Toussaint
The usual pattern of chaos as we started our latest trip. Martyn woke feeling dreadful, so for a while it felt to me as if it was doubtful whether we’d get away at all. Well, we carried on with preparations, and headed out around 10:00 as planned. The roads were very busy, lousy with diversions, but mercifully the surface of the A/M27 has been improved a bit since last time we used it. I was driving Martyn’s car, and, being used to my somewhat more staid Renault, found it a bit skittish and prone to wandering off line. I’ll try and dial up lane-assist on the way home.
Unfortunately, (a) I forgot to pick up my phone, and (b) I didn’t swot up on the procedure for parking (we’d booked too late to get parking at the port).
Well, we rolled up at the rather scabby car park: not a soul in sight, so we rang the number on the instructions. No reply, but we were eventually routed to an answering machine, and in due course got a call back. We repaired to the Starbucks next door, and got some rather unappetising sausage sandwiches. Before they could brew our tea, I spotted a minibus arriving at the car park, and the driver told me that because we hadn’t confirmed our arrival time in advance, we’d be charged an extra £20, which I coughed up with ill grace. Well, the old rattletrap bus (an orchestra of rattles, seats repaired with duct tape, and a driver with an alarming deficit of front teeth) got us to the port around our check-in time. Unusually for Cunard, the departure hall was teeming and rather chaotic, though our ‘platinum’ customer status got us to jump one of the queues.
From there on, much as normal. Our bags appeared quite promptly: indeed, my wheelie case was there before us. One we’d unpacked, we took a stroll round the ship to remind ourselves of the layout. We’re quite fmiliar now with the Vista class sisters, Elizabeth and Victoria, but less so with the Anne.
Dinner was good: we’d opted for early dining, which better reflects our usual habits. We have a table for two this time, as we’d asked, and had pleasant company for a while with a couple from the Midlands, who had booked open dining. I guess this means that we’ll have different neighbours each night. We were both pretty knackered, so repaired to the cabin for tea and an early night. Some hope: we both had trouble getting to sleep.
Monday
Both feeling groggy after a poor night, so we’ve stayed in the cabin, and had breakfast here rather than jostle with the crowds. We must have been sailing over a big shoal of fish, since we’ve been entertained by hundreds of gannets diving for fish!
Quiet day: sandwiches from the lido, quiet spell reading in the Commodore club, and supper from room service.
Tuesday
Excellent talk about Dickens by Robert Powell. The theatre was packed to the roof, so they live-streamed it to the pub next door, where we got seats. (He’s doing another talk on Saturday, on Jane Austen, so we’ll get to the theatre a bit earlier.)
Pleasant, smallish lunch in the Britannia, which we much prefer to the scrum in the lido. Back to the cabin for a showing of Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines. Dozens of famous names from the sixties, including Robert Morley, Eric Sykes, Terry-Thomas, and bit parts for Tony Hancock, Millicent Martin and Fred Emney. Glorious slapstick nonsense.
The sea has jostled us a bit today: nothing serious, but the ship, for all its 113,000 gross tons, does roll a bit. We are well out into the Atlantic of course, and with another full day at sea tomorrow, we expect more of the same.
Wednesday
Sea a little calmer this morning, and though we have about eight tenths cloud, it is nice and mild. The news from the Untied States also improves the Weltanschauung.
We attended a talk by maritime historian Dr Helen Doe about Cornish shipbuilders whose schooners carried citrus fruit from the Açores to London and Bristol. Dr Doe is descended from one of the Fowey shipbuilding families, on whom Daphne Du Maurier based a novel.
This afternoon we had a different form of entertainment: a hitch-hiking fieldfare visited our balcony for a while (leaving behind suitable decorations…). We got a few decent photos, so I’ll edit them into the blog when we get home.
Dispiriting dinner alongside an uncommunicative couple - even between themselves. Restorative martini in the Commodore club, where we were entertained by two talented and skilful Irish musicians, JoeJoe and Tommy. Guitar, flute, fiddle and good voices. We’ll look out for them in the programme.
Thursday
Cloudy and damp when we arrived in Ponta Delgada this morning, but it was good to see land again after four nights and three days at sea. The weather was fine by the time we left for our excursion, and has remained so here on the south coast, where we’ve sat for a while on the balcony.
