tony. Doesn’t sound very French, does it?! But the steak was good and mum and dad finished their pizzas, so no complaints there. Mum’s pizza topping was something called aubergine caviar, which we have never seen anywhere else, but which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. And I had my last steak cooked by a French chef for the foreseeable future. Which is a little sad.

Then more pootling and shops and admiring the cleanliness of the place. It is all very pretty here. They have clearly made an effort to make everything look as nice as possible. All the flowerbeds are manicured, all the gutters are clean. Absolutely no graffiti. It all appears spotless. Until you go down a side street. Then you start to find chipped paint and broken toilet facilities, and it all seems a bit more ‘normal’. Out on the main drags, it’s what I would expect Portmeirion to look like if it was a country, not a town. Very pretty but perhaps a little soulless.

Then back onto the tour bus and back to the ship by 3. For some reason BOB was 4.30 today – that may have been because of the tenders, but I don’t recall any announcement changing the time because we had moored. Still, we’ve seen pretty much the whole country, so that’s fine by me. Just enough time for a shower while the ship is still. It was a nice day – I got to speak some French, and mum and dad seemed happy. Tomorrow: Barcelona.

Day Eight – Monday 16^th November

Had a phone call this morning from the head of Ents on board. Apparently, the port agent said they should go ahead with the deck party, because he wanted it to be as ‘normal’ a day as possible for the town. I said that, whatever the port agent said, the people coming out of church may not have agreed, but he just launched into a spiel about the ethics of war in the first place and I hung up. Talk about missing the point. We sailed out past a church, you fool. The people in their praying for their compatriots to the north maybe didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of YMCA as we passed by.

And so Livorno. Well, the port guide was less than complimentary, so I wasn’t surprised to find that, after it had been bombed to bits in the war, what was built in its place was mostly ugly, utilitarian and concrete. But they are restoring some of the old buildings, and the wall around the city is mostly intact. But it’s a major port, so it’s not very pretty to look at. We were, as usual, parked in the container port, although there weren’t many containers in on a Monday morning. Just mountains of shredded bark (for biomass fuel maybe, or maybe they just mulch all their parks in winter?), concrete powder and what looked like powdered chalk – it was ‘hurt your eyes’ bright white. No idea what that is for.

There is another cruise ship in. called the Moby. No idea what line it is. It has giant Warner Bros characters painted on the side, so I’m guessing not a child-free ship. I wonder how our passengers reacted to opening their curtains this morning to find a forty-foot Daffy Duck giving them the evil eye?

One thing I have learned during this cruise is that it is considered to be winter by Mediterranean standards (although 20 in the shade and overcast is fine by me). This means that you cannot buy open toed shoes anywhere. And I mean anywhere. Even the evening shoes in the shops have closed toes. They obviously have decided that open toes are for summer only and that no one in their right minds would want to buy anything other than boots come November. They may be right, but I’m not in my right mind at the best of times, and now I’m a tourist with no sandals, so that’s not improving my mental status. In addition to which, every shoe shop sells exactly the same shoes. It’s perplexing that any of them make any money at all.

Mum and Dad went to Pisa and Florence, where mum hated taking the buggy over the cobbles and was apparently not too unhappy when it ran out of battery. She had already been tipped into the gutter by falling off a kerb, so once the battery was gone, they were more than happy to leave it with the excursions people and do the rest by taxi.  I had made a list of the Must Sees, and they did all those, bar the Ponte Vecchio, so no one was disappointed with their day. Mind you, they were pretty shattered by the time they got back!

Note to self: do not go away when a friend is in the process of moving house. You don’t know which address to send the postcards to!

I seem to be just wittering now, so I’ll call it a night, I think. Tomorrow: Monaco.