Wednesday's chocolate

Wednesday 15th May, Continued

We woke up this morning to slightly choppy conditions – actual wind = fresh gale, apparent wind = strong gale. We therefore eased back on breakfast: toast with yeast extract for me and porridge for Matt. It was too cold to sit out on deck (I had even put socks on today) but we had a walk around the prom deck and watched the crashing waves. The power of the sea really is immense.

 

I went to the library before lunch today (as well as going to the £7.99 “sale” where I got a lovely fuchsia pashmina). Usefully there was a book about the wildlife of the Mediterranean. It doesn't feature any humming birds but I managed to deduce that what we had seen in Gibraltar was probably a humming bird hawkmoth. Additionally, one of the lizards wasn't a lizard at all but a Moorish gecko.

 

After lunch (nice but not notable apart from the giant feta samosa that I'm hoping to recreate some time and that some of the people we sat with were raving about last night's Phil Collins tribute and that some other people who were were sitting with get a new caravan every year – so they're the people who keep the caravan salesmen employed) we positioned ourselves on the sun loungers by the covered pool. The sun was coming out a bit now so it was pleasantly warm but easy enough to find a slightly shaded spot to avoid the need for sunscreen application. We spent an hour or so reading – both of us are on target to finish books today – and then headed off to the chocoholics buffet. I was bad influence here – Matt claims he would happily missed it. But the queue to get into the restaurant was massive. I like chocolate, but not that much. Matt loves chocolate but has somehow started showing a new display of will. So instead of going to the buffet we wandered around a bit.

My thighs were aching from yesterday's hike so we cheekily used the lifts (or elevators as Matt has mysteriously taken to calling them). Everyone in the lifts seems to be very subdued and Matt has taken to holding forcefully cheerful conversations with them. As we wandered around we happened upon the “galley walk through”. They open up the kitchens so you can have a peak behind the scenes (not the full behind the scenes tour which I was not about to fork out £75 for – that's a lot of tea-towels).

 

It was staggering just how big an operation it is – over 13000 meals a day for the passengers and crew. And the amount of food that is consumed is huge – disgusting almost. In particular I have contributed to the 3.5 tons/tonnes (I'm not sure whether imperial or metric!) of cheese and 4000 litres of ice-cream that are consumed in a typical fortnight. But not at all to the 40 tons/tonnes of meat, or the 7200 cans plus 4908 litres (draught) of beer. Lentils and beans to not feature on their list of consumption but I have probably had more than an average quota of the 80 tons/tonnes of fresh fruit and veg.

They'd done some watermelon carvings to decorate the galley as we walked through which I was really quite taken with. And lo and behold the galley walk through ended up at the chocoholics buffet – no queue at all. It was impressive to see it all but I was quite restrained and had a small piece of swiss roll and a slice of black forest gateau (I actually would love to go to the Black Forest to eat this type of cake in situ) – delicious. Matt continued with his newly discovered will power, didn't take a plate and had just the chocolate lattice from the top of my gateau.

Monday's black and white

Tuesday May 14th

It was black and white night last night. Which means there are a lot of people wearing black for whom it doesn't really suit, and a lot of people wearing white for whom it doesn't particularly suit (I have learnt this from my very chic friend Charlotte). Neither colour goes well with the lobster skin colour which is the look that a lot of people were going for after a day in the sunshine (obviously without sufficient factor 30); but you've got to be especially wary of men in white tuxedos.

We had dinner with a lovely middle-aged couple called Trevor and Patty (I got excited initially when I thought it was the people left behind in Cartagena) and a difficult-to-age lady travelling on her own. She was almost the opposite of Susan from the night before. I imagine that this lady (who shall remain nameless) got “rich” (she cruises a lot and has that “considerably richer than you” air about her) from an acrimonious divorce. She was very bitter towards a lot of people. She left the table early as she had to get back to the casino. Which left us to have much easier conversation with Trevor and Patty.

Hythe Pier

Patty is a big fan of online group deals and they had recently spent a night in a hotel in the New Forest. As coincidence would have it they had visited Hythe – just a mile or so from where I grew up. She had loved it and was thrilled that my mum is currently the lady mayoress of the parish. I gave them a bit of insider information (where they can park for free) and I think they plan to return to visit the pier and take the ferry and maybe go to the market. I hope the market's still going.

The meal was notable for two things in particular:

Pina Colada Soup

• Soup: There is always a choice of two (between starter and main, it's not compulsory) and today's choices were roasted plum tomato or chilled pina colada. I can eat tomato soup anywhere so went for the pina colada. It was interesting and not at all unpleasant but I'm not sure it's something that I'll be trying to recreate.
• Cheese: A cruise is potentially hazardous for a cheese lover such as myself.

  

  Cheese and biscuits

  You can have cheese and biscuits every evening of you want but I've tried to limit this to formal nights only. They bring out a board with lots of choice and it's just too difficult to pick one or two so I invariably went for a bit of everything. The waiter piled my plate high with biscuits too. The goat's cheese was fantastic, as was the stilton (served with a spoon from a whole stilton about a foot in diameter).

As if that wasn't enough, the lady who had dashed off to the casino had given me her shortbread biscuit. She didn't like shortbread. If you don't like shortbread what biscuit do you like?

