JakTar

This is the (overlong?) diary of a solo passenger’s 11-night cruise in the eastern Mediterranean with ports of call in Greece, Turkey and Cyprus: Athens, Thessaloniki, Kusadasi, Limassol, Rhodes, Crete and Nafplion. It may be of interest to those contemplating a similar cruise. Note: Names may have been changed to protect the guilty, and transliterating from Greek to English inevitably means eccentric and inconsistent spelling. Monday 12 February 2024 - Day 1 - Athens (Piraeus) It’s my first flight since Covid and one thing I do notice is that cabin crew still do like to use the emphatic verb to excess, and I do wish they'd stop it! It’s sunny and warm on landing at Athens Airport which has the longest walk to baggage reclaim (over 15 minutes) I’ve experienced - and the luggage belt is at the farthest end of the reclaim hall. Celebrity reps are waiting in the arrivals hall to shepherd us to the transfer coaches and it’s a 1-hour ride to Piraeus and the 23-year-old Infinity which carries a little over 2000 passengers across 12 decks and looks smart in her blue and white livery. I haven’t bothered downloading the Celebrity app (whatever that is) or printing labels or tickets, expecting my passport and reservation details to be sufficient, and so it proves (as it did at the airport). The boarding process is quick and I’m soon relaxing on the balcony of my deck 9 cabin, happy to have escaped the grey days of an English winter. Celebrity Today is the daily, 4-page, activities guide, except it isn’t - the full schedule of what’s on, a full listing of eating and drinking options, and a timetable of opening hours for shops, offices and services is on a separate insert. A second insert contains introductions to the chief personnel such as the Master, Staff Captain, Cruise Director, Chief Engineer and Executive Chef whilst a third insert offers laundry and dry cleaning packages. At 5pm it’s the Sailaway Party, except it isn’t - our departure is delayed (but who cares?) and passengers are chatting, drinking and relaxing round the pool area rather than partying. I don’t stay long because, just for today, there is a hosted Solo Travelers Get Together at 5.30 in the plush surrounds of Cellar Masters. (Any future get-togethers will be posted up on the Community Board by Guest Services.) About a dozen of us show up and, after introducing ourselves and chatting, a few decide to dine immediately afterwards in the Trellis Restaurant. It’s early for me but I decide to join in, at least for tonight. My fellow solos include: Marit from Amsterdam - a KLM cabin steward, Miles from Edmonton - a retired member of the Albertan legislature, Bill from Iowa - a nursing practitioner, Anne from Norwich - a civil servant, Farid from New Hampshire - a car dealership owner, and Steve from York who sadly flew home partway through the cruise when his father became ill. Farid is an oenophile and keen to educate this oeno-nothing, particularly about ice wines. He orders a Muscato but there are none (perhaps after a re-stock later in the cruise) so asks for a bottle of Riesling instead. Conversation, like the wine, flows easily, and I add Riesling to my list of favourite wines, which now totals…one. At the welcome-aboard show, Captain Dimitrios introduces his executive team comprising: Chief Engineer, Staff Captain, Hotel Manager, HR director, and the Executive Chef who is responsible for 9000 servings every day. This is followed by Hollywood Cabaret - a curiously amateurish presentation with weak singing, particularly from the boys of the ship's company. The DJ and bar staff outnumber late night revellers (the plural form is barely warranted) in the forward Constellation Lounge, unsurprisingly for the first night, so I have a light bite before bed (the Oceanview café is open until 1am). Tuesday 13 Feb 2024 - Day 2 - Thessaloniki At 9am there’s a 1-hour ports talk with the Cruise Director during which the Dodecanese and the Peleponnese are words she cannot pronouncewithease. The talk, which isn’t a hard sell for excursions and helpfully includes information for those going ashore independently, finishes as the ship comes alongside. We have an overnight stay in Greece’s second city, the capital of Macedonia and less than 30 miles from Pella, the birthplace of Alexander the Great, so I disembark at leisure, picking up a map from the tourist information desk on the quayside from where it’s only a short walk to the port gates opposite the grand Passenger Terminal building. I turn right walking along the waterfront towards the city centre - it’s warm and sunny with a light breeze coming off the Thermaikos Gulf - pausing at the holocaust memorial - a menorah engulfed in flames dedicated to, “… the 50000 Jewish Greeks of Thessaloniki … exterminated in the gas chambers of the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camps.” Aristotelous Square is the main city square and a statue of Alexander’s teacher is sited in front of a world-renowned icon of the modern era - a branch of KFC. Across the square is the 5-star Electra Palace Hotel where I ask at the reception desk how to say in Greek - I’m sorry, I don’t speak Greek. Do you speak English? They write - Signomi, den milao ellenika. Milas anglika? Further along the wide promenade is the round, (off-)White Tower - once part of the old walls of the city, a fortress, a prison and a place of execution, but now a national monument and a museum. In a plaza beyond stands a statue of Alexander astride Bucephalus. Inland from the tower and the adjacent Aphrodite Fountain is the Hamadiye fountain, dating from the late 19th century and named for His Imperial Majesty, The Sultan Abdulhamid II, Emperor of the Ottomans, Caliph of the Faithful, also known as Abdul Hamid II, Abd Al-Hamid II Khan Ghazi and The Crimson Sultan (or just Dave, down at the Dog and Partridge). I continue to the Sintrivani Fountain then turn left along Egnatia (one of the city’s main thoroughfares) to the Arch and Rotunda of Galerius, built by the 4th century emperor. I lose my way a little when looking for the house where Kemal Ataturk, Turkey’s founding father and first president, grew up. It’s now part of the Turkish Consulate compound and a couple of policemen point the way. The white house is now an interesting museum. Along the same street, heading back towards Aristotle Square, is the church of Agios Dimitrios, dedicated to the patron saint of the city and standing on the presumed site of his martyrdom. Building materials for restoration work in the 1940s included tombstones taken from the Jewish cemetery - now the site of the Aristotle University which also used the tombstones as building material. My circular exploration of the lower town finishes at the Roman Agora between the church and Aristotle Square and where some of the columns and lower arcades that comprised the ancient forum have managed to survive to this day. It’s late afternoon as I take a taxi for €10 up to Ano Poli - the upper town - and the main gate of the Heptapyrgion (a misnomer because the Byzantine fortress has ten rather than seven towers), close by the Trigoniou Tower. The acropolis, unlike the city below, was largely untouched by the great fire of 1917, and it has the feel of a separate village where it’s pleasant to wander through the colourful plaza and along the city walls, and in and out of hilly side streets with views of the bay below. As the sun starts to set I walk back to the plaza and buy a bus ticket from the Hellenic Kiosk opposite the bus stop for 90 cents and where I’m told the no. 23 to Egnatia (the g is pronounced as an r) will be fine for getting back to the port. "In the orange box, you can cancel your ticket," the driver tells me and when the bus stops descending and heads away from sites I recognise, I get off. The guy on the reception desk at the Ilisia Hotel opposite the bus stop tells me it’s straight down to the port. "Efharisto," I reply and, indeed, it’s only a 10-minute walk. Tonight’s Headline Entertainer, Cellist Andre Cavassi, includes rather too much of his homespun philosophy on the meaning of life - more music and less musing, please. Later, in the Constellation Lounge later, Alex Bellotto