We first visited a charming botanic garden in town, and Martyn took lots of pictures: I’ll do an album when we get back. Distinct echoes of the Estufa Fria, right down to the resident poultry and waterfowl, but it’s built on a very craggy hillside. Next were the crater lakes up in the hills, but the low cloud meant we didn’t get the classic brochure view! The mist shifted a lot as we watched, so the atmosphere added a sort of mysterious charm. Next to a viewpoint from which we could see both coasts and the cones of many youngish extinct or dormant volcanoes. Finally a visit to the pineapple greenhouses in town, where we learned a lot about the propagation and cultivation of the fruit, which has to be done under glass in these climes. The place also offered excellent WiFi, so I got to clear my mailbox and deal with some commercial bits and pieces.
The island differs a lot from the other atlantic islands we’ve visited. I hadn’t registered how dependent it is on the dairy industry: none of the vines and bananas of Madeira, for example. Once a thriving producer of citrus fruit for the English market, a disease of the trees put paid to that, leaving the islands increasingly dependent on dairy. The government’s refusal to accede to Ryanair’s blackmail demand and said airline’s consequent withdrawal has hit the tourism industry hard. Pineapple cultivation is very expensive here, hence uncompetitive away from the local market.
Pleasant afternoon on the balcony, watching the port getting on with what
ports do. There were a couple of intrepid hydrofoil windsurfers out in the harbour, and quite a few litle dinghies a bit further out. We’ve seen quite a few swimmers as well.
Friday
Quite a busy cruise destination, this. A Royal Caribbean ship came and went yesterday, and when I surfaced this morning, a Norwegian Cruise Lines and an Ambassador ship had moored opposite us. And the cargo port is pretty active as well. A small container ship just came past, carrying a scattering of cars and vans as well as a few dozen containers. Curiously, there are no ferry services from this island, although I believe there are some between islands to the west. The port is beneath the final approach to the airport, and there’s a bit of - I guess - inter-island traffic with Dash-8s. A Star Alliance A320 just came in - presumably Lufthansa: even with the two hour time difference between here and Germany, that must have been an early start! And I sit with my first tea of the day, the pilot cutter has just headed out again.
We had a stroll round town this morning, including a visit to the impressive market. I tried to log into the internet at a few cafés without success. I’ve therefore re-mortgaged the house to buy Cunard’s mediocre wifie for the reminder of our trip.
Announcement at midday from the old man, cancelling our brief call in Madeira tomorrow because of forecast strong wind. Instead, we shall be calling at Praia da Vitória on Terceira. Good: much as we like Madeira, we have been there a number of times, but I haven’t been to Terceira.
Saturday
After a leisurely breakfast in the cabin, we took the shuttle bus along to Praia da Vitória, and had a pleasant stroll down to the waterfront. Of course, the place was lousy with pale-faced cruise passengers, and the promenade was just bars and a souvenir shop. Deciding I ought to show willing, I went into the shop, and on seeing the wall-to-wall tat and the crowds, stepped right out again. Pleasant town on the sea front: nothing spectacular.
We traced our way back up the hill to where we could get the bus back to the ship, had a nice lunch and retired for a nap. Meanwhile, the rain had come on, so it turned out we’d timed our walk well. Thereafter, thus usual mix of quiz, eating, and music in the Commodore Club.
Sunday
Fascinating lecture by Dr Helen Doe about Brunel’s Great Britain and its chequered history. Since the weather is fine and warm, we’ve spent a while collecting some vitamin D out on the balcony. There’s a decent swell, so it has been fascinating just to sit watching and listening to the heaving waves.
We did quite well in one of the quizzes, and heard some good music.
Monday
A rather choppy day on the ocean. Once again, we couldn’t get seats in the theatre for Robert Powell’s lecture, this time on Jane Austen. We watched instead from an adjacent room, and enjoyed it very much. Well researched and well delivered. A little later I was in the same room for a ‘class’ on accents and dialects: fascinating, and surprisingly well attended. I hadn’t realised that there was a geographical element to the pronunciation of ‘scone’! I felt obliged to correct the presenter on the pronunciation of ‘Scone’, near Perth, however. He also offered some of his favourite actors’ tongue-twisters, so I privately offered him mine afterwards: ‘my aunt can’t punt in a sharp-cut punt’….