As of last night I have worn every pair of shoes that I brought on holiday with me. All 12 pairs.

Monday's sea legs

Monday 13th May

After 5 busy port days, it was relaxing to have a day at sea to recuperate. Fortunately yesterday's storm had abated. I spent most of the day on the deck with a good book, interrupted only for frequent re-application of sunscreen and a longer break for lunch.

In the morning Matt kindly set off to do some laundry while I went to the “ladies fashion event”. This was a disappointment as it largely consisted of larger-sized middle-aged ladies barging around looking at clothes that (even to my untrained eye) clearly would not suit them. I was neither apologised to when I was trampled into, nor thanked when I made way for, the larger-sized middle-aged ladies. I did not stay long but my escape route up the stairs in the atrium was blocked by larger-sized middle-aged men spectating on the larger-sized middle-aged ladies.

Once I'd made my way through this obstacle course I had a clear run (well, trot) up the stairs to the Ocean Deck – by now our preferred outside location. I passed the time of day about the hammering our knees were taking with a man also going upwards. We agreed that going downwards was much worse. At the top of the stairs something really great happened to me. A kind Scottish lad said (to me), “ooh, here's the lady with the lovely long legs; the legs that just go on and on”. It's a special kind of compliment that comes from a stranger. Particularly when it's a compliment that makes you forget the pain in your knees. I'm going to try to compliment strangers more.

After an hour or so on deck I began to get a bit worried about Matt. I contemplated going to look for him but thought better than this because I figured that the chance of us crossing paths was very small. I tried calling the cabin from the phone on deck to see if he was hiding from the sun there – no answer. While trying to use the phone I ran into the our friends from the deck from a few days earlier – the chap who was going to be an unofficial tour guide in Rome. Apparently it had been a great success.

I read a few more chapters of my book. I tried calling the cabin again – no answer. I asked one of the stewards for the number for reception. I don't know quite what I expected reception to do: send out a search party to the launderette? Put an announcement out over the tannoy? I hadn't heard any lost person announcements the whole time yet. Now I could understand why I've seen some passengers walking around with walkie-talkies. Matt turned up just before I made the phone call to reception so I never found out what they would have done.

We had lunch with 2 fairly jolly middle-aged couples. One of the men insisted on telling us that the secret of a happy retirement is a good pension; maybe he thought we should be saving and not cruising.

The afternoon was punctuated only by further copious application of factor 30 (factor 50 for Matt) and I also took the opportunity to walk from one end of our deck (12) to the other – 334 paces. I had had to return to the cabin because I got factor 30 in my eyes. I tried to deal with it with a wet wipe but if anything this made the situation worse and I needed running water. It's not as painful as getting chilli in your eye. The cabin area was very quiet in the middle of the afternoon so I could walk the whole way along counting the steps without attracting too much attention.

Sunday's evening

Sunday 12th May: continued

It was still stormy: I was still feeling fine, Matt was still feeling a bit unwell. He challenged me that I would feel unwell after having a shower. I didn't. We were a bit delayed in getting out to dinner as Matt insisted on moving around the cabin with his eyes shut in an effort to avoid the development of unmanageable nausea. I made a concession to the whole gale and wore flat shoes and we took the lift rather than risking the stairs. It amazed me the number of women tottering around on ill-fitting high-heels. I mean, style's all very well (although a lot of them weren't even stylish) but this was just plain stupidity.

I have also been amazed by the number of doddery old ladies going around with various mobility aids (sticks, frames, those terrifying fold out frames with wheels) who also attire themselves in high-heels, surely their travel insurance should preclude this. I got poked by an old lady with a stick this morning and I'm not entirely sure it was an accidental poke.

Dinner was a lot quieter than usual – I guess that a lot of people were weathering the storm in their cabins. We sat with just one other person, a fantastic lady called Susan who was on her first holiday post-kidney transplant. It was her first cruise and she described it as her branded yeast extract cruise – love it or hate it. Fortunately she loved it. She worked in logistics and was impressed with the slick running of the ship. It was a great evening; none of the conversation staples that we're becoming over familiar with when people don't have anything interesting to say (their opinions of various cruise lines, the next cruise they've got booked, how proud they are of their grandchildren who – with a few notable exceptions – sound quite unremarkable). We talked about entrepreneurship and economics. Susan was a lady who had worked very hard to get to where she was today, and clearly still worked very hard. I had a lot of respect for her, helped I suspect by her fantastic sense of humour.

None of us felt remotely ill at the end of the meal (I think there's a good deal of mind over matter and the good food and good company took Matt's mind off the storm) but the boat was still listing in all dimensions so ballroom dancing was definitely off – even in flat shoes.

Sunday's storm

Sunday 12th May

We had spent most of the breakfast period arguing about the size of Corsica. Matt claimed it was the biggest island in the Mediterranean while I was adamant that it was about the same size as the Isle of Wight. I knew that at least it was smaller than Sardinia, Sicily and Cyprus. Today's port was Ajaccio – capital of Corsica. I don't think it's the most beautiful part of the island but we didn't have enough time to venture into the mountains so spent our time exploring the town.

It's typically French including:

mmm Palmier biscuit

• a market selling lurid coloured underwear, beach towels, cheap jewellery, ugly bags etc
• numerous boulangeries / patisseries (we didn't even try to resist)
• copious amounts of dog poo on the pavements

As it turns out Corsica is indeed smaller than Sardinia, Sicily and Cyprus, but considerably larger than the Isle of Wight.