performs close-up magic. The greatest illusion of all is that some still consider magic to be entertainment. I chat with Farid in the Oceanview café talking about wine and US politics till 1.30 - he predicts calamitous consequences for a Trump victory in November. Wednesday 14 Feb 2024 - Day 3 - Thessaloniki (part 2) I have breakfast in the Spa Café by the pool where the healthier options include an unhealthily sweet organic granola. The all-aboard time is 1.30pm and it’s a serendipitous start to the half-day because opposite the port gates is the 5-star Mediterranean Palace Hotel and the no. 23 bus stop is right outside. I return to Ano Poli where, on the street corner across from the bus stop, there is a flower-bedecked tavern. Its terrace is a perfect spot for peratzatha (although there are few people around to actually watch) whilst sipping a Greek coffee, served in a cup not much larger than a thimble half-filled with coffee grounds. Back down at sea-level I return to the ship via the remains of the Vardaris Fortress and Tower opposite the port, and which are also part of the city walls. As we prepare to get underway, Captain Dimitrios tells us that it’s, “268 nautical miles to Kusadasi at an average speed of 16.8 knots. For the romantic couples out there, sunset will be at 6pm." Pink and heart-shaped creations are very much the order of the day in the Oceanview Café, and the celebration desserts look even more sickly-sweet than usual. There’s an afternoon salsa dance class in the Constellation Lounge, and if the couple from the theatre company teaching on stage had thought to place a colleague where I’m sat, they’d see, and fix, the basic errors that those furthest from the stage are making. Notting Hill is the appropriately romantic, cinematic offering on the Rooftop Terrace where there are comfortable settees and loungers. One deck down is Qsine where some of my fellow solos are planning to dine later in the cruise. It’s $60 a head for the gastronomic and 3D table-top animation experience so I’ll settle for hearing about it afterwards. Foregoing the Unveiling The Histories of Kusadasi and Limassol talk, I try the General Knowledge Trivia in the Constellation Lounge instead. It’s hosted by Marianna, the Activities Manager from the Ukraine who isn’t a fan of the article, whether definite or indefinite. What is definite, she tells us, is that whenever she runs the trivia quiz, “Russia” will never be the right answer. At the solos meet before dinner, I chat with Bill who used to be an army medic. He’s travelling through Europe to escape a messy divorce from his second marriage - his first ended when his wife decided, after being with him for nine years, that she was a lesbian. This evening the captain officiates at the Vow Renewal At Sea ceremony in the Grand Foyer where our cellist sets the mood with romantic classics as crowds gather - spectators around the balconies and participants on the stairs. The captain takes over, vows are declared, couples hug and kiss and everyone applauds. It’s all rather lovely. A glass of Muscato wine is waiting for me at dinner. It looks and smells like a Riesling but tastes very different, being much drier. However, like the Riesling, it’s a very agreeable digestif. I tell Farid I’ll add it to my list of favourite wines, which has now doubled. You’d think that, with an Evening Attire suggestion of Evening Chic, the highlight of Valentine’s Night would be a Valentine’s Ball, but there isn’t one. Go figure! After an anodyne offering in the theatre by the Production Cast dancers and singers, I join Marit at the Abba Sing-a-long in the Constellation Lounge. It’s wobbly tonight, and forward and high up in the crow’s nest is the worst location for a dance party, but who cares? The star of the show is Brian from the Philippines. Darling, he’s an absolutely fabulous activities host whose fluidity and fun is infectious - as I might be soon because a tickly throat indicates that a cold is probably imminent. Before turning in for the night, I pick up a gratuities sheet from Guest Services which tells me - $18 per person per day in a standard stateroom (which can be adjusted), shared as follows: Dining and Culinary - $10.81; Housekeeping - $5.19; and Other - $2.00 Thursday 15 Feb 2024 - Day 4 - Kusadasi (pronounced Ku-sha-da-se) My first view of Kusadasi (whose name means - Bird Island) is of the Pigeon Island fortress, first built by the Genoese in the 13th century and now connected to the mainland by a causeway. The all-aboard time is 9.30pm so there’s plenty of time to explore today. We’re docked by the upmarket Scala Nuova (shopping) village where an agent from Kropki Tour is offering excursions to Ephesus, an ancient harbour city that has shifted over time with the shifting shoreline, and where excavations have revealed many grand monuments. I pay 1526TL (£39.61) for the excursion, (it would have been slightly less if I’d paid in cash rather than by card) and we soon have enough to fill a minivan. After a scenic, 30-minute drive through the countryside we arrive at the House of the Virgin Mary - a place of pilgrimage where some believe she lived out her final years - then continue on to Ephesus a few kilometers away, driving through fertile valleys of fig, peach and olive trees. It’s sunny and temperate as we enter the legendary site through the Upper Gate. There is much to see: the Baths of Varius, the State Agora, the stone carving of the goddess Nike, Trajan’s Fountain, Hadrian’s Temple, the latrine and the brothel before arriving at the Library of Celsus, considered to be, like those of Alexandria and Pergamum, one of the great libraries of the ancient world. The Commercial Agora and the 25000-capacity Great Theatre conclude our excellent, unhurried 90-minute tour and we exit Ephesus at the Lower Gate. Our excursion continues with an unwanted visit to a leather factory where we are treated to a private fashion show with two of our group co-opted as models, and they sashay down the runway modelling leather jackets to the accompaniment of raucous applause and booming rock music. The last stop on our excursion is at the site of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World and where all that remains now is a single, forlorn column. Re-energised after a bite to eat onboard, I wander through the Grand Bazaar - the largest in Turkey after Istanbul although this modern bazaar is rather soulless by comparison. I find a store selling a huge array of embroidered zippered bags and buy several as they’re very useful for holding odds and ends such as loose change, first aid items, and electrical leads and plugs. On the street, I watch a game of backgammon (tavla in Turkish, I’m told) being played on a board beautifully decorated with wild horses, and am invited to play if I can wait until this first-to-five finishes. I have to decline because the light will fade soon and leave to take photos of the fortified caravanserai (inn and storehouse) and the waterfront sculptures. I should have a Turkish coffee before I leave and although there’s no baklava at the Patisserie Agora Firin Café there are other sweet delights such as appel kurabiya. How much? Only 50TL ($1.50)? For a coffee and an apple pastry? Apparently so. I have a cold so dine alone in the Trellis Restaurant where my waiter is Nabi from Kolkata who’s actually heard of Nilambur where I taught for a short while. Tonight's excellent vegetarian entrée is Toasted Israeli Couscous Cake - Asparagus Spears, Cherry Tomatoes, Zucchini Ribbons, Balsamic Vinaigrette which is so beautifully presented that I have to take a photo. You’d think that a Full Moon Party would be held under the stars, but it isn’t. Go figure! Simple line dances are taught and the floor is packed so the party is a success despite being held indoors. Friday 16 Feb 2024 - Day 5 - At Sea Today’s breakfast bakery special in the Oceanview Café is chocolate bread, sliced into doorsteps, and there’s plenty of available seating even on a sea day because the boat is only half full. How do I signal not to clear my table? A waiter tells me to tip my chair forward. I also put cutlery at 9.15 and a napkin on the back of my chair as per other cruise