We were invited after dinner to the captain’s cocktail party. We turned back almost at once. The place was packed and unacceptably noisy, so we repaired instead to the good old Commodore Club, and listened for a while to JoeJoe and Tommy. Back to the cabin to watch a silly film.
Tuesday
I woke early, so for a while watched our progress into the Tagus estuary. Being on the starboard side this time, my view was of the Cristo Rei, illuminated in the morning murk. We passed under the Salazar bridge around 04:30, when there was already enough traffic to create the famous roar. I dozed off again, waking only after we were berthed.
Since it was windy and damp, we opted for a circuit on the hop-on hop-off bus, and by the time we’d completed the long trek from the ship, it was raining stair rods. We’d expected to be in Belém in time for a pastel de nata for elevenses. The traffic was incredibly slow, so by the time we got there, lunch was in full swing, and the queue ran along the street, round the corner and up the hill. So we stayed on the bus. It took an age to get back to the ship, by which time lunch service in the restaurant had ended.
But we had a good look round the city. I love the glimpses of narrow residential streets off the fancy avenues. At one time I’d have happily have spent hours exploring, but the old joints and bellows now rule that out. I’m finding my excellent Dave Mann hand-carved walking stick very helpful on stairs and uneven surfaces, as well as when getting around on board when the sea’s a bit choppy. We passed under the roaring bridge again barely twelve hours after we arrived.
Vigo tomorrow. National strike in Spain. Watch this space.
Remembrance Day
And 43 years since we buried my father. We were so relieved at getting an early date, we hadn’t twigged that we’d gone for the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. So I’ve a little more to remember than many. (On a lighter note, Martyn and I moved into our house on a Friday 13th, so we’ve learned to be a shade less superstitious.)
We braved the weather to take a look round town this morning. I can imagine that it’s an attractive place in decent weather. As it is, on a grey wet day when Spain is on general strike, we didn’t linger, and were back on board within the hour. Madeira is in for some very severe weather, and I suspect the storm will be chasing us across the bay tonight.
I went again to an ‘accent and dialect’ class, which sought to tell us how French, German, Italian and Spanish speakers pronounce English. It was full of ugly stereotypes and piss-taking. Two of us audience members took the speaker to task about it.
Supper largely on our own this evening, since we’d started early. Thence to the Commodore Club, and on to the theatre for Harry Piano. I stayed for five deafening minutes, and returned to the cabin.
Pleasant, smallish lunch in the Britannia, which we much prefer to the scrum in the lido. Back to the cabin for a showing of Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines. Dozens of famous names from the sixties, including Robert Morley, Eric Sykes, Terry-Thomas, and bit parts for Tony Hancock, Millicent Martin and Fred Emney. Glorious slapstick nonsense.
The sea has jostled us a bit today: nothing serious, but the ship, for all its 113,000 gross tons, does roll a bit. We are well out into the Atlantic of course, and with another full day at sea tomorrow, we expect more of the same.
Wednesday
Sea a little calmer this morning, and though we have about eight tenths cloud, it is nice and mild. The news from the Untied States also improves the Weltanschauung.
We attended a talk by maritime historian Dr Helen Doe about Cornish shipbuilders whose schooners carried citrus fruit from the Açores to London and Bristol. Dr Doe is descended from one of the Fowey shipbuilding families, on whom Daphne Du Maurier based a novel.
This afternoon we had a different form of entertainment: a hitch-hiking fieldfare visited our balcony for a while (leaving behind suitable decorations…). We got a few decent photos, so I’ll edit them into the blog when we get home.
Dispiriting dinner alongside an uncommunicative couple - even between themselves. Restorative martini in the Commodore club, where we were entertained by two talented and skilful Irish musicians, Jojo and Tommy. Guitar, flute, fiddle and good voices. We’ll look out for them in the programme.
Thursday
Cloudy and damp when we arrived in Ponta Delgada this morning, but it was good to see land again after four nights and three days at sea. The weather was fine by the time we left for our excursion, and has remained so here on the south coast, where we’ve sat for a while on the balcony.