We enjoyed exploring the city and made our way towards today's Something High To Go Up which was a statue of Napoleon. I think I managed reasonably lady like clambering to make it to the top.

The main produce of Corsica (or at least that which was most conspicuous for us to buy with our tourist Euros) was:

• a strong cheese – we tasted a bit in the market and although I love cheese I didn't fancy my chances getting a kilo home
• knives – potentially risky given the security procedures you have to go through every time you get on board
• dome shaped tea-towels – with or without a miniature donkey affixed. We had been commenting on the poor state of repair of our tea towels so parted with a few tourist Euros for one of these

We got back on board in time for a late lunch, along with a chatty middle-aged couple who told us that they were thrilled to be sat with some younger people. Unfortunately the other people on the table didn't seem to be so thrilled. Maybe they were worried that we'd start talking pop music, club drugs and reality TV (we refrained on this occasion). I couldn't help but wonder if this is how miserable they are on holiday what they must be like to live with.

Afterwards we went out on deck and enjoyed a large cocktail of the day (pina colada).

The wind was picking up and it was getting a bit choppy but we had a lovely quiet spot shielded from the worst of the elements by glass screens. We were going to go back out once we had used the facilities in cabin but by this time the wind had picked up even more. According to the weather log (which Matt mainly watches on our in-cabin TV) there is actually a fresh gale, but due to the direction of travel versus the direction of the wind the apparent wind speed is a “whole” gale. This causes a “danger” sign to flash on the screen, which is slightly disconcerting. But the captain put out an announcement that we needn't worry and, apart from some dramatic water splashes around the pool, life on board carried on as normal.

Lots of people were heading for afternoon tea but Matt decided that the only thing for it was to sleep through the storm and I tucked into some prophylactic crystallised ginger. If I was sick it would just serve me right for eating so much pudding the other day.

I ended up falling asleep in the cabin too. It must have been the swaying motion of the ship, or maybe the large pina colada. Either way I was rudely awoken at 7pm by an in-cabin announcement. This was it, I thought. I would have to get my life-jacket on and make my way to muster station A. I thought about the old people and how they would struggle to get into the lifeboats.

But no. It was Lewis the cruise director announcing that the evening's singer (a semi-finalist in a 2007 TV talent show) was sea sick (he put it rather more euphemistically than this) and informing us of what other entertainments would be available, including a 60s and 70s night which he assured us was the era of the music not the age restriction of the passengers (this is just a taste of the poor quality “jokes” that we had to endure from Lewis).

Saturday's pirate dance

Saturday 11th May, continued

Having only consumed one of the little packets of biscuits that they put in your cabin and an ice-cream (all be it a very delicious ice-cream) since 9am we were rather peckish when we got back on the ship. Everything was gearing up for the evening meal but we legged it up 10 decks (we have been trying to avoid the lifts in an effort to burn energy, plus they are a bit temperamental and time was of the essence) to make it to the poolside pizzeria 10 minutes before it shut. I really enjoyed my hungrily eaten pizza (we were in Italy after all) and chips (it was only a little pizza). 

We'd have to wait a while for that to go down to make space for dinner. There were lots of other cruise ships in Civitavecchia so we took a walk around the deck to look at them all - I was particularly excited by the one with loads of waterslides at its stern. 

The captain's disdain of the Italians became apparent. He'd announced the previous evening that there would be quite a few cruise ships in Civitavecchia that day and due to the lack of "control" that "Port Control" ever exerted he would not be able to guarantee our docking time, even though it was booked for 7am. Then, this evening, he said that we would have to have a tug out of the port, even though there was no need, and insinuated that this was just for "jobs for the boys". 

We had the pool to ourselves for another vigorous pre-dinner swim. Again, on a ship with 3000 passengers this amazes me. In preparation for dinner Matt decided that his beard had got long enough and took his clippers to it. Unfortunately he had an accident with them on the back of his neck and I was thus entrusted to even things up. Hair dressing is clearly not one of my natural abilities but I was trusted enough to sort it out. I saw this as my perfect opportunity to adorn Matt with one of those little rat tail tufty bits popular with small Dutch boys (at least this was the case on French campsites in the early 1990s). Matt didn't like this style so I was benevolent and did my best to give him a straight hairline.

Dinner was a peculiar affair. We were on a table of 8 which is a difficult size to have a conversation involving the whole table so Matt and I mostly chatted with a lively older couple who had been engaged for 18 years. Also on our table were:

• a miserable looking middle-aged couple. He perked up a bit when talking about football. She didn't perk up at all.
• an older couple - Gladys and Glen. I think that Gladys was one of those older people who is deaf but doesn't realise it. She became very animated when talking about the potteries, the evils of drink and the unnecessary use of mobility scooters. They both became animated when talking about the gym. Gladys was also disproportionately excited about fountains. In this respect (rather than that of the potteries or the gym) Matt had found a like-minded traveller.

We were very late dining this evening and observed the waiters counting cutlery as we finished our coffees. I presumed that this was a safety precaution (to make sure no-one had removed a knife to use as a weapon) but our fellow diners suggested it was more likely to be to check for losses from an economic perspective.