lines, just to emphasis the point. Sailing on calm waters watching Mediterranean islands and their whitewashed coastal villages slip by as you sip a soothing, Lemsip Max Cold & Flu… This is the life. A more energetic life was that of Arabic adventurer Freya Stark about whom I’m reading at the moment, having been inspired to so after a talk on my first solo cruise - from Egypt to India. Afterwards I watch the Golf Putting Challenge in the Martini Bar where Bill from Illinois looks a sure-fire winner with his score of only five from the first three holes, but defeat is snatched from the jaws of victory with a four at the last. At noon, the irrepressible Brian, ok, from the Philippines, ok, leads the poolside line dancing, ok, finishing with his favourite track, ok - Gangnam Style. Ok? He’s good, but he’s no Ed Balls. Time for some lunch - a very hot and very spicy Manchow mushroom soup which should clear my sinuses, and any other blockages. The musical duo in the Al Bacio café end their fine set with four-handed piano (Mozart, The Beatles and Astor Piazzola) to much deserved applause. Afterwards there’s the afternoon trivia quiz run by Alejandro from Mexico. It's only his fourth day with Celebrity and, it would appear, his fourth day learning English! It's illegal to sing whilst wearing a swimsuit in Florida? Who knew? I’m late for dinner, captivated by an amazing performance by the Martini Bar staff: thirteen cocktail glasses are ranged along the counter and, to cheers and applause from onlookers, are filled simultaneously from a tower of thirteen cocktail shakers. (This proved to be the best show I saw all cruise.) Afterwards, I listen to Brazilian Waves in the Rendezvous Lounge as a couple dance the same tango routine, replete with kicks, dips, hooks and lifts, to every track. Finally, I meet Yolanda, my cabin steward. She’s from Cusco and impressed that I’ve been there. She has one daughter and goes back home in five months, her day starts at 8am and she has 17 cabins to look after. An irresistible force draws me to the sure-to-be-dreadful Live Band Karaoke. Annabelle dedicates Besame Mucho to all her friends onboard (presumably, no longer after that performance), Peter's rendition of The Time of my Life wasn't, but redemption is ultimately at hand with Roger's version of Unchained Melody which fully deserved its wild applause. Saturday 17 Feb 2024 - Day 6 - Limassol Limmasol is a commercial port so a shuttle bus brings us to Syntagma Square in the heart of the old town. The square houses the Carob Museum (today hosting a diabetes conference), restaurants (most are closed for the winter) and Limassol Castle (now a museum surrounded by lemon trees and where, according to tradition, Richard the Lionheart married Berengaria of Navarre in 1191). It’s a warm, sunny day - perfect for a leisurely exploration of the old town, including the Agia Napa cathedral, through arcades and along alleyways, on one of which is the Nut Cracker House with an immense variety of nuts and dried fruits, and outside which is imprisoned a very large parrot in a very small cage. The morning’s meanderings give way to an afternoon’s ambling along the Molos - a picturesque promenade lined with palm trees that starts at the Old Port marina. It’s the location of the Sculpture Park with its twisting walkways, statues, water features and sundial, and Birth by local artist Maria Kyprianou - 96 colourful stone eggs which are a magnet for small children playing hide-and-seek. Captain Dimitrios welcomes us back and invites us to join him at The Liars' Club tonight at 10pm, but how can we be sure he'll be there, or that it’s starting at 10pm, or that it’s even happening at all? After another enjoyable dinner with my fellow solos, Ukebox - a quartet of ukulele players from Liverpool - is tonight’s headline act. It’s a poor show: a medley of 80s songs (or was it 80 songs? FFS, lads - pick two or three tracks and play them through instead of a bit of this and a bit of that) and comedy falling flat. Ah! The captain wasn’t lying, and it’s our job as the audience to guess the correct definition of obscure, rude-sounding words from those given by the captain, cruise director and comedian. It makes me think that there doesn't seem to be entertainment catering for Spanish speakers, unless they receive a copy of Celebrity Hoy containing activities tailored for them. Late night revellers at the optimistically-named Club Constellation Party are outnumbered by bar staff but it’s busy in the Rendezvous Lounge for the last musical session of the night from Brazilian Waves - the lead singer has a fine voice although she's hopeless at singing lyrics in English. Sunday 18 Feb 2024 - Day 7 - At Sea This morning’s bakery special is Raisin Rolls aka Chelsea buns. Why can’t I find them anymore in supermarkets back home? "Good morning. This is Captain Dimitrios. The time is 10am and this is your wake-up call. Our current position is latitude somewhere north and longitude somewhere east..." Foregoing the talk on “Heraklion Unveiled”, I chat with Miles in the cafe. He tells of his incident-packed ministerial visit to Brazzaville (travelling in a lawless country) during which a government minister asked for help getting his son back home from Canada. He managed to trace him and asked about his reticence to be in touch. "You've been to The Congo?" he asked Miles. "Yes." "So quit trying to ship me back home!" It’s a warm day in the Mediterranean so I give my knees an airing whilst relaxing on my balcony and reading more about Freya Stark before a buffet lunch where the skills of a contortionist are needed to reach food under low Perspex covers. I ask to be served with egg salad (with so much mayo you can't tell it's egg), potato salad (where you can just about discern the potato) and tomato (pronounced "toe-may-toe" so I’m understood). It’s time to check the answers from the final round of Scattergories, hosted by the irrepressible Brian - countries beginning with the letter S. "Are we considering Scotland as a country?" he asks. At the Live Music: Ballroom Dancing with The Infinity Orchestra, you’d think there’d be music for dancing, but there isn’t. It turns out to be a jazz session. Go figure! There’s nothing tempting from tonight’s menu. Ah, but the restaurant also has a separate vegetarian menu, our waiter tells me. None of us knew about that. After another enjoyable dinner, tonight’s featured entertainment in the theatre is Star Factory which is very old school but saved by glorious aerial acrobatics. The Totally 80s gameshow afterwards was silly but fun, but the subsequent 80s party was ruined by the sound system failing. Monday 19 Feb 2024 - Day 8 - Rhodes A day of blue skies and warm sunshine begins with a Bakery Special of Chocolate Babka and a beautiful breakfast backdrop of the medieval walls of the old town. There’s a Hop-On Hop-Off sightseeing bus opposite the port gate - a day ticket costs €15 so I hop on for a tour of the old and new towns. The 1-hour ride goes up to the acropolis and ancient stadium on Monte Smith, and the clifftop ocean road beyond with views across to Turkey, before descending to the statue of Diagoras (a famed Olympic boxing champion), past hotels and beaches, and then round to the Town Hall and back to the harbour. There are several gates to the old town including the Gate Of The Virgin where, appropriately enough, the barrier is down and there’s a No Entry sign. The old town is a 1000-year walk through time, through a labyrinth of winding streets with shuttered houses, ruined churches and bastions. The central point is Jewish Martyrs Square (dedicated to 1604 Jews of Rhodes and Kos who met their end in the extermination camps) with cafes and tourist shops around a charming seahorse fountain. I pick up a map from the tourist information office at the base of the Street of the Knights before exiting through the Arnauld Gate for an exploration of the moat, and the gardens around the city walls. A walkway at the Gate d’Amboise leads to the Palace of the Grand Master, originally a Byzantine fortress which later housed the administrative centre of the Order of Knights. It was destroyed in an explosion in 1856 caused by