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.

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.

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. 

Friday's gluttony

Friday 10th May, continued

Suitably relieved, we headed off towards the old town. This involved walking through the newer town past numerous designer shops. We gawped in the windows a bit, including at one mobile phone with a price tag of €16500 (that is not a typo).

The possibility of Going Up Something High was not over as there was a useful looking tower in the old town. We meandered the streets towards it and found it was part of the Musée Castre. This was a very random ethnographical (whatever that means) museum, apparently one of the oldest in France. We started off with the tower - this was obviously the main touristical attraction for us. It was with the 109 step (22 metre) climb for the fabulous views over the bay and town.

The museum was pretty good too. It was a welcome break from the now hot sun (I wouldn't be needing my anorak again) and there were some interesting exhibits. I particularly enjoyed the paintings if Cannes in the 19th century and the large display of musical instruments.

I enjoyed speaking a bit of French today, although as always I feel that my inability to correctly conjugate verbs let me down. I did manage to successfully negotiate the taking of a photo for a couple whom I put my conversational skills to use on to discover that they were on holiday from Normandy. My conversational skills were insufficient to be able to explain the difference between Portsmouth and Plymouth - a geographical knowledge impediment that I am becoming bored of explaining to people of my native tongue. I also successfully negotiated the purchase of a sarong for Matt - a red one with tortoises and fish bones that matches his yellow one with seaweed and fish bones.

I'd taken a sneaky peak at the evening's menu and wasn't particularly grabbed by anything so I persuaded Matt to give the buffet a go. The theme was Mexican.

This was a bad idea: 

• Not because I missed the waiter service - it was nice to be a bit more relaxed
• Not because the food was bad - it was yummy and there was plenty of choice for veggies
• Not because the company was bad - Matt and I had a window table for 2 and as usual enjoyed each other’s company (obviously I can't speak for him but he didn't complain and I enjoyed it). Our conversation was more normal: 
• talking about some topics that might not be acceptable with strangers including the practicalities of diving into the sea from high decks - would you reach terminal velocity? Would it hurt? How long would it take? - I was even using a bit of my college maths
• not having to take care to avoid insulting anyone - we could freely reflect upon the characteristics of some of our fellow passengers.

No, it was a bad idea because the buffet led to a dangerous relaxation of table manners. While this had some notable benefits (I do enjoy eating with my fingers when possible) it opened the floodgates of gluttony. We piled our plates high with salads for starters - so much that would be enough for a whole meal.

We followed this with a generous helping of hot mains - although I did avoid the ubiquitous roast potatoes which seem to be available with all meals in the buffet (including breakfast and late night snacks, I recommend this holiday as an option if you're a fan of roast potatoes). This might have been just about acceptable but I was then presented with a delicious-looking array of puddings. How could I choose between dulche de leche flan, churros with chocolate sauce and chilli & pecan chocolate brownies? I couldn't and I didn't. Fortunately I don't like bread and butter pudding (even the Mexican sort?) so a total waistline disaster was averted.

The extra brownie is one I selected for Matt