I instructed Matt to be careful in his leading of the dance tonight as I had a rather short dress on; but we were quite successful, especially to my request of the Pirates of the Caribbean Tango. I particularly like this music because you can really get into character with some well placed ooh-ahh pirate noises. 

Wednesday's sight-seeing

Wednesday, May 8^th 2013

Today was our first shore day: Cartagena on the Costa Calida – the warm coast. There were a few organised trips but we had read our touristical literature and felt pretty sure that we could take care of ourselves.

We disembarked after breakfast (slightly more substantial today as we would probably skip lunch) and followed the signs for the Castillo de la Concepcion. This was in order to achieve one of our customary touristical activities of Going Up Something High. Unfortunately we caught up with an organised group of Americans from another ship (the group was organised, not the individual Americans). 

The big lift

There is a big lift (or elevator for any trans-Atlantic readers) to take you up to the castle. Unfortunately it was a small lift, the capacity of which was reduced (in units of people rather than pure mass) because there were a number of obese Americans ahead of us in the queue.

Leaving Matt to keep our place in said queue I negotiated my way to the information / ticket booth where (after being told about all the various combination tickets available) I ascertained that it was possible to skip the lift and walk up to the castle. So we duly commenced our ascent of the stairs that circumnavigated the lift, only to find after about one storey that they were blocked off. We did however happen upon the Refugio de la Guerra Civil. I’ve been really interested in the Spanish Civil War for a few years (since I read a novel in which it was the backdrop), so this museum housed in a municipal air raid shelter built into the hill under the castle during the 1936-1939 conflict was a happy coincidence. We parted with our first tourist Euros of the holiday and it was €3.50 (in total) well spent. After the recent horsemeat debacle I was particularly enthralled by a recollection about donkey meat which was being passed off as horsemeat.

Subsequently we meandered around the streets of Cartagena and found the elusive pedestrian route to the castle, where a few more tourist Euros were well spent. There were a number of interesting displays, this time about the older parts of the City’s history. This section was completed with a 2 player game in which Rome (me) battles Carthage (Matt) based on answering questions about what the displays have just told you. Carthage showed strength in answering questions correctly. Rome showed strength in answering questions incorrectly quicker than Carthage, which was advantageous to Rome when both got the wrong answer. But ultimately Carthage was victorious.

In the grounds of the castle there were peacocks who chose not to do a handsome display for us (I would have liked to get a photo to paint) but I was wiser than to provoke them into doing so.

Matt tries out his jousting skills

And then there was an area set up for practising your jousting skills. Matt did well, especially as we had that wibbly feeling from transferring from the ship to solid ground. 

Oh, and the original intention of the castle visit – to Go Up Something High – was met as we were able to climb to the top.

Panorama from Something High in Cartagena

We descended into the town and further helped the local economy (which does give the impression of needing help) by purchasing some snacks in a bakery (skipping lunch is much better in theory than in practice). 

Trying out a local snack

I had something intriguing that was a bit like a giant sweet poppadum, mildly flavoured with fennel and pine nuts. I also popped into a supermarket (while Matt rested / snacked on a bench) to get some soft drinks and was pleased to be able to help an American (or possibly Canadian) couple choose some red wine. They were getting into quite a grumpy debate about it. “Why don’t just ask someone?” said the wife, which I took as my cue to explain the difference between a Rioja and a Temperanillo. I have no idea what the difference (or indeed differences) between a Rioja and a Temperanillo is but my best wine buff impression and thus prevented any more marital disharmony. I’m still pondering whether the end justified the means.

We meandered back to the seafront of this very pleasant town, stopping for an ice-cream on the way (clearly justified as we had grossly underspent our tourist Euro budget for the day), and were back to the ship with a bit of a margin before departure.

Unfortunately for Felicity and Terence they did not make it back to the ship: the captain announced that we would be leaving without them. I mused about the possibility that the captain had invented Felicity and Terence as a lesson to the rest of us not to miss the boat at subsequent ports. Matt and I then planned our train journeys around Europe should this calamity befall us. We decided that they would be fairly straightforward trips, perhaps even enjoyable, apart from Corsica to Gibraltar which might be a little too tricky in the available time.

Nb. During an interlude in last night’s dancing I took a quick trip to the library. The city in North Africa that we had seen was indeed Tangier. Marakech and Casablanca being located to the West (not the East as I had thought which proves that my knowledge of North African geography does indeed leave a lot to be desired).

Tuesday's dining

Tuesday, May 7^th 2013: continued

To make up for our extreme laziness earlier in the day we did a vigorous 20 minute swim before getting ready for dinner. It was getting quite late now and it was strange being in the pool with the early buffeteers heading past in their formal night regalia.

One of the things I like about cruising is the possibility of getting dressed up. I love wearing dresses but rarely do so at home (maybe I should do more) but here I can wear one every night. And tonight I was planning on wearing my wedding dress. It’s not a supremely wedding-y wedding dress and since I had the bottom of it trimmed off it passes as a lovely ball gown. The challenge now was going to be fitting into it since I am at least 5kg heavier than I was on my wedding day plus with all the swimming I’ve been doing my back has got kind of muscly. It would definitely be wise to wear it towards the start of our holiday rather than saving it for the end.