a lightning strike on a gunpowder magazine, and rebuilt by occupying Italian forces where it was used as a holiday home by Mussolini. The palace lies at the top of the Street of the Knights, much restored by the occupying Italians, housing inns of the tongues denoting the knights’ birthplace, each of whom was responsible for part of the fortifications. How many tongues? Eight, according to my tourist information map (Castile, Italy, Provence, England, Spain, Auverne, Germany and France) but seven, according to the UNESCO world heritage page at https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/493/, although it only actually lists five! There hasn’t been as much confusion of tongues since the Tower of Babel. Dozens of tractors are parked outside the town hall and I chat with protestors sitting in the shade of an arcade and drinking coffee. Their placards demand respect for traditional ways of farming, and protest a lack of political representation. Behind them, on the waterfront, is a winged statue dedicated to World War II fighters, a clock tower and, at the end of the pier, two columns topped with a stag and a doe (representing unique deer species found on the island) at the alleged site of the Colossus of Rhodes (the sun god Helios) that stood guard at the entrance to Mandaraki Harbour. An enjoyable visit ends with a performance by a folklore troupe by the pool, and kudos to them for making the dance steps fool-proof for the mandatory audience participation. There’s a message from Kelly, the cruise director - she's passed on my feedback to the orchestra about yesterday’s ballroom music that wasn’t. They're playing again this evening, same time same place, and they'll be playing a completely different set. And so it proves - a completely different jazz set! I take a few photos of the setting sun and the reddening sky before the first performance by tonight’s headline entertainer - Comedian Dave Kristian. I’ve heard it all before (as had Plato and Socrates, probably) but you can’t please all of the people all of the time and his set seems to go down well with everyone else. At 10pm in the Constellation Lounge there’s a packed 60s dance party, although I’m irritated by snippets of 60s classics being played rather than complete tracks - a Celebrity trait, it seems. Tuesday 20 Feb 2024 - Day 9 - Heraklion (Crete) It’s cool, cloudy and dry as I board the complimentary shuttle bus to the Venizelos statue (which, confusingly, isn’t in Venizelos Square), honouring the local statesman and former Greek Prime Minister. A day’s Ho-Ho ticket is €15 - buses stop round the corner from the statue - and there are 12 stops. It’s a half-hour drive out to the village of Knossos and the famous palace, passing sites such as the Venetian-built Koules Castle fortress, and the final resting place of Nikos Kazantzakis, the author of Zorba the Greek. An entry to the legendary, labyrinthine home of King Minos and the Minotaur is €8 and I spend an hour exploring the ruins, and the partial reconstruction by adventurer, spy and archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans, of the throne room, apartments, halls, shrines and frescoes. Back in town I make for the landmark Morosini Fountain, named for a Venetian Doge. It’s also known as the Lions Fountain, four of which (a symbol of Venetian power) support the main basin. In a corner of Lions Square (officially, Venizelos Square) on the pedestrianised August 25th Street (the date of a Turkish massacre in 1897) is the elegant, neoclassical-style Loggia - the Venetian-era city hall - and behind that is Agios Titus, the cathedral of the Archdiocese of Crete. Continuing down the street, I stop at the Treasures Art gift store to buy a tablet case embroidered with Cretan motifs of the eye of knowledge and waves of the sea. The gently sloping street ends opposite the causeway to the Koules fortress where I linger for a short while before heading back to the fountain, turning left along Daidalou and arriving back in good time for the last shuttle back to the ship. After half an hour steaming in the sauna (where there’s a little too much meat and two veg on show) and relaxing in the thalassotherapy pool, I join my fellow solos at our usual table 228 where Farid and Marit nearly come to blows in the US vs. Europe debate - the land of the free vs. the land of the (social care) freeloader. Jorge Lindan’s enjoyable set in the Rendezvous Lounge afterwards (including a terrific rendition of Chris Isaak's classic Wicked Game) is followed by a set from Brazilian Waves where the only dancing couple on the ship impress all with their tango routine - all that is except for one blasé passenger. The silent disco at 10pm in the Constellation Lounge is silly but fun. The children particularly love it, with three channels to choose from - each identified by a red, green or blue light on the headphones - and the dance floor is very busy. Wednesday 21 Feb 2024 - Day 10 - Nafplion According to Celebrity Today, which contains an insert about the tendering operations in both English and Spanish - the first concession to the considerable numbers of Spanish speakers on board that I’ve noticed - we’ve arrived at, “…a seaport town in the Peloponnese in Greece that has expanded up the hillsides near the north end of the Argolic Gulf. The beautiful old city has a wealth of narrow alleyways and streets…a lively seafront promenade and enough sights to fill a week.” It’s a 15-minute tender ride to the dock side, scenic even in the mist and drizzle, with the 15th century, Venetian-built Bourtzi Fortress that protects the harbor in the foreground and mountains all around. Taxi prices (70 Euros for Mycenae, 130 Euros for Mycenae and the Corinth Canal, 250 Euros for Ancient Olympia…) are reasonable for a group of four but not for a group of one so I’ll stay and explore locally. The visitgreece website tells me that Nafplio was the first capital of the newly born Greek state and that Frankish, Venetian and Turkish conquerors left their mark with ancient walls, medieval castles, monuments and statues, fountains and neoclassical buildings. A few steps inland, in a small plaza lined by palm trees, is a statue of Ioannis Kapodistrias, Modern Greece’s first head of state who was assassinated on the steps of the nearby church of St. Spyridon. A few yards away, at the foot of the hilltop fortresses of Palamidi and Acronauplia is a statue of Staikos Staikopoulos who captured Nafplio in the Greek War of Independence. Palamidi looks far too imposing for me, so I walk up a cobbled road where cacti cling to the hillside to the remnants of the peninsular fortress of Acronauplia. Looking across to Palamidi on my way back down, I see people walking along pathways to the top. A sign at the base of the steps states that the fortress is open until 15.30, a little over two hours’ time. If there are steps all the way then how hard can it be? Forty minutes later, after climbing over 900 of them, I have my breathless answer. The Venetian fortress (built in only three years - 1711-14? Incredible!) is well-preserved and there are more steps that need to be climbed to explore the chapel, cells and bastions. I have an hour and a half before the last tender back to the ship so I go searching for a cafe serving coffee and baklava whilst exploring the town, starting at the Square of the Three Admirals, named in honour of Admirals Codrington of England, de Rigny of France, and van Haiden of Russia (via Holland), who defeated the Turkish-Egyptian fleet at the Battle of Navarino in 1827. The town hall, the monument housing the remains of Greek independence fighter Dimitrios Ypsilantis, and the statue of Otto, the first king of Greece, are all located in the square. My (ultimately, unsuccessful) café search takes me along drizzle-washed, side streets looking lovely with potted plants set against the walls and balconies overflowing with flowers and foliage. The heart of the town is Syntagma Square around which are restaurants, the Archaeological Museum and two mosques: the Trianon which is now a cinema and cultural venue, and the Aga Pasha Mosque, now called Vouleftiko because the first Greek parliament (Vouli, in Greek) was