Tag Archives: travel

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J603 Arcadia to the Eastern Med 16.05.26 – Part 7

Probably the last bit

The Med is currently like a mirror. We have had a couple of nights of slight movement, but that just meant we slept extra well.

In fact, since Ephesus, pretty much all we have done is sleep. We wake, we doze, we have brief conversations, we turn over, and we go right back to sleep.  Remember those Lovely new mattresses? Well, yes, they still are Lovely. Getting out of bed is getting more and more difficult. We’ve even got the room temperature pretty much sorted. I forgot to turn the fan on last night, and regretted it. But we have been getting up at about 3pm, eating a late lunch/ brunch at 4pm, then I have acupuncture at 5 and then we go to dinner.  In fact, if I have been in contact with you recently, and I seemed strangely alert, it’s because Greece, Crete and Turkiye are three hours ahead of the UK. So my 2am has been your 11pm. We went back one hour last night, so we are (a) allowed more sleep (b) getting closer to normal time

Saturday is a little different because I have a hydropool session after my acupuncture session. This is the “proper spa” bit, with the massage jets and salts and stuff. They charge £40 for two hours, but I’m getting it for free because (a) I have spent so much on acupuncture (b) Joel is very lovely (c) Joel is very senior so what he says, goes (d) the other pools do not have steps, only ladders. Even if I didn’t damage my shoulder climbing the ladder last time, no point in risking undoing all of Joel’s needles’ sterling repair work. So I shall descend and ascend a tad more gracefully than before, hopefully.

Last night we found a bit of the ship we had never been to before, even when we lived on here for three months! It has an indoor bit and an outdoor bit. It’s beautifully deserted and sheltered from the wind. If we ever come on here again, we know where we’ll be spending most of our time!

We won the quiz last night. That’s the third time. No tie-breaker. Just outright winning. Largely thanks to me *bows magnanimously*. There were a couple of WTFs: the first ebook ever published being the US Declaration of Independence, despite the fact it’s not actually a book, it’s a single page document, and whether a stye is on the eye or the eyelid. But winning is winning and beating the grumpy professional quizzers is the important bit. Which really is our only goal. Our team mates, Ken and Irene (from Scotland) and Bryan and Doreen (from South Yorkshire) are just as committed as us, in this regard. Our dinner tablemates, Carol and Roy, have decided to hate them vicariously, as well, despite having never set eyes on them, which is nice.

17.05.26

Tonight, we started on -1 – standard punishment for winning the night before – so we just missed being in the tiebreaker, which I would have won (what’s the current population of Gibraltar*), as my answer** was the closest to the correct figure.  Ken scored a spectacular point, being the only person in the entire room who knew the answer! The question was, in television terms, what does PAL*** stand for?

My hydropool session was AMAZING. I had the whole pool to myself and I played in the various jets for about an hour. I was so relaxed afterwards, I could barely stand unaided! Found some interesting ouchy bits, that may warrant further investigation in the future, but it was all mostly idyllic. I even managed to find my scrunchie after it got blown off by a particularly powerful blast! It was truly genius of me to wear a blue scrunchie to get into a blue pool. Sometimes I scare myself. Dad sat by the pool and shouted questions over the noise of the water. He was most perplexed when the steam started condensing on the ceiling and dripping back down onto him!

We have confirmed that tomorrow’s stop in Gibraltar is, indeed, only a half day, and it’s the morning half at that – BOB is 1.30, for pity’s sake, so we are going to skip it. We do like contributing to the economies of British outcrops, but there are limits to our abilities, and frankly, we are probably, neither of us, still quite recovered from Ephesus. Indeed, quite a few people we have spoken to have also decided not to get off tomorrow. I feel bad for Gibraltar’s economy, but rushing around like blue-bottomed insects doesn’t suit this crowd. I’m not sure our other tablemates, Malcolm and Sue, have even disembarked once during this trip. It’s a very laid-back cohort.

My last acupuncture session with Joel was surprisingly painful; much more so than any previous session. I think he wanted to leave me with something to remember him by. I certainly have a fascinating collection of perfectly circular bruises on my lower legs. I actually quite like it when one occasionally hurts. It makes me feel like something is happening. The lack of pain afterwards is an obvious clue, but during, you just have to lie there and hope! At least if I can feel something hurting, I know something is working. And if it hurts, it stops me fidgeting, Which I was not aware I did until now.