I had to enter the dress head first (I used to be able to go feet first) but with assistance from Matt I was fastened in. Assistance is probably the wrong word as Matt did all of the fastening.

Alstromeria?

We had another great table at tonight. Jackie (travelling with her cousin Jill) was able to identify my up-until-now-unidentifiable flower as an Alstromeria. Debbie (travelling with her husband Simon who had celebrated his 50^th birthday last year) was celebrating her 50^th birthday whist on board – she looked amazing. They were some of the younger people who we met. Raymond (travelling with his delightful wife Rosa) looked like the eponymous captain from a brand of fish fingers. He had no social graces – which I loved. There was little pansying around with small talk as Raymond presented the topics available for conversation as religion, politics or sex. It turned out that he was highly into astrology (albeit in a highly amateur way) and when he asked what I thought about this I was duly tactful and said that I had an open mind; which he said was “very good, for a chemist.” I recounted the occasion that I was on a radio phone-in horoscope slot. We also had quite an in-depth discussion about the literature/film interface. So we didn’t talk about religion, politics or sex after all but it was a very engrossing evening.

More dancing tonight. I don’t know if it was the dress that I was wearing that made me feel particularly elegant but it seemed to go better. We even managed to navigate the oval dance floor for a bit of quickstep (one of my favourite dances to watch but least favourite to do as I always feel a bit like a galloping horse).

After 3 full days at sea (which have been immensely restful) I am finally feeling confident finding my way around the ship. My initial confusion was not helped by the facts that

1. there is no deck 13
2. all the decks have a number and a letter name
3. some of the decks’ letter names progress alphabetically but not all of them are included in this system (e.g. lido, sports, promenade)

But through repeated wanderings this has now passed. So much so that I was quickly able to direct us out of the smoking gauntlet on our pre-bed promenade on the promenade deck (or deck 7 if you prefer) - even in high heels.

Tuesday's photo opportunities

There was no alarm failure this morning – Matt had taken charge of the phone. But it was set on full volume and woke us up with a shock. Matt is always the first to leap out of bed in such circumstances but was unable to turn the alarm off in his semi-conscious state so threw the phone at me and told me to deal with it.

We ate breakfast with a couple who referred to each other as “The Husband” and “The Wife”. This was somewhat distracting and added a level of complexity to what would otherwise have been a simple conversation. “The Husband” and “The Wife” had been married 26 years and it was their first holiday together. “The Husband” told us that “The Wife” usually goes on holiday with her sister while he stays at home, looks after the 4 dogs and watches what he wants on the television. “The Wife” and my husband had an impassioned conversation about Yorkshire Terriers. “The Husband” and I joined in, enthusiastically but not quite so passionately. We looked at photographs of the Yorkies in each others’ lives and discussed their ailments past and present. “The Husband” took great delight in describing the Yorkie graveyard in their garden, complete with granite headstones.

They said that they had seen dolphins this morning which prompted a discussion about the benefits of having opposable thumbs and being able to walk on two legs versus the “price” we pay for this in terms of the rearing of young. I resisted the urge to test out walking on my arms and legs, deciding that this was something that should be investigated in the privacy of my own cabin.

We had the laziest morning so far, I didn’t even manage a cursory swim. After liberally application of sunscreen we chose some sun loungers on the “sport’s deck”. Since when lazing and reading has been a sport I’m not sure.

For the second day in a row I showed great virtue and chose the lighter options for starter and main at lunchtime. Followed by hot pudding and ice-cream. We sat with some very nice people (despite their mildly xenophobic attitudes) and discussed whether the 1969 moon landing was a conspiracy. This was clearly something that would not be settled over lunch – Matt and I were the only ones who weren’t born at the time so it was probably a bit difficult to contribute convincingly to the conversation but that didn’t stop us trying. We talked about social care and how it may well be cheaper to the tax-payer for people who require long term care to go on a permanent cruise (we didn’t talk about whether this would be the most appropriate way to deliver long term care).

Nature report 1

• Yesterday’s non-human life-forms observed were a fly and wasp. Fortunately they were more interested in Matt than me. I hate wasps.
• Today we saw a whale blowing from its spout and also some birds. I said I thought these were skuas but this was based on nothing more than a vague recollection that the skua is a sea bird and we are at sea. A more accurate description would be “sea pigeon” – they were sort of pigeon sized and coloured but with more crescent shaped wings and were more elegant in flight.
• Despite asking all the people we’ve sat with what the flowers on the table are I am yet to find someone who knows (although one lady told me she has some in her garden).

These natural conundrums would have been quickly answered with instant access to the internet or a photo sent to my parents but in these circumstances may never be resolved. Maybe a trip to the library is in order.

As we approached the Straits of Gibraltar Matt got nearly as excited as he had done when he had seen the boats towing oil rigs on our previous cruise. My knowledge of North African geography leaves quite a lot to be desired (actually my geographical knowledge of the whole of Africa leaves quite a lot to be desired, although I can tell you that Timbuktu is Mali) and we spent a while debating what the large settlement was. I decided that it was probably Tangiers. This is because I think that Marrakech and Casablanca are further east and Tangiers is the only settlement I know of until you get to Egypt. A trip to the library before dinner is definitely in order.