housed in it. At dinner (minus Farid and Marit) where my inedible risotto was so al dente, I feared an imminent visit al dentist, Miles tells us he got separated from his excursion - having taken a long time using the facilities at Palmidi then taking a wrong turn out of the facilities, he ended up walking all the way down with dodgy knees. It took him an hour! Everything ok? asks the maitre'd on the way out. Well, it was disappointing that our Crepe Suzette wasn’t flambéed at the table, and last night’s Baked Alaska literally lacked the traditional sparkle. Apparently, such displays are no longer allowed. An anodyne Broadway Tribute show (apart from the graceful aerialist couple) is followed by a Late Night Adult Comedy set in the Constellation Lounge with Dave Kristian. It’s another routine dating from the ancient world (which wasn’t really ‘adult’) but it went down extremely well with all, particularly the bar staff! Thursday 22 Feb 2024 - Day 11 - Athens (Piraeus) It’s a cool, sunny day as I board a Ho-Ho shuttle bus to the Acropolis where we can change for a real Ho-Ho bus. A ticket costs €20 and is valid for 2 days - very useful if I miss my transfer bus to the airport tomorrow. It’s a 40-minute ride from the port, passing the Agios Nikolaos church with its striking portico, clock towers and blue domes; crossing over to the marina at Pasalimani bounded by palm trees and orange trees; then heading along the freeway past the FC Olympiakos stadium before a first glimpse of the Acropolis whilst crawling along in city traffic. The shuttle stop is between the Acropolis and the Hills of the Muses (aka the Hill of Philopappos - an aristocratic Greek of the Roman Empire who lived at the turn of the 2nd century) so I explore the latter first, walking along stone walkways and paths through the woods to the Soctrates Prison (part of the Diateichisma fortress built to protect the Athenians from the Macedonians), the 12th century chapel of Ayios Demetrios Loumbardiaris, and up to the start of the Deme of Koile (an ancient road and suburb through a ravine). There’s much more to explore of the hills, but I have much more to explore of the city, so head back towards the Acropolis where I see Anne puffing on a cigarette. I tell her I’ll be staying in Athens till late so won’t be dining at the solos’ table tonight. An entrance ticket is €10 and hollowed out of the hillside is the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a 5000-seat, semi-circular theatre built as a memorial to his wife and still used today. In the distance, atop the Hill of The Muses, is the mausoleum and monument to Philopappos. From the steps by the Monument to Agrippa leading up to the fortified Beule Gate, there are fine views down to the Temple of Hephaestus on the west side of the ancient Agora. The gate is the entrance to the Acropolis which thankfully, because it’s out of season, isn’t overrun with tourists. The incarnation visible today (the Propylaia ceremonial gateway, the Parthenon, and the Athena Nike and Erechtheion temples), was the vision of Pericles, a prominent Greek statesman of the 5th century BC. After an hour’s exploration of the legendary site it’s time to explore more of the city but it’s a long, long wait for a bus due to multiple demonstrations by beekeepers, students, teachers, nurses and lawyers. We hit a police roadblock approaching the Temple of Olympian Zeus so I get off the bus and improvise a plan B, finding myself close to the chic, touristy neighbourhood of Plaka at the foot of the Acropolis and which I could have reached within 10 minutes if I’d just walked it. Ah well! The Acropolis Museum and metro stop is to my left, the tourist information office is to my right and blocking my path are gypsy women trying to pin roses on me, and to whom I forcefully suggest they might pin them somewhere else. An all-day transport ticket is only €4.10 (good for both Athens and Piraeus) and I take the metro one stop to Syntagma Square, named for the constitution that King Otto was forced to grant after a popular uprising in 1843 against his Otto-cratic rule. Marble steps lead up to the Old Royal Palace opposite where the changing of the guard is taking place in front of The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier: two soldiers of the elite Evzones infantry unit, dressed in tasselled red caps, navy tunics, white hose and hobnail pom-pom shoes, march in slow motion between their guard huts under the watchful eye of a sneering, blue-capped officer in battle dress. A Ho-Ho bus approaches so I hop aboard to see more sights - the Olympic plaza, the National Library, Omonia Square and Hadrian’s Gate, busy Monastiraki (whose bazaar I’d explore if I had more time) and the National Garden before arriving back at Syntagma Square. The sun is beginning to set so I take the metro back to Akropoli where I wander through the narrow streets of Plaka looking for a café serving coffee and baklava, preferably on a rooftop terrace with views of the now-illuminated Parthenon. The little Café Plaka at the end of Tripodon (street) has the terrace, the views and the muddy coffee (served in a traditional briki), but not the baklava. Ah, well. The sullen girl serving me asks for a tip. I’m happy to oblige, and suggest an addition to the menu. Getting back to Piraeus is easy, but it’s a long, long walk from the start of the port area to the cruise ship terminal and gate E12. There are buses that go there, but I should have researched which and where from. Fri 23 Feb 2024 - Day 12 I leave a tip for Yolanda before heading up for breakfast where the scrambled eggs look like curdled yellow water and there's no Greek yogurt left. My number is called so I head for the lifts which, not surprisingly, are all full going down. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone waiting to get in a lift going up, and stay in it! At the airport I bump into Miles, waiting for the first of his flights to Edmonton. He tells me yesterday’s excursion, “Athens and the Temple of Poseidon”, included a meal at a village restaurant that was, for him, the best meal of the cruise. Well, I think I’ve seen enough ancient ruins for now. If I do feel the need to see more, I only have look in the mirror…

Ah. How nice to see that, post-Covid, you're travelling again, and posting again. This might be of interest if ever you're thinking of trying a British cruising experience -

This is the (overlong?) diary of a solo passenger’s 12-night, round-trip Iberian cruise from Southampton which may be of some interest to those contemplating a similar cruise. Saturday 09 December 2023 - Day 1 - Southampton Four middle-aged ladies are seated in front of me on a direct train from Manchester to Southampton. They’re going on a Xmas Markets cruise and discuss, at considerable length, the preparation of potatoes for Xmas dinner. Not surprisingly, in a group setting, one plays the part of the dominant male making the conversation more of a monologue...and she barely pauses for breath during the four-hour journey time. My first cruise aboard a P&O vessel is to be on the (almost) 20-year-old Arcadia, the second oldest and second smallest of the fleet, and my inside cabin is so far forward on deck 5 that it’s very nearly an outside cabin. What’s this? No queues at Reception stretching twice round the ship? And I don't even have to wait because one of the team approaches me to ask if they can help? My dining arrangements are explained - I'm on Freedom Dining which means I can eat at any time in the Meridian Restaurant’s lower level on Deck 2 or, of course, the Belvedere Restaurant’s buffet on Deck 9. I settle into a comfortable armchair by the Xmas tree to read my copy of Horizon, the daily, 4-page, what’s-on guide, whilst a brass quintet plays seasonal classics. No solos get-together is scheduled for this evening, although at 5pm there is an LGBTQRSTUVWXYZ... get-together. Would they let me attend if I was a dealer in trinkets and knick-knacks? I’d say I was buy-curios. The Belevdere is open so I head up for lemon drizzle cake and coffee. And how do I ensure my food isn’t taken away whilst I’m away from my table? A waiter tells me that cutlery set at