We bought an excursion, and first visited a charming botanic garden in town, and Martyn took lots of pictures: I’ll do an album when we get back. Distinct echoes of the Estufa Fria, right down to the resident poultry and waterfowl, but it’s built on a very craggy hillside. Next were the crater lakes up in the hills, but the low cloud meant we didn’t get the classic brochure view! The mist shifted a lot as we watched, so the atmosphere added a sort of mysterious charm. Next to a viewpoint from which we could see both coasts and the cones of many youngish extinct or dormant volcanoes. Finally a visit to the pineapple greenhouses in town, where we learned a lot about the propagation and cultivation of the fruit, which has to be done under glass in these climes. The place also offered excellent WiFi, so I got to clear my mailbox and deal with some commercial bits and pieces.
The island differs a lot from the other atlantic islands we’ve visited. I hadn’t registered how dependent it is on the dairy industry: none of the vines and bananas of Madeira, for example. Once a thriving producer of citrus fruit for the English market, a disease of the trees put paid to that, leaving the islands increasingly dependent on dairy. The government’s refusal to accede to Ryanair’s blackmail demand and said airline’s consequent withdrawal has hit the tourism industry hard. Pineapple cultivation is very expensive here, hence uncompetitive away from the local market.
Pleasant afternoon on the balcony, watching the port getting on with what
ports do. There were a couple of intrepid hydrofoil windsurfers out in the harbour, and quite a few litle dinghies a bit further out. We’ve seen quite a few swimmers as well.
Friday
Quite a busy cruise destination, this. A Royal Caribbean ship came and went yesterday, and when I surfaced this morning, a Norwegian Cruise Lines and an Ambassador ship had moored opposite us. And the cargo port is pretty active as well. A small container ship just came past, carrying a scattering of cars and vans as well as a few dozen containers. Curiously, there are no ferry services from this island, although I believe there are some between islands to the west. The port is beneath the final approach to the airport, and there’s a bit of - I guess - inter-island traffic with Dash-8s. A Star Alliance A320 just came in - presumably Lufthansa: even with the two hour time difference between here and Germany, that must have been an early start! And I sit with my first tea of the day, the pilot cutter has just headed out again.
We had a stroll round town this morning, including a visit to the impressive market. I tried to log into the internet at a few cafés without success. I’ve therefore re-mortgaged the house to buy Cunard’s mediocre wifie for the reminder of our trip.
Announcement at midday from the old man, cancelling our brief call in Madeira tomorrow because of forecast strong wind. Instead, we shall be calling at Praia da Vitória on Terceira. Good: much as we like Madeira, we have been there a number of times, but I haven’t been to Terceira. Watch this space.
Saturday
After a leisurely breakfast in the cabin, we took the shuttle bus along to Praia da Vitória, and had a pleasant stroll down to the waterfront. Of course, the place was lousy with pale-faced cruise passengers, and the promenade was just bars and a souvenir shop. Deciding I ought to show willing, I went into the shop, and on seeing the wall-to-wall tat and the crowds, stepped right out again. Pleasant town on the sea front: nothing spectacular.
We traced our way back up the hill to where we could get the bus back to the ship, had a nice lunch and retired for a nap. Meanwhile, the rain had come on, so it turned out we’d timed our walk well. Thereafter, thus usual mix of quiz, eating, and music in the Commodore Club.
Sunday
Fascinating lecture by Dr Helen Doe about Brunel’s Great Britain and its chequered history. Since the weather is fine and warm, we’ve spent a while collecting some vitamin D out on the balcony. There’s a decent swell, so it has been fascinating just to sit watching and listening to the heaving waves.
We did quite well in one of the quizzes, and heard some good music.
Monday
A rather choppy day on the ocean. Once again, we couldn’t get seats in the theatre for Robert Powell’s lecture, this time on Jane Austen. We watched instead from an adjacent room, and enjoyed it very much. Well researched and well delivered. A little later I was in the same room for a ‘class’ on accents and dialects: fascinating, and surprisingly well attended. I hadn’t realised that there was a geographical element to the pronunciation of ‘scone’! I felt obliged to correct the presenter on the pronunciation of ‘Scone’, near Perth, however. He also offered some of his favourite actors’ tongue-twisters, so I privately offered him mine afterwards: ‘my aunt can’t punt in a sharp-cut punt’….