The “lasts” have started: last massage, last acupuncture, last port, last formal, etc. We’ve made our list of who gets a tip. Which reminds me, we need to go to Reception for envelopes. It’s a bit more dignified to hand over, rather than just waving pound notes about.

The current muzak in the buffet is What if God Was One of Us, played on a flute and a harmonica. I think the pinnacle (nadir?!) on this cruise was probably Knock Knock Knocking on Heaven’s Door sung as a breathy lullaby. Yikes indeed.

19.05.26

Yesterday was the last formal and today I packed. That’s it. For the whole two days. The rest was eating and sleeping. We gave out our tip envelopes and swapped emails with a few people. My new phone has a very strange quirk. When you add a new contact, it vanishes! I have no idea why or how or how to prevent it. It’s getting faintly ridiculous. I swap info with someone and then I have to chase after them to get it again. I feel like a right muppet. Any suggestions?

The last shorts day was Gibraltar. When we passed through the Pillars of Hercules and turned right, the temperature dropped like a stone. 26 down to 16. So out came the jeans! The forecast tomorrow at home is 20 degrees, which is very confusing. The weather while we have been away has been, apparently, somewhat erratic. Kate Kinsella from BBC weather has done a lovely short piece about how mid-May in the UK is renowned down the centuries for a sudden cold snap, although, unfortunately, she didn’t explain why! We have kept an eye on home, and are well aware of how cold it got.

The sea state has remained ‘virtual millpond’ throughout, until last night. We woke to fair few white horses (force 4?) today, but even they have calmed down as the day has progressed. The usual grey-blue of the Atlantic looks like rumpled silk, its so still. It’s like being in the Doldrums, but without the warmth.

We realised today that, during this entire cruise, not one single announcement has been broadcast through the cabins. So it can be done! You just need the right captain, it seems. You know, one that actually gives a stuff about the passengers. Remember those?! Mercifully, some kind soul has also arranged for the clocks to go back tonight, so we get an extra hour before the 8am cabin eviction. Thinking of the passengers, again?! Careful, P&O Cruises, people will get ideas!

I put all our cases out before dinner, as one is supposed to do. This may be the first time in 27 years I’ve managed it. I usually manage it by about 10pm, but they prefer them by 8. When I got to the table, I was so shattered, I could barely speak, never mind chew. I think, this weekend, I will have a major crash, but I left it free on the assumption I might. Just don’t expect much from me, words-wise! When we got back to the cabin, I realised I had packed all the chargers! Luckily, the cases had only made it as far as the lift lobby collection cages, which are maybe six feet from our cabin, so I nipped out and grabbed back a charger from the vanity case. The list of things I keep finding in the cabin that should have gone in is rather high, but I think we’ll manage.

So ends another cruise. We have had a lovely time on Arcadia, and it has been nice to visit new places and meet old friends and new.  I don’t want to go home yet. Time to look in earnest at making our next booking(s).

*Answer = 28,000

**My answer = 20,000

***Phased Alternating Lines

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J603 Arcadia to the Eastern Med 10.05.26 Part 5

Heraklion, Crete

Well, for starters, it wasn’t 26 in the shade, it was 33. Then you have to add on 6-8 extra for direct sunlight. Some say 10, but I think that’s a bit overdramatic. Whatever your preference, to quote the song, it’s too darn hot. There was a breeze at the port – I had to chase after Dad’s hat, twice! – but once you moved inland, nothing. But this is more like it. Clear blue skies, pounding sunshine, turquoise waters, and… a container port! Woohoo! I thought P&O Cruises were losing their touch, but, true to form, they have come up trumps again. Bless ‘em.

This port is a working one and we were the only cruise ship in. The shuttle bus from the ship to the port entrance was about eight to ten minutes and plentiful, too. At the terminus, we bought tickets for the Hop on, hop off bus and set off in search of King Minos and his labyrinthine pet.