quarter past or quarter to the hour, or both, should do the trick. At 5pm, whilst watching football in the comfortable Rising Sun pub, Captain Chris Bourne announces that: checks have been completed and we’re about to slip our moorings; the ship may heel as it makes 20-30 degree turns through the narrows; sea conditions may mean that the pilot can't be dropped off until after midnight at Brixham; and, wind speeds of 50 knots and 5-6 metre waves are expected tomorrow in the Bay of Biscay. What’s this? There’s a launderette on my deck (and above and below) with three washing machines and three driers - and they’re free to use? In the corridor, my cabin steward from Goa introduces himself. I listen to classical guitar in the Crow's Nest as we drift gently away with shore lights twinkling in the distance, then go for dinner an hour later in the Meridian. I’m happy to share a table and am seated at a table of eight as the wobbles begin in earnest. After my soup, I stagger the length of the ship back to my cabin to take an anti-wobble pill. On the way back, I pass the early evening quiz in the Spinnaker Bar where they’re going through the answers. Who wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Truth be told, I’d never have guessed the answer in a million years. Make that 007 million! My vegetarian mains of Courgette Noodles (Fresh Coconut, Chopped Brazil Nuts and a Soft Herb Emulsion) proves to be quite the talking point. I tentatively pick at the unattractive green slime I’ve been served and discover that it actually tastes fine. Fellow diners include a couple who like dancing (there’s ballroom and sequence dancing tonight at 9.30) and another couple on Deck 8 who tell me, “The more you pay the more you sway.” Tonight’s presentation in the 3-tier Palladium Theatre is On The Horizon. It’s a traditional, British cruise song and dance show which, like the ship, is very up and down, but kudos to the dancers from the ship’s company for coping with it. After the 45-minute set from Craig the Busker in the Rising Sun, I go for a late-night snack in the Belvedere (open till 1am, although tea and coffee are available 24/7) where wheelchair-bound guests have to get out of their chair to reach the tap and soap if they prefer to wash their hands rather than use the hand sanitiser. Sunday 10 December 2023 - Day 2 - At Sea This is my first cruise where the what’s-on guide doesn't include, restaurant, bar, shop and desk times but has to print these on a separate insert. I had little sleep last night with the constant creaking and groaning. It might have been the ship or it might have been me. On my way up to breakfast I tell my cabin steward not to bother making up the cabin - just empty the bins, please. I start the day with a coffee and a jam doughnut as the captain tells us the wind speed was 60 knots last night. It’s currently 30 knots and there’s a 3 metre swell, but that's expected to increase to 6 metres during the day. In preparation, I've already taken a second anti-wobble pill. A Solos Travellers Sea Day Get Together has been scheduled for 9.30am up in the Crow’s Nest. By the time I arrive there are already about thirty solos chatting in small groups, mostly elderly (not that I’m a spring (or even, summer) chicken) although there’s one, young, pretty Asian girl who, unsurprisingly, proves popular. The get-together isn’t really hosted: one of the staff introduces herself to tell us - same time, same place, every day. Tea and coffee is offered, and cruise prices are compared. I listen in and am not surprised to learn that better cabins at cheaper prices were obtained by those who booked later than me. The rest of the morning is spent at the crowded line dance lesson, the busy social foxtrot lesson and browsing in the shops. What’s this? No seasickness pills on sale? I’m told they’re available for free from Reception! And how does our shop assistant cope with the wobbles? When he first started he drank water and ate green apples whilst trying to look at the horizon. Pills were only required when sailing through the Drake Passage. After looking in on the well-stocked library on Deck 3 where the window seats are taken by jigsaw enthusiasts, I grab a quick lunch in the Belvedere before going to The Palladium for a lecture about Johnny Walker RN - The Scourge of the U-Boats. Tony Green may not be as charismatic a storyteller as Ben McIntyre (a guest speaker when I was last on the QM2), but he probably has better credentials, being an ex-Marine who served in Belfast and the Falklands War. It’s an eye-opening account of the most successful anti-submarine warfare commander during the Battle of the Atlantic, tragically worked to death, in July 1944 at the age of 48! The social foxtrot lesson part 2 then afternoon tea is followed by a standing-room-only Classical Recital with Jorge Carlo Mariani (tenor) and Varvara Tarasova (pianist) in The Globe at 5pm. It features a variety of genres including a Mexican shepherd's song which requires Jorge to switch between tenor and falsetto. At 5.30pm in the Spinnaker Bar there’s an individual quiz, i.e. no teams. I listen in having missed the start. Which US state is known as VA in the postal service? Apparently, the answer isn’t Vashington! I’m seated at the bar where one of the barmen mutters his answers. I suggest he might do so more quietly. A further suggestion follows from the captain: regarding the rough seas - passengers are advised, “… not to leave anything to roll around in your drawers in case it disturbs you in the night.” Thankfully, I’m sat at a more centrally-located table for tonight’s black tie dinner (I wear a dark suit) in the Meridian. I chat with an ex-policewoman who dreams of visiting a rhino sanctuary, and an NHS ambulance coordinator and preacher who lost his sense of taste during COVID. Tonight’s headline act in The Palladium is William Caulfield, “one of Ireland’s best loved comedians” apparently. Unfortunately, the lazy telling of interminable stories that I first heard decades ago means that I don’t have any love to give. I watch the dancing at the Gala Ball in The Globe because it’s too wobbly for me to even think of joining in. Late night, The Globe becomes the nightclub and tonight five people are in attendance, including the barmen and the DJ. Monday 11 December 2023 - Day 3 - At Sea I took half a sleeping aid last night after two mugs crashing to the cabin floor woke me up so, yes, we’re still bouncing through Biscay Bay. The captain tells us that we hit a couple of potholes last night (I felt them) and we're caught in between two swells: one from the southwest and one from the northwest but, as we round Cape Finisterre heading towards Lisbon, the swells will lessen. Large queues sometimes form at the poolside entrances to the buffet as there are only two wash basins which many, like me, prefer to hand sanitiser. After a coffee and a doughnut I take photos of the sea through one of the glass lifts then head for the solos get-together which is so busy it's spilled out of its designated corner in the Crow’s Nest. Our dance instructor at this morning’s cha-cha class is at pains to explain that her husband is her dance assistant and not a teacher. Maybe so, but he ought to notice that his partner for the lesson keeps placing her outside rather than inside leg forward for the New Yorker and hand-to-hand. On the way to lunch in the Belvedere, after listening in on the ship's choir who will probably put on a performance at the end of the cruise, others in the glass lift opine that the crossing of the Bay of Biscay has been the worst they've ever experienced. I have very tasty mushroom strudel, chickpea masala and rice, then go and listen to an interesting art gallery talk on Jack Vettriano and Fabian Perez given in The Globe. This afternoon’s naval lecture in The Palladium is entitled The Battle of Drobak Sound, where the German invasion of Norway was confounded by, “50 year old guns and 35 year old torpedoes in a 100 year old fort commanded by a 65 year old.” I’m also confounded - by the convoluted nature of the talk, so leave early for more strudel, chickpea masala and rice by a picture window looking out to a (now, relatively) calm