We were invited after dinner to the captain’s cocktail party. We turned back almost at once. The place was packed and unacceptably noisy, so we repaired instead to the good old Commodore Club, and listened for a while to JoeJoe and Tommy. Back to the cabin to watch a silly film.
Tuesday
I woke early, so for a while watched our progress into the Tagus estuary. Being on the starboard side this time, my view was of the Cristo Rei, illuminated in the morning murk. We passed under the Salazar bridge around 04:30, when there was already enough traffic to create the famous roar. I dozed off again, waking only after we were berthed.
Since it was windy and damp, we opted for a circuit on the hop-on hop-off bus, and by the time we’d completed the long trek from the ship, it was raining stair rods. We’d expected to be in Belém in time for a pastel de nata for elevenses. The traffic was incredibly slow, so by the time we got there, lunch was in full swing, and the queue ran along the street, round the corner and up the hill. So we stayed on the bus. It took an age to get back to the ship, by which time lunch service in the restaurant had ended.
But we had a good look round the city. I love the glimpses of narrow residential streets off the fancy avenues. At one time I’d have happily have spent hours exploring, but the old joints and bellows now rule that out. I’m finding my excellent Dave Mann hand-carved walking stick very helpful on stairs and uneven surfaces, as well as when getting around on board when the sea’s a bit choppy. We passed under the roaring bridge again barely twelve hours after we arrived.
Vigo tomorrow. National strike in Spain. Watch this space.
Remembrance Day
And 43 years since we buried my father. We were so relieved at getting an early date, we hadn’t twigged that we’d gone for the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. So I’ve a little more to remember than many. (On a lighter note, Martyn and I moved into our house on a Friday 13th, so we’ve learned to be a shade less superstitious.)
We braved the weather to take a look round town this morning. I can imagine that it’s an attractive place in decent weather. As it is, on a grey wet day when Spain is on general strike, we didn’t linger, and were back on board within the hour. Madeira is in for some very severe weather, and I suspect the storm will be chasing us across the bay tonight.
I went again to an ‘accent and dialect’ class, which sought to tell us how French, German, Italian and Spanish speakers pronounce English. It was full of ugly stereotypes and piss-taking. Two of us audience members took the speaker to task about it.
Supper largely on our own this evening, since we’d started early. Thence to the Commodore Club, and on to the theatre for Harry Piano. I stayed for five deafening minutes, and returned to the cabin.
Thursday
Yet another day at sea. We heard a talk about the SOE heroine and martyr Violette Szabo. Impressive, if somewhat harrowing. To be honest, we’d only gone to secure seats for Robert Powell’s Q&A, which was infinitely better.
Lunch in the Britannia essentially brought the cruise to an end. Within a couple of hours I was vomiting and purging, and that continued through the night and into the morning. Things had settled down a bit before we got to queue at length to go and get our bags. As instructed, we rang the car park people who were ‘terribly busy’ and couldn’t say when they’d pick us up. We opted instead to take a taxi.
And finally…
A few thoughts about the Cunard experience. I remember being greeted the first few times at the check in lane, where our bags were spirited away, and the car taken and parked. This time we weren’t offered parking at the port, and on our last couple of cruises we’ve had to find a trolley and schlepp the bags ourselves to a ‘pod’ some distance from where we parked. I don’t recall an automatic 18% service charge on all on-board purchases. I do recall free room service, now offered only for breakfast. I also recall a daily news digest delivered to the cabin. Gone. I remember spending quiet mornings reading in the Commodore Club with a cup of hot chocolate or a pre-lunch apéritif. Now no service until 1:00 pm if you’re lucky: sometimes 3:00 pm. It used to be that on winning a quiz, you’d get a stamp on a card, and the stamps you collected could be exchanged for items of Cunard merchandise - pens, specs cases, or even binoculars if you got enough points. Gone. On previous cruises we’ve enjoyed classical piano recitals on sea days, and string quartets and harpists in public areas. Gone. There used to be a complimentary shuttle bus in Lisbon from the ship to the Restauradores. Gone. Less and less for more and more. Oh, well, there are other fish - and cruise operators - in the sea.