One of the benefits of being at sea is that I don’t lose Matt to the taking of innumerable photographs. With the sighting of land both port and starboard this could not continue. Not to be outdone I took a break from my sun lounger and ventured up to the imaginatively named “Sky Deck”. Here I had to contend with very gusty winds and use my core to steady myself whilst I tried to get a panoramic shot of North Africa and another of Southern Spain. 

I also got a paparazzi style photograph of Matt reading – sun protection now provided with by his yellow sarong (plus factor 50 underneath).

I think that I impressed Matt with my knowledge of African geography, identifying that the Atlas Mountains can be located on this continent. Whether these were the mountains that we could see was another matter.

We packed away our books and headed to the front (I suppose I should really call is the bow) of the “Lido Deck” to get a good view as the ship made its way through the Straits.

The Straits of Gibraltar

Given that there are 3000 passengers it was a pretty poor show that only 7 or 8 of us experienced this. It was blowing an absolute hoolie (I had to keep myself warm with my swimming towel) so I suppose that should excuse the very elderly. But really? On a beautiful afternoon, to miss this? There were more people plodding away in the gym behind us.

Matt and I spent a few minutes posing for photos with the rock of Gibraltar positioned as a hat.

Monday's evening

Tuesday, May 7^th 2013

Dinner last night was great. Not for the food (which was nonetheless very nice and pudding featured ice-cream again), but for the conversation. We sat with some ladies whose pensions from a well-known bank were clearly generous enough to fund frequent cruising. My accent deduction skills were on top form as I correctly identified that they were from Merseyside. They had worked in IT (or “computers” as it was in the 1980s) and one of them had been involved with the introduction of credit cards. It’s difficult now to think of the pre-plastic era let alone that someone had had the job of going around retailers installing the system for this.

Also on our table was a couple from Farnham, both of whom were (still) self-employed. The topics of conversation included:

• the perils of navigation (I had once got lost in Farnham and could think of nothing else to say about this settlement, unfortunately my mentioning of this resulted in an extensive discourse on Farnham’s one-way system)
• the dreadful weather we’ve been having in the UK over the last few years (I even threw in a comment about the jet stream)
• how much Americans eat (a lot)
• the benefits and pitfalls of working from home (you never have to get dressed versus lack of human contact)
• how good ice-cream is (and which cruise lines offer all you can eat ice-cream, they might be getting my custom next)
• the ridiculous health and safety notices on board. My personal favourite being “do not flush while seated”. Frankly if you need a sign to tell you this I think that you’ve got whatever’s coming to you. I would excuse this sign if they had those light activated flushes that you can set off by accident (I did this once in Switzerland, it was quite terrifying), but they are push button ones and the toilet seat lid covers the button up (until you put the lid down – I wish I had a diagram to show you) so you really would have to go to some effort to flush whilst seated.

Bonus calorie saving of the day: avoid the cheeseboard.

We decided to give the dance floor (and our feet) a rest and headed instead to one of the shop’s numerous bars. This one had a view to the stern (look at me with the nautical jargon) which at 10.30pm was not very much apart from a ship behind us. Matt took this opportunity to explain to me about port and starboard and red and green lights.

Amazingly, one of the bartenders recognised us from our previous cruise. Even more amazingly he recognised us as “The Dancers”.

A little night cap

Since the clocks were going forward overnight (which would be yet another complication to the alarm setting) we retired to our cabin after just one cocktail.

Monday's energy savings

Monday, May 6^th 2013: continued

After yesterday morning’s oversleeping I made sure that I turned up my phone to full volume before going to bed. I awoke feeling pleasingly refreshed (maybe the separate beds?) so was surprised that the alarm hadn’t gone off. I was even more surprised to find that it was gone 10 o’clock. Evidently the alarm doesn’t sound if the phone is turned off.

Calorie saving of the day 1: skip breakfast. I persuaded Matt that as it could be less than 2 hours until lunch (we had already spent some time faffing) we could swim, shower and then eat. We headed to the largest of the ship’s 4 pools; it was overcast this morning and this pool has the benefit of being undercover in such conditions (like a convertible car). I did a 20 minute swim but not very vigorously (no risk of being mistaken for a channel swimmer) as I had my “beach” bikini on and was rather concerned about the security of various parts of my anatomy in it. I did however enjoy doing some forward somersaults (without any loss of anatomy).

Calorie saving of the day 2: opt for the lighter options. Which I enjoyed for starter and main at lunchtime. Followed by treacle sponge and ice-cream. We had signed up for a “soda” package (20 drinks for the price of 16 or something like that) and had spent quite some time deliberating as to whether to add 20 branded soft whipped ice-creams for an extra £7.50. While this seemed like a bargain (and I do like a bargain), 20 branded soft whipped ice-creams would be quite a lot to get through. It was not clear whether these branded soft whipped ice-creams would come with chocolate flakes and while I love ice-cream this branded soft whipped type is not my favourite and I figured that there would be good ice-cream opportunities available at the port stops. As it turns out there are also good ice-cream opportunities available every lunch time and dinner time. It is always a pudding option (seemingly different flavours on every occasion in addition to the standard vanilla) and, even better, it is possible to exchange whatever dessert condiment is allocated (e.g. custard for the treacle sponge) for an ice-cream “side”. You can even have ice-cream as well as the allocated dessert condiment. It was a good call to opt out of the branded soft whipped ice-cream.