sea. After a fine mid-afternoon classical concert ending with Nessun Dorma, a rather over-baked aria these days, I go for afternoon tea only to find that today's scones are rather under-baked. Afterwards, I relax in the quiet of the East Bar on Sky Deck 11 midships which affords fine views out to sea and also to the great rust holes in the vast, retractable roof covering the Lido Deck pool below. A busy early evening includes: the Singles Mingle in the East Bar, the individual quiz in The Rising Sun (the winner got 19 out of 20! I barely got half that!) and listening to cocktail pianist Hannah Gerendas’ 45-minute set in the Piano Bar. It's 70s night in The Globe with Pulse, the resident pop band, whilst tonight’s headline show in The Palladium is Killer Queen. It’s standing room only and I find myself next to the pretty Asian girl from the first solos get-together. Surely she’s too young to remember Queen? Maybe so, but she’s still a fan. During the cocktail pianist’s final set of the night she's unexpectedly joined by Chris from Pulse for her last song - My Girl. It’s impromptu excellence and a lot of fun. Tuesday 12 December 2023 - Day 4 - Lisbon The ship docks at 8am and my breakfast is to the accompaniment of non-stop coughing behind me. The day is cloudy but dry, and warm, and how nice it is to be able to walk in a straight line. The all-aboard time is 4.30pm so I’ll re-acquaint myself with the city rather than venture further afield. It feels good to be back on solid ground except, it isn’t - the earthquake of 1755 all but destroyed the city. A tourist information guy at the cruise terminal tells me I can get an all-day travel ticket at the nearby Santa Apolónia railway station where I buy an all-day travel card for €7.10 then take bus 728 (though any 7xx bus should be fine) to the Praca do Comercio. It’s only three or four stops to the grand plaza with its centrepiece equestrian statue of King José I, surrounded on three sides by native, neo-classical Pombaline architecture and looking out over the Tagus river. Ah, yes. I remember. I walk through the grand Rua Augusta Arch along the pedestrianised shopping street with its beautifully decorated paving tiles, passing almost irresistible pastelarias, to the historic, wrought-iron, Santa Justa elevator which transports users up to the square and historic buildings of Largo Do Carmo. The queue is too long so I continue on to the Praca Dos Restauradores which is where the ship’s shuttle (£4 each way) would be dropping passengers off. The Horizon quotes a journey time of approximately 45 minutes - that’s very approximate because it isn’t even half that. At the centre of the plaza, with its Xmas market and wavy paving tiles, is an obelisk commemorating Portugal’s independence from Spain. I backtrack towards the tram stop by Igreja Maria Madalena, on Rua Conceicao, passing the Bastardo Fish Bar which advertises itself as, “the illegitimate son of the portuguese cuisine” and the Armazens Do Chiado shopping centre which, conveniently, has conveniences on the top floor in the food court. I take the no. 28(E - electrico, i.e. tram. The no. 12 has a similar route) trundling up and down narrow twisting streets all the way to its terminus at Martim Moniz discovering that, from a tourism perspective, there isn’t really anything worth seeing after the (Largo Da) Graca stop with its pleasant-looking neighbourhood shops and cafes. On the return trip, I get off at one of the city’s famous viewpoints - the terraces and green spaces of the Miradouro de Santa Luzia which overlooks the historic Alfama district and the river. On the wall of the church, amongst the bougainvillea, are two blue-tiled panels: one shows downtown Lisbon before its destruction by the 1755 earthquake and the other shows crusaders storming the castle in 1147. The viewpoint of Miradouro das Portas do Sol is part of the same group of terraces - its name evokes one of the gates of the old city walls. Instead of waiting in the queue for the Santa Justa elevator, I decide to try and walk up instead. I pass the lift, turn up the hilly street behind it to a set of steps on the right a few yards further on (signposted to a left-luggage store), and less than five minutes later, walking up more steps and an incline, and passing a montage of witty tiles depicting Portugal in the 21st century, I'm at the ruined convent and Largo do Carmo just as it starts to rain. Fortunately, I have my folding umbrella. There’s no queue to use the elevator going down so I linger awhile taking in the views before descending, then walk to the tram stops back on Praca do Comercio. It's rainy and misty so I decide against going to Belem, 20 minutes away by tram and a little longer by bus, and stroll back along the riverfront to the cruise terminal - it’s only a 15-minute walk. Oh, dear! A red Bombeiros ambulance with flashing blue lights pulls alongside the ship, followed by a yellow emergency vehicle. A stretcher is wheeled aboard, cases and bags are offloaded and, soon after, so is a passenger. A tiebreaker question is needed for the individual quiz in the Spinnaker Bar, although I think the winner should have been the guy whose paper I was marking, for the following: Q. What do you call a baby goat? A. Steve. The captain tells us that a large container ship may delay our departure but; unfortunately, it's the requirement of a second ambulance that means we cast off only to re-dock shortly afterwards. By the time we cast off again the rain and mist have cleared so I can take some shots of Lisbon by night such as the Christ statue, the suspension bridge over the river, the Monument of the Discoveries, the disembarking of our pilot and Belem Tower. Fellow diners in the Meridian tonight include an officer working in Belmarsh Prison, and she has interesting tales to tell about hooch and hash. Wednesday 13 December 2023 - Day 5 - At Sea My morning comprises dance lessons and the lunchtime Battle of the Rising Sun quiz. I'm on the losing team despite answering three of the hard category questions: - What does the French word ‘ordinateur’ mean? - What does the Spanish word ‘postre’ mean? - Which two countries border Lake Titicaca? The last question brings back happy memories of an amazing month spent travelling in the region. Whilst enjoying a light buffet lunch of spinach and ricotta ravioli, I spy land on the starboard side. Africa? It must be, especially as Vodafone has sent me a welcome-to-Morocco text. I move across to the port side and Vodafone greets me with a welcome-to-Spain text. What is the white enclave on the African side? The Turkish restaurant officer I ask calls the bridge where he's told it's Tangier. I check my diaries: it's been almost exactly eleven years since I was in the casbah. As I gaze across to the Atlas Mountains, the tops of which are almost disappearing into the heavy low cloud, a call is made over the tannoy for the medical response team. The next announcement is happier. Dolphins! There are some on the Spanish side but many more are on the Moroccan side because, of course, Africa is warmer than Europe. I watch for an age, trying, with minimal success, to capture them on camera. I’m more successful later capturing a weather front with a thick blanket of grey cloud right across to the horizon on the African side and clear, blue skies on the European side. I’ve never seen anything like it. In the individual quiz in the Spinnaker Bar, my efforts to remember the capital of Columbia are interrupted with, "Attention ship's company! Attention ship's company. Hands to flying stations. Hands to flying stations." Anyone in aft cabins on decks 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 won’t be able to return to their cabins until the medical helicopter has completed its evacuation, and all decks are closed to those not involved in the operation. An hour later - 1) The helicopter operation has now completed - decks have reopened and the Belvedere restaurant is now open. 2) Due to extreme weather conditions - very strong winds - forecast for Cartagena tomorrow, the call to Cartagena has been cancelled. A berth has been secured in Málaga so we will head there and stay overnight. That’s