And off we went. There’s a preserved ruin everywhere you look here, just by the side of the road, with VIP-style ropes to separate them from the proletariat, i.e., oiks like us. The recorded commentary was in heavily accented, but intelligible, English and the driver yelled the stops out very effectively. Blue earphones with orange sponges, in case you were wondering. The recording did, however, last less than halfway round! The Palace of Knossos is about 5 km out of town, and no, I don’t know what that is in old money. But Crete is volcanic. Google maps told us that it would be 18 minutes by cab but over an hour on foot, which was our first clue that it would be very much Uphill. In fact, the Palace overlooks the (hopefully!) extinct caldera.

After a while, Dad started feeling unwell – touch of heat stroke perhaps? So we went into a café opposite the Palace entrance, had a cold drink, and I put him in a cab back to the blissfully cool ship.

Greece is not very good at accessibility. They have grasped slopes for wheelchairs, and even a lift at the Acropolis, I’m told, but ambulatory disabled with limited mobility aren’t yet on their radar. Despite nice, smooth boardwalks to lead you through and over the Palace ruins (or at least the results of Arthur Evans’s Victorian reconstructive guesswork), not one person thought to put in a bench. I didn’t make it far, needless to say. On the upside, entry is free for disabled people, and the disabled loo was lovely. But the lack of shade and seating meant I couldn’t hack it for long, and I went back to the ship.

I might even have been on time for my acupuncture appointment, if they hadn’t stopped running the shuttle bus before everyone was back! The poor Cretan security lady had to make several, increasingly aggravated, calls to get them to come and get the last few of us. Apparently, I was the very last to board. Yikes! But, as an indication of the fierceness of the heat, BOB* was 6pm but we stragglers were waiting for the shuttle bus at just gone 5. Everyone else had long since run for cover.

But it was wonderful to finally be in the place that inspired all my archaeological and historical adventures over the past half century. I’ve been desperate to come here ever since my first year at Big School, when Miss Rogers taught us about Greek mythology.

Talking of half centuries, Happy birthday, James!

If you visit Knossos, say hello to the young lady on the audio tours desk. Her name is Hermione, and she may be The Kindest Person On Earth. I cannot begin to tell you how lovely she was to me.

I have finally managed to flummox Joel, by developing a cramp in my KNEE, that he could not fix. He’s still learning what M.E. entails.

The scales in the gym say I’m down nearly six kilos now. The gym is next to the spa, in case you were looking for the sequitur!

And, yes, I did buy a t-shirt.

*For new readers, BOB is Back on Board, our deadline for departure, After which they are legally allowed to leave without you.

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J603 Arcadia to the Eastern Med 10.05.26 Part 4

CORRECTION: It’s four ports in four days, not five in five.

If the scales in the gym are to be believed (which is a fairly big IF), I lost over two kilos between Motril and Palermo, just from all the walking we do on board. I forgot to weigh myself today. I’ll try and remember tomorrow.

So, today is Piraeus. The energetic are off on coaches to Athens, to go up. They’ll go Up the Acropolis. They’ll go Up the Parthenon. They’ll plough through Athens traffic, in their (hopefully air conditioned) coaches. They will tootle around in ever decreasing circles while the various coach drivers of the approximately 7,000 cruise passengers and crew*∑ currently moored in Piraeus try not to all arrive at the same sights at the same time. That is, if they made it out of Piraeus at all, as there is a bicycle road race today and much of the port’s roads and transportation are out of commission for the day. Even the Hop-on/ Hop-off is cancelled. It is 24 degrees and very overcast. Not a breath of wind. Very pleasant to sit in, but probably a bit warm for racing. However, Piraeus is now a MASSIVE port, compared to when we came here all those years ago. There is a LOT of concrete here now. Mind you, it’s so huge, it may simply be that we are not in the same location as last time, and it’s all so expansive now, we cannot even see our previous mooring. In fact, the port is so busy with ferries and cruise ships that the sea outside our breakwater is actually calmer than inside.

Apparently, those on the Bridge can see the Acropolis, with binoculars!

Either way, I have had fun using what little Russian I remember to read the names on passing boats and ferries – Saints Cyril and Methodius (Bulgarian brothers, both monks), who invented the Cyrillic writing system in the 9th century to write down Slavic languages, used Greek letters to do it!