Over lunch I practised my small talk. Today’s subjects included the various ways of travelling to Southampton (in particular from Edinburgh) and Scottish (and other bits of the UK) independence, which I suppose might really be classed as political debate rather than small talk. Although you couldn’t really class it as debate as everyone joining in had the same opinion.

Calorie saving of the day 3: avoid the afternoon tea buffet. We had spent most of the afternoon in the convertible area by the pool, reading and playing my favourite fruit based word game. A 4 o’clock hoards of people started walking through this area. It was a few hours since we’d eaten and we were getting a bit peckish. So I suggested to Matt that we pack up our stuff and get afternoon tea (rather than go for the poolside pizzeria). We had always intended to go to the restaurant for this, as it is a civilised thing to do that doesn’t happen in day-to-day life (well not in ours anyway), plus there would be several flights of stairs to navigate which would be good exercise. In order to get to the waiter service restaurant we had to walk through the buffet area. This was clearly where the hordes were heading and now settling with their plates piled high with cakes, rolls, scones, samosas and curry. Yes, samosas and curry: since when afternoon tea has featured these I do not know. In the restaurant I was much more restrained – it is somehow ore difficult to over-eat when other people give you food rather than you putting it on your plate yourself from a seemingly unending supply. The only disruption to the aforementioned civility was when I failed to differentiate between the butter and the cream on my mini-toasted tea cake. Retrospectively the difference was obvious since the butter was in those little gold wrapping papers.

Then we re-settled by the pool. I wanted to paint the mini-fruit tart that Matt and I had just shared. I am not particularly good at painting and I particularly not good if I am trying to do it from memory. So I braved venturing into the buffet to see if I could pick up a tart to model for me. Unfortunately I was too late – afternoon tea had been cleared to make way for the Enid Blyton character themed tea. I didn’t think that the under 5s would have appreciated me taking one of their jam tarts to help me with my art so I would have to rely on my powers of recall. Whether you would identify my creation as a fruit tart is doubtful, but it’s colourful at least.  

Painting a fruit tart

Sunday's relaxation

Monday, May 6^th 2013

We’d opted for freedom dining, which meant that for evening meals we could turn up when we wanted and then sit with different people each night who had turned up at the same time. This has the drawback that you don’t get to know anyone else really well; but this is, in my opinion, vastly outweighed by the benefit that you don’t run the risk of being stuck with the same people each night yet have the chance to meet lots of interesting people. (On our previous cruise we had been very lucky with our fixed dining table but the freedom dining seemed like a much better option overall.) Yesterday lunchtime (when you also turn up when you want and sit with whoever turns up at the same time) demonstrated why you might not want to sit with the same people all the time. We were sat with 3 older couples. That in itself was not a problem (there are plenty of delightful older couples). It was their nature that was troubling:

1) Mr and Mrs A. Mrs A seemed a bit grumpy and barely uttered a word. Mr A was one of those men who insist on imparting their “wisdom” to you, which I don’t mind too much if it’s interesting wisdom. But Mr A’s wasn’t as he inisted on regaling to us i) details of the (numerous) cruises that he and Mrs A have been on before ii) an (excessive) discourse on the Panama Canal. I don’t even know where the Panama Canal is, which I’m sure would have been some better wisdom to acquire.

2) Mr and Mrs B who seemed very friendly but as they were sat opposite us on quite a large table it seemed somehow socially inappropriate to bellow across to them.

3) Mr and Mrs C who seemed nice enough but despite varied conversation starters from Matt and myself just weren’t very chatty. They became animated during an exchange with Mr A about the benefits of high end supermarkets’ ready meals. At which point Mr A asked me if I cook. Since Matt and I had been having a private conversation about sun protection I initially responded about the perils that Matt faces from ultra-violet radiation. Until Mr A made it clear that he meant the kitchen type of cooking and not the skin type. Apparently his daughter-in-law never cooks  - he seemed to be quite cross about this. I felt very smug in replying that I cook frequently and even on busy nights we don’t have ready meals (from high end or low end supermarkets). Unless of course you include homemade reheat.

Sunday afternoon passed highly uneventfully. After taking a turn on the promenade deck to walk off lunch (which included edible proof of a pudding that Matt had previously not believed existed: Brown Betty), in which I was successful in not losing anything overboard (one of my main cruise fears), we avoided the organised deck sports, donned appropriate sun protection and found some loungers in a quiet spot. We read for a bit, looked at the clouds and topped up our sun protection. I wasn’t particularly comfortable as I had to sit with my head clamped against the lounger to prevent the loss of my (rather lovely) sun hat to the occasional gust of wind.

I managed to retain my hat

After a couple of hours we moved inside and I got my watercolours out and painted the sky and sea. Matt mostly read and passed occasional comment on my interpretation of the sky and sea.

 

I clearly have some way to go before
I'll be exhibiting at the Royal Academy

And then it was 7 o’clock and probably time to contemplate getting ready for dinner. This would mainly consist of ironing (Matt) and dealing with nails (me). As usual I made a right mess of painting my right finger nails but did a very neutral colour so hopefully it didn’t look too bad to a casual observer.  

