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J603 Arcadia to the Eastern Med 13.05.26 Part 6

Ephesus

Kusadasi (pronounced Koo-sha(ng)-dassy) which means Bird Island. It’s not an island, fyi, and the birds are migratory, so they’re not here at the moment, I don’t think – mostly storks, apparently.

Talking of birds, we picked up a couple of sparrows in Sicily. Presumably, they didn’t feel like winging it all the way to Greece. I think they got off in Piraeus.

Yesterday was Santorini. We did not disembark. Firstly, didn’t have the energy. Secondly, what for? By all accounts, it’s very pretty, but there’s not a lot to see or do. And we needed to recharge our batteries ready for today. Knossos really knocked us both out (but Dad is now fully recovered). We spotted one blue roof from the ship, as we departed. That’ll do.

Dad was running out of some ointment he uses – he accidentally packed an empty box! – so we tried to get some from the onboard doctor. Now, granted this is a private business concession, but the idea that we had to pay £120 for an assessment before we could buy something we had a proven prescription for, was a little too rich for our blood. When it was £45, that was bearable. But £120 is just taking the whatsit. So, I stopped at a pharmacy near Knossos and purchased two tubes for £15. About the same price as the UK, if Dad had to pay for his prescriptions. £120. FFS.

But today was Ephesus. This was the reason we booked this entire cruise. The second largest standing Roman city in the world, after Leptus Magna in (whatever remains of) Libya. I booked a tour with Get My Guide two days before we sailed. £37 quid a head for a six-seater, air-conditoned minivan with guide and driver. Bargainous. It meant getting on the quayside for 10am, which we did not enjoy, but after that, it was plain sailing. Hussein and Levent met us. Hussein’s English is excellent. We picked up three Germans from the AIDAblu, which was moored next to us, and off we went. Hussein told us all about the local agriculture – Turkey is almost entirely self-sufficient (how cool is that?!)– and this area is particularly renowned for peaches, nectarines and hazelnuts. The Germans nodded along, but spoke little, so the atmosphere was a little muted, but we coped. Hussein is the reason I know about the pronunciation and meaning of the town’s name. Apparently, this is the beach resort of choice for non-coastal Turkish people. They get 2 million visitors in the summer months, which as their school holidays are currently 12 weeks (at least until the education minister changes again, quote unquote), is quite a lot of people. We were moored between the AIDAblu and the Odyssey of the Seas, and seeing how their teeny, tiny single lane roads coped with about 10,000 passengers*, I’m glad I won’t be here when it gets “really busy”!

When we disembarked, and I saw the length of the quay to get from the ship gangplank to the terminal, I asked if there was a wheelchair we could borrow. No. Luckily, we had spotted one by the lifts, so I went back on board and pinched it. The attendants kept saying we had to ring Reception and ask for permission. I just kept rolling. What’s the point in schlepping Dad to Ephesus if he’s totally exhausted before we even get there?! As it was, even after walking the length of the berth, between the terminal and the street, a large permanent market has sprung up, and just pushing him through it all pretty much did for me. Hussein took pity on me and took over, and thereafter, he was Dad’s pilot. My gratitude was plentiful, but Beki and Joel are going to have to do a lot of extra work patching up my shoulders over the next few days. And I got an official bollocking from the head of security when we got back.

Ephesus was fab. Again, wooden boardwalks – although this time with older wood that wasn’t entirely pothole-free. 40 euros per head to get in isn’t cheap, but it was worth every penny. Hussein took us to accessible bits, where we could look at the view over the less accessible bits, and he pushed Dad the whole way. One of the Germans had a mobility scooter, and she was a demon driver!

Hussein explained all the various bits – the Library (which looks spookily similar to the Treasury in Petra), which once held 12,000 scrolls, the Senate (which held 1400 Senators at one time!) and the Agora and Forum, and so on. It was utterly wonderful. I couldn’t have been happier. In less pain, perhaps, but not happier.

Strictly speaking, this is the fourth Ephesus. It used to be a port, but now it is 10km inland. Silt and time is all it takes. Most of it was built by Greeks, so they call it Greco-Roman. The inscriptions were in Greek. And we found some carved graffiti of secret Christian symbols, from before Constantine made it not just allowed, but compulsory. Apparently, the version we are left with was mostly built by Alexander the Great.

There is a little shop near the exit, and I duly tried to contribute to the restoration works that continue. They reckon they have uncovered only about 10-20% of the city so far. In fact, the Amphitheatre is currently closed and boarded up, as that is where the current excavations are. The girls behind the counter thought it would be funny to diddle me on the exchange rate, but I was so hot and weary, I just let them. Sure, four euros for a fridge magnet labelled as one euro. I don’t care. Last of the big spenders, me.

We returned to the ship via the Temple of Artemis, which is sadly reduced to a single column (!). So much for that Wonder of the Ancient World! We were BOB for about 1.30, and then we both crashed out for about two hours. Then we went up to the buffet for breakfast/ lunch. Official BOB was 4.30, and we headed off into the wide blue yonder for three blissful and desperately needed sea days before Gibraltar. I am now going back to bed for a further nap before dinner.

I’m told it was 9 degrees in London today, so I won’t harp on about it being 26 here. That would be mean of me.

*Odyssey of the Seas 4800 pax, 1300 crew, AIDAblu 2500 pax,600 crew, Us 2500 pax, 900 crew (almost all of which got off today; it’s funny seeing your waiters in normal clothes = 12,600 (usual caveats apply).

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J603 Arcadia to the Eastern Med 07.05.26 Part 3

What has happened since I last spoke to you? Well, in no particular order, I have had a swim, re-damaged my right rotator cuff injury, and caught either a streaming cold or maddening hay fever, take your pick.

I lasted five days before damaging myself, this time. I probably did it yanking on one of those extremely heavy doors I mentioned the other day. You do not realise how often you reach for something until you can’t. Even tying my hair up is out of the question. So I had my hair down, and Dad couldn’t find me in the buffet, because he didn’t recognise the back of my head!

Yesterday, I slept. All day.

Whether the previous night’s sleep was disturbed because: (a) the cabin was too hot, (b) the sea was too smooth, (c) shoulder pain, or (d) insomnia is just a Thing for me now, I do not know. But we now have a fan in the cabin to obviate (a), (b) is a bit hard to solve – and, frankly, I feel quite churlish even complaining about it! And (c) maybe, and (d) just is what it is with M.E., I suppose. So, even when our steward came at 5.30pm, he STILL had to wake me up! A bit embarrassing. On the upside, I didn’t overeat yesterday, that’s for sure!

The afternoon massage was wonderful (this was the BOGOF one – I was always intending the ones at the beginning and end of the cruise). Beki was very careful with my right arm and I didn’t have to yelp once. I’m definitely developing a liking for face massages. Afterwards, she referred me to the acupuncturist, who did a free assessment of my shoulder, to see if he can help. The things that you can achieve for your right shoulder by pressing on acupressure points on your left wrist and right knee are very enlightening! I have booked a session for tomorrow, the eighth. Strictly speaking, it’s Palermo tomorrow, so I made it for 4pm, just in case we get seized with a powerful urge to go ashore. BOB is 4.30, so we would aim to be back by 4 anyway. Chances are we won’t go. My cold/hayfever still has me sneezing like a good ‘un, but I’ll leave it to Dad to decide. He has been quite lethargic the past couple of days. I hope he’s not coming down with something.

We won the quiz tonight.

As an FYI, we have one Sea Day after Palermo and then five ports in five days. Correspondence may become somewhat patchy.

Missive ends.

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R421 Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here endeth the Third Lesson.