Being Greece, both the roads around the ports and a good majority of the passing boats and ferries have names like Poseidon, Antigone, Gaeia, Apollo and so on. But the tug that is going to guide us off our berth is the Christos 42, so either the captain is a Douglas Adams fan, or he’s got through a LOT of previous vessels and is a rotten driver!

OH MY GOOD LORD. WHY DIDN’T SOMEONE TELL ME ABOUT ACUPUNCTURE BEFORE?! Just TWO sessions and my right shoulder has 90-95 per cent recovered. Whereas, three days ago, I could not lift my right arm high enough to scratch my nose, now I can raise my arm all the way up and wave it over my head. I have enough pain-free movement to tie up my hair, reach across for things and even carry things. I’m still nervous about pulling or pushing doors, pressing and holding for the water dispenser, and so on, but the difference is staggering. And not a single needle went into the affected arm, just both knees and ankles and my left hand. I am a convert. At over 100 quid a throw, it isn’t cheap, but it is absolutely worth every penny. And Joel, the acupuncturist, is a Pet Shop Boys fan, despite being an American (it’s okay, he’s from California). Which is nice. Turns out he’s a month older than me.

Things I have learned today #1: The Norwegian Pearl does an annual KISS cruise, for fans of said rock band. Joel has treated a lot of rock stars on various ships over the years, so we never lack for conversation. We both agreed that Alice Cooper is the nicest person of those discussed so far. There’s plenty of chatting in an acupuncture session, as they try to distract you from the needles being put in. They don’t hurt, so I have to watch where they go in, so I don’t damage myself when his back is turned!

The P&O Cruises ‘worldy’ brochure has just come out. January 2027 looks good… 75 nights with ten ports we’ve never been to before. 2028’s only has four new ports.

Heraklion will be 26 Celsius tomorrow, apparently. I’m hoping to get ashore. I’ve never been to Crete, and to be this close to Knossos and not go would feel very wrong. But Dad hasn’t felt very good today, so nothing is set in stone.

Transmission ends.

*MV Aegean Odyssey 396 pax, 180 crew; MV Callisto 34 pax, 18 crew, Us 2358 pax, 866 crew, MV Pegasus 44 pax, 18 crew, MS Galileo 50 pax, 18 crew, and the Norwegian Pearl 2,344 pax, 1072 crew (7,398).

∑ Obviously, not all crew are allowed off at the same time, but you get the idea!

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J603 Arcadia to the Eastern Med 05.05.26 Part 2

Revenge of the Fifth!

And the anniversary of my move from Devon to St Neots. Nineteen years. By far the longest I have lived in one place, ever. Twelve years in Hendon, six years in Golders Green, five in Leeds, one in Caen, two at St Katherine Docks, two in Limehouse, two in Okehampton, and then, in 2007, up to PE19. I’m aware that these figures do not quite add up to my current age, but a girl has to keep some mystery about her. Happy Cinco de Mayo to Kris, Rich and Selena, whom I met nineteen years ago today!

Right, reminiscences aside, welcome to Motril, our first stop of seven. No, we had never heard of it either. It’s in Spain. According to the interweb, it’s a fairly ordinary, modern town, but with an old ‘feel’, whatever that means! According to the Entertainment Officer who ran the Syndicate Quiz last night (Victoria), it’s a lovely little old town, but there’s not a lot to see or do. It’s basically a staging point for trips to Granada and, more specifically, Alhambra, which is an hour each way by coach from the port. In fact, our tablemates, Roy and Carol, tried the (allegedly 2km) walk into town. They met people walking back who said, (a) it’s further than you think, and (b) don’t bother anyway. So they turned around came back to the ship!