We ate dinner with a lovely, recently retired couple from Waterlooville. Sharon was particularly pleased to live somewhere called this. Neil had worked shifts for many years and they were “making up for lost time” cruising now. I was rather disconcerted by Neil’s earring (it just somehow didn’t go with a dickie bow). We enjoyed sharing stories of camping (our usual holiday mode) and discovered that they had met in Germany. Neil had been in the forces and Sharon had gone out married to one serviceman and come back married to  another (Neil).

I had my first ever experience of Lobster. And very nice it was too. It had a cheesey sauce and, as we know, cheese improves almost everything.

We rounded off Sunday with some more ballroom and latin dancing – a  bit better this evening mainly because I think that I had found my proverbial sea legs and Matt wasn’t drugged.

Saturday's and Sunday's feeding and exercising

Saturday, May 4^th 2013

First impressions indicated that we were well below average age. Although maybe not to the same extent as on our previous cruise since today there were a few couples with babies and toddlers. I quite like the company of the older generation but if past experience was anything to go by the greatest challenge of sharing a ship where the mean, mode and median age of your fellow travellers is over 70 would be avoiding sharp elbows at the buffet and not getting too annoyed at disregard for queue etiquette.

Setting sail (or more technically powering
off with marine diesel) from Southampton

If you look hard enough you can spot
my Mum and Dad waving us off from the
garden of The Grove, Hythe.

              

  Sunday, May 5^th 2013

We did some dancing after dinner last night. This was not entirely successful as:

1) The dance floor was oval. We are used to a quadrilateral which provides helpful position markers for our moves

2) There was a lot of sequence dancing. We don’t don sequence dancing – it’s too regulated

3) Matt, my husband, was lacking his usual assertiveness in leading. He put this down to me having “drugged” him with sea-sickness tablets.

Despite all that I ended the evening with only 1 dancing related injury (a bit of a smashed up big toe nail) and had half learnt a Square Tango (from Paul the dance host while Matt was having some liquid refreshment). Matt kindly dealt with my toenail (which I suppose is only fair given that he is at least partially responsible for it) and I feel sure that our dancing will improve over the fortnight.

We ate dinner last night with a man from Wales, his Brazilian wife, their 5½ year old son (fluent in at least 3 languages, or as fluent as it’s possible for a 5½ year old to be) and her parents (her mother originally being from Japan). They spoke only Portuguese (and I suppose maybe Japanese but that was definitely not going to help) and despite my best efforts to combine French, Italian and Spanish (in descending order of competence) it was very difficult to converse with them. I did manage to deduce that Ida is very excited about going to Rome and Jose identified that Matt talks a lot and I am “silent” in comparison.

I had a remarkably good night’s sleep. This was despite Matt and me sharing a single bed. We had booked late and hence got an incredibly bargainous holiday but were allocated a “twin beds only” cabin. I took the outside of the bed as Matt was worried about falling out (I didn’t see this as a risk as long as the sea stayed calm). Unfortunately Matt didn’t sleep as well as me so we may have to take separate beds from tonight.

The plan for today, a full day at sea, was to do not very much, but to make the most of the day and take advantage of some of the on board facilities. Therefore I set an alarm on my mobile for 8am. This would facilitate an early morning swim but still give us time for a leisurely breakfast.

As we have an inside cabin there are no solar clues as to the hour of the day. I was shocked when I awoke and checked the time: it was 9.20am. I had clearly neglected the fact that my alarm doesn’t sound if I leave my phone on silent. (This wasn’t as bad as the time that I locked my phone with alarm set in a hotel safe overnight when I was in Greece with a friend. We didn’t hear it go off and overslept so badly that we missed an extensive boat trip that we had booked the previous day.

So, early morning swim and leisurely breakfast were off. Buffet breakfast and mid-morning snack was on. As well as the aforementioned risk of sharp elbows at the buffet, the other risk is of over-eating. We both showed extreme restraint on this, our first, visit – Matt having his usual of a bowl of porridge (bolstered with a side of blueberry smoothie) and me breakfasting on a bowl of fresh fruit plus one piece of toast with a few beans, mushrooms and tomatoes. Pleasingly they even had mini portions of my favourite yeast extract spread which enhances greatly such a toast based morning meal.

At breakfast we were joined by an older couple who had lived in Plymouth in the 1960s. They enjoyed reminiscing about some of their favourite haunts back then, many of which are still around now. I enjoyed listening to their stories – one of their daughters was born at the hospital that used to be on the site where I lived when I first moved to the city. I think that we might have persuaded them to take a holiday to Plymouth – I hope that they’re not disappointed! – but apparently it will be better than the Northern town in which they currently live (which shall remain nameless).

We swam in the adults’ only pool, which we had found during our explorations yesterday. It is deceptively located within the spa complex (which I had no intention of paying extra for) and at first I thought there was and additional charge to swim her. However we managed to ascertain from dandy Daniel (Matt’s choice of adjective) that this was not the case. It is apparently one of those pools with a current that you swim against but that didn’t seem to be working this morning and it was too short to swim lengths so I did laps. It was too late when I realised that persistently going round in the same direction would make me dizzy, and there was a bit of a swell picking up too which can’t have helped that sensation. I got out after about 20 minutes and, hilariously, one of the older “spectators” asked me if I was a channel swimmer because I “looked like one”. I took that as a compliment rather than a comment on my layers of body insulation.