Whilst I have wanted to see Alhambra for as long as I can remember, no one at P&O Cruises nor the internet entrepreneurship is interested in helping people with limited mobility to see it. Unlike Ephesus, where we had choice anxiety when booking a tour, this time it is all walking tours, for a minimum of three hours (maximum 6 or 7), thank you very much. So I have reluctantly concluded that it would be one cultural stop too many on this trip. I simply don’t have enough recovery time available before the next port looms (Palermo on the 8th), and I don’t want to crash before Ephesus. M.E. is hard enough to pace without adding unnecessary enforced walking. The fact that the tours I did find had prices “starting from £39 a head” that, once clicked upon, announced that they would be £417 per person, did nothing to convince me that I was making a foolish error in skipping it…

This morning’s startlingly early wake-up call was someone HAMMERING something into place on a metal part of a lifeboat. At 8am Ship’s Time. So that’s 7am BST, or 6am GMT to what little I possess by way of a body clock. Why would 8am seem unreasonable? It’s not like we’re on holiday, or retired, or both, and might not appreciate an early start. Oh, no, wait…

 On the plus side, last night, on our way to dinner, we bumped into our cabin steward from when we were last on Aurora – the lovely Angela. This was cool because, not only did she remember us, but she remembered that I didn’t get up early, and that she had arranged with us to clean our cabin in the evenings, rather than the mornings, so I could have a lie-in if I had had a bad night. When she asked how I was, I joked about having to get up for our current steward, Rajesh. She was visibly dismayed that he had said he could not do a similar evening clean. She said she would try and fix it for us, which was very lovely of her, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. Today, when I saw Rajesh, he informed me that he had decided he can do our cabin in the evening, after all. Fancy that. So, even here, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know!

I wasn’t planning on blogging every day, but today, when I got up, I found had a craving – to type. Which seems odd. I get cravings to speak French every so often, but that’s apparently very common, because it’s a joy to speak. People often tell me they miss speaking it. But I have never encountered a yearning to type before. I wonder if there are other non-food/ drink/ drug urges that people have. That may be an internet rabbit hole for another day. I don’t think it’s to do with my new laptop. It’s very nice, if a little heavier than its predecessor (which was traded in for a discount), and there are a few bits of Windows 11 that are still a learning curve, along with the, now apparently traditional, disappearance of the Hibernate setting. But I don’t think it’s the hardware that’s causing this particular issue, anyway.

Quick terminology query, if I may: we are sitting in the buffet restaurant on board, watching a bulk carrier being loaded with something. We’re not in a container port (for a change!), but we are still in a working, industrial harbour. We don’t know what the product is, but it’s a very slow process, and thick creamy-coloured clouds of whatever it is are blowing away with every move. We were looking at a nearby JCB for scale. It has a bucket scoop on the front and is moving stuff around the quay ready for loading. I called it a bulldozer. Dad calls it a dump truck. But isn’t that a lorry that tips out its contents? Neither sounds right in my head. Any suggestions? We are currently bodging the issue by referring to it simply as a JCB.

The ship moored behind the bulk carrier is labelled Briese Chartering. It was Dad who figured out what was lying along the top. We’ve decided it’s a turbine blade. It has red marks at the end, which was what was confusing Dad. It looks like a very long cartoon missile, truth be told. I explained that the marks are added so that, when it is rotating, the marks appear as solid circles, which prevents birds from flying into them. Although, I’ve only seen black ones, until today. Red makes more sense, I think, from a bird brain ‘danger’ perspective. Assuming they have colour vision. I assume so, otherwise why would berries bother being red to avoid being eaten? Mind you, with the red bits, the spinning turbine will look like the logo for Target stores in the US, so I hope they don’t start aiming for them instead! I have since spotted another four blades stacked on the quayside, behind some buildings and, the standard fare in every port, hundreds of cars. A quick Google has, in fact, revealed that Motril’s main export is 80 metre turbine blades (about 263 feet, in old money); made by a company called Vestas, in case you’re interested. So our guess was correct! And a huzzah for the spiffy wifi connection for saving the day, knowledge-wise.

The wiffy onboard is SO much faster, more reliable and abundant than in the old days, I almost don’t mind paying for it. Almost. I haven’t found a single Notspot so far.  We are fairly sure that P&O Cruises are the only cruise line that still charge for it, nowadays, rather than include it as a loyalty reward. But it is certainly not like when I started this blog, and I had to type it offline in my cabin and then come up to the buffet to upload it, whilst stressing about the timer in the corner of the screen charging by the second.  Now it really is possible to work from here.

Talking of the Fount of All Information and Lies (FAIL, aka the internet ), I accidentally entered my blog address into Google instead of Chrome, and I got an AI overview, which tickled me. Enjoy.

So now you know!

Of course, it is now siesta time, so all movement on the quayside has now ceased, except for a single motor yacht which keeps tootling back and forth past us – are they looking at us, or do they want us to look at them? Answers on a postcard to the usual address, please.

The water here is more green than turquoise. I can’t really think of a comparator for its somewhat virulent shade. Try visualising it as bright turquoise but with diluted orange squash spilt on top, and then make it opaque instead of transparent. If it was darker, I’d call it teal. The sky is blue with wispy clouds that give a hazy feel to things, at least near the port. Although, having said that, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains (the real ones, I believe, as opposed to the US copies) are surprisingly clear to see, despite being some considerable distance inland.

I want a margarita. Does alcohol-free tequila exist yet?

Talking of booze, did you know that P&O Cruises now produces its own brand of gins, called Marabelle (beautiful sea – very apt)? Apologies if I’ve mentioned this before, but my memory is not what it was. And that’s without consuming alcohol!

Random waffle ends.

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J603 – Arcadia to the Eastern Med – 1 May 2026.

Okay, here we go!

WARNING: I have been told I seem to complain a lot. I do criticise certain aspects of the management and organisation; when you’ve travelled with the same company for 27 years, it’s hard not to notice changes (for the better or worse!). But I’m not complaining. I’m just observing the changes. Most of the time, I couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss either way, but it is interesting to see how things develop/regress. Please do not read this in a whiny voice. I am VERY well aware of how fortunate we are to be able to cruise, and to do so fairly frequently. If I believed in a deity, I would thank Him/Her/It/Them every night. This is a very luxurious kind of holiday – which, unfortunately, makes mistakes all the more glaringly obvious. Caveat ends.

Anyway, welcome to the (refitted since we last saw her) Arcadia. Lots of blue carpets. Purpose made to fit the spaces, with borders and stuff to really show off. The same fern-like carpet in Reception as we had on Aurora – grey ferns on a cream background. A friend tried to buy some at home after it appeared on Aurora, but it is apparently proprietary/ copyright or some such nonsense and not available to the ordinary proletariat to purchase. Why this is so, is anyone’s guess. Everything else is blue: the carpets in the public rooms, the corridors*, the funnel, everything. Blue, blue, blue (Ba ba dee ba ba dah). The sea, too, is currently a very impressive bright cobalt, as the sun sets quite fast on our starboard side.

So, where to start? They brought forward the coach pickup time at South Mimms Services from 11.30 to 9.30 am. Colour us unimpressed. But we managed to make it upright, the minicab arrived on time (driver’s name was Khaled), and they’ve put picnic tables in the coach park so we didn’t have to stand around whilst queuing. All so far so good. We made it to Southampton in 2.5 hours, which, for a bank holiday Friday, was astounding. Maybe the variable speed limits on the M25 really do work?!

This time, mercifully, there was no issue with getting two wheelchairs and we were on board in time for lunch. Although who wants FIVE courses, with cheese and petit fours (albeit with free wine), at lunchtime on any day is beyond my ken.

The cabin keys worked, the wifi worked, it was all dubiously smooth. Until…

Dad’s case didn’t arrive. We went to Reception and were assured that it was “almost certainly” on board. Very reassuring, thanks. We traded phone calls, we went back and forth to Reception to nag in person at least half a dozen times, they dispatched every deck supervisor to search the ship. At 9.15pm – EIGHT HOURS after we boarded, someone thought to ask Security. And there it was. ALLEGEDLY, they had spotted something suspicious on the x-ray, but could not open the combination lock. They didn’t TELL us. They didn’t even tell any of the Reception team. When we finally did locate it (in a room about six feet from the Reception Desk), the only Security person on duty had NO IDEA what the problem might have been. We unlocked it and she took a cursory look and asked her supervisor about some large scissors with 2.5 inch blades (the maximum is 4). And that was that. Only we still had to go and unpack it, after an already exhausting day – neither of us could be mistaken for spring chickens, let’s face it.

Just to add the cherry on top, we discovered last year that said combination lock has developed a worrying habit of jumping wheels, so the number you opened it with may not work the next time! It’s clearly aging at the same rate as we are! Still, makes for fun and games when trying to open it. It’s amazing what can be achieved with a bit of brute force and ignorance, and a teaspoon.

Arcadia is suffering from the standard ailments – tired décor, dents, dirty windows, etc. That’s all par for the course and not really a problem. But some bits are inconvenient. All the automatic doors (currently) work perfectly, but someone has put new closers on everything else, and you really have to put your back into it to open anything. Do NOT go to the loo in a hurry (or a one-piece bathing suit), because this includes the individual cubicle doors. If you do, don’t use the loos nearest the restaurant, because there’s no loo paper. Seriously, P&O, at lunchtime on Embarkation Day?! FFS.

The corner cutting continues apace. The new toilet paper is a bit hard for my liking (but I suppose I should just be grateful I found some!). The drinks prices continue to rise (anyone would think they were made of Brent Crude), but the food is plentiful, and largely edible (although the herrings pickled in sherry are not very popular!). The new mattresses are lovely – they were all replaced in January, apparently. But, conversely, whereas the staff used to use Red Henrys to hoover between sittings, they now use grey and blue imitations, which are lovely and quiet, but branded with P&O livery! Really? Is it necessary to waste money branding the vacuum cleaners?! Madness.

The lack of communication continues to blight matters – left hand and right hand still completely ignore each other. For example, a couple of years ago, all the cabin doors were metal, and had been since time immemorial. Some bright spark decided that, in the last refit, all the cabin doors should be covered with wood veneer. It looks very smart indeed. But it makes the MAGNETIC Do Not Disturb signs rather tricky to use. Seriously, you could not make this stuff up, you really couldn’t. Thank goodness they didn’t alter the door frames as well! As the magnetic signs only came in a few years ago, when we switched from push-pull card slots to contactless locks, which meant the demise of the little card DND signs that we used to just post in the gap and were impossible to ignore if you went to use a key, the silliness really starts to come into focus.

As with much with P&O, it’s one step forward, several back – less progress, more cha-cha-cha.

My massage was booked for today at 3.30pm. I booked it online before we sailed. When I got there, they said I was booked in for 5.30pm. Luckily, due to being a “Fool me once” kind of cynic, I had a screencap of my purchase. So I got a lovely massage from Beki, and we (accidentally, ahem) overran by half an hour by way of compensation – so I got a full body massage plus a facial massage plus an Indian head massage as well! By the time I left, I was so relaxed, I could barely stand!

I do wonder if things feel a little out of kilter because our beds are facing a different way to usual. Whereas, as far as I can recall, the cabin has always been laid out with the headboards either side of the window, facing across the beam, this time, our heads are aft and our feet are pointing forward. I have no idea if this really has any effect, but it’s interesting to note.

But, on the plus side, my massages are on 3 for 2 (oh well, if you INSIST), and the Bay of Biscay was so calm, I had to look out the window to check we were still moving. Bearing in mind that some people fly to Spain to meet the ship rather than cross it on board (because it’s very shallow and therefore tends to be quite rough), it was very pleasant.

We haven’t seen much in the way of wildlife or birds, as yet, although today we have passed two low-and-slows – both likely tankers, as not a container in sight on either. We’re doing about 15 knots, so we easily outpace them, particularly as these two were quite laden down and low in the water.

We didn’t get a dinner table on Day 1, but we got one last night. Carol and Roy are lovely (despite being Scottish). So are Sue and Malcolm, but a little quieter. The latter pair were on the same coach as us, and boarded at South Mimms. There are hardly ever Londoners on board, so Enfielders make a refreshing change.

We have bumped into several friends from earlier cruises. Thank heavens I started noting names in my blogs! It’s ever so useful to be able to look up people’s names. I’m good at faces, but not names. Dad isn’t very good at either, it transpires! But the blog archive has been invaluable in that respect, and we’re only on Day 3.

I am currently trying to persuade Dad to go and see Hidden Figures at the cinema tomorrow. Today was Raising Arizona, which I didn’t think he’d appreciate as much.

Tomorrow is Julia’s birthday, so happy birthday, Mrs Mushin! And May the 4th be with the rest of you.

*I will upload a photo, but apologies in advance to those of a more OCD persuasion.

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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 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!