disappointing - Cartagena was one of three new ports of call for me. Let’s hope it’ll be ok for Vigo and Cadiz. At the second Captain’s Gala Reception of the evening (he isn’t available so it’s just an unhosted drinks reception around the pool), there’s just one woman in attendance who shouldn't have been allowed to dress herself - she’s wearing a backless red dress laying bare folds of sagging, wrinkly flesh. Twenty years ago, perhaps... I’d like to eat in the Meridian tonight but there’s a 30-minute wait to join a table. We’re assured that everyone who receives a pager will be able to dine but I decide not to bother. After a quick bite in The Belvedere I look in on the Gala Ball in The Globe but it's very crowded. Let’s see what else is on. Ah, there's been a change to tonight's featured performance in The Palladium and, instead of Mr Tinkerton’s Clockwork Circus, we have our "comedian" from a couple of nights ago. On the plus side, it’s not as bad as two nights ago. On the minus side, it’s worse. Well, it’s been an unsuccessful night, but at least I’m still on the ship. Thursday 14 December 2023 - Day 6 - Malaga There are four juice stations in the Belvedere but only two are ever working, and you can generally expect a coffee machine and a hot water dispenser to be out of commission also. Hence, I have a 90-minute breakfast - mostly spent queueing at various stations and searching for a table. Afterwards, I chat with my cabin steward: he’s been with P&O for 28 years, looks after 20 cabins, and goes home to his wife and two children in January at the start of the world cruise and returns three months later. It’s sunny but cool as I board the complementary shuttle service running throughout the day between the ship and the entrance to the marina, passing the Dynasty superyacht (undergoing maintenance), restaurants, shops and a Xmas market. Across from the entrance is the tourist information office and next to the entrance is the bus station where a bus to the pretty coastal town of Nerja is due to leave shortly. A return ticket costs €9.41 and the comfortable journey takes 70 minutes. Now how do I get to the famously attractive promenade - the white-arched and tree-lined Balcon de Europa? As I only discovered later, by turning right at the first roundabout past the bus terminal, not the second! If there was a signpost to the Balcon, I missed it. Nerja is better out of season: warm, pretty and with relatively few tourists. I take in the views whilst listening to a busking guitarist then walk down some steps and along the decorated switchback path down to the beach and around the promontory, taking photos of a cormorant resting on a rocky ledge. After more wandering through the plaza and the adjacent backstreets it’s time to find my way back, and a stroll along Calle Pintada brings me to the small, tree-shaded Plaza Cantarero by the roundabout nearest the bus terminus which is where I should have turned down when I arrived. On the bus back to Malaga there's like three American girls like talking in their like loud, whiny like permanently-surprised way like ruining... well, not only the journey into like the setting sun, but also like the English like language. The first of the thrice-nightly Xmas sound and light shows on Calle Larios, Malaga’s main shopping street, is about to begin. Hundreds have turned out, and most join in with favourites such as Feliz Navidad and Hacia Belen Va Una Burra. It’s lovely. Had the call to Cartagena not been cancelled we might not have been able to see this. It’s curious that washing and/or sanitising hands is heavily encouraged in the Belvedere but not the Meridian restaurant. Are the menus wiped down after each use? Our dining table includes a solo originally from Romania who barely pauses for breath from the time the table fills until its clearing. Isn’t she supposed to be on the Xmas cruise? Tonight we do have Mr Tinkerton’s Clockwork Circus which I learn is a popular show put on by P&O’s theatre companies across the fleet. Afterwards, I’m in The Globe where Pulse are playing cheesy hits and one-hit wonders. There’s a bit of bar staff dancing, but not enough - the atmosphere is always much better when bar staff join in. Friday 15 December 2023 - Day 7 - Malaga I have a breakfast chatting with our Chinese solo who now lives in London. Unfortunately, her horse-riding excursion yesterday was cancelled, she failed to find an equine alternative locally and when she went to visit the Picasso museum instead, it was closed. She's hoping for a much better day today. I rest until noon then head out for an expedition on another warm-ish, sunny day - to find the coastal bus route between Benalmadena Costa and Malaga because the train that runs between Malaga and Fuengirola doesn’t follow the coast. The nearest train station to the ship, Malaga Centro Alameda, is a 10-minute walk from the port and a cleaning lady advises me not to bother with buying a return ticket from a machine - just tap in and tap out with a card. Services are cheap and frequent, and a single to Banalmadena - Arroyo de la Miel is only €2.70. Banalmadena Costa is a 25-minute walk downhill from the station to the tourist information office inside the terracotta Castillo Bil Bil on the beachfront. I’m given a handy wallet-sized printout showing buses and journey times from Benalmadena, including the bus to Málaga which stops at any of the stops along the sea front. The 50-minute ride (€1.70 - cash only), is mostly along the coast so it’s more picturesque than the train journey. Whilst exploring downtown Malaga, I come across the cake shop of my dreams - La tarta de la madre de Cris - which sells many varieties of cheesecake. Close by is the Pasaje de Chinitas whose eponymous, former café was immortalised in a song by Federico Garcia Lorca. The Picasso Museum is open today, but there’s no time to visit as the last shuttle is due to leave in a few minutes so I retrace my steps and bid farewell to Malaga by acknowledging the statue of El Cenachero, the traditional fish-seller who sold his wares from baskets carried through the streets. The captain announces that, with wind speeds for Gibraltar forecast to be far above the manoeuvrability for the ship, the itinerary for the next couple of days has been reversed - tomorrow our call will be to Cadiz and Sunday is now Gibraltar. Also, some may have noticed divers around the ship. They've been doing work on the hull that complies with New Zealand regulations - one of the countries to be visited during the upcoming world cruise. Two hours are required between completion of the work and sailing and, as they've only just finished, we'll sail at 8pm. It’s a Rhinestone Country evening with Pulse in The Globe tonight where line dances are taught to such Country & Western classics as You’re Sixteen by Ringo Starr and Blackpool Belle by The Houghton Weavers. Uh, oh! What’s this? "Attention! Attention! Crew alert! Crew alert! Crew alert! Smoke in the engine room!" All the staff rush off as do some passengers, either to don life jackets or to move to the head of the restaurant queues. A few minutes later, the captain from the (hopefully, not burning) bridge tells us that the auto fire suppression system has activated. CCTV indicates there is no fire but all crew are to be at fire alert stations. This is soon followed with, “The chief engineer is happy there is no smoke or fire. All ships company can stand down from crew alert. I say again - all ship's company can stand down from crew alert.” Curious. I'm sure I smelt smoke... Analiza Ching, Chinese Young Musician of the Year at age 12, is tonight’s headline act in The Palladium. She’s a rock violinist which means she wears glitz, does a few fancy dance steps and engages in extended head-banging all designed to distract from the fact that she’s an extremely talented musician whilst showcasing that she doesn’t know how to put a show together: she has a scattergun approach with a few bars of this and a few bars of that... I leave due to boredom. Saturday 16 December 2023 - Day 8 - Cadiz Can there be many more historically significant places in Europe than ancient Agadir? Founded by Hercules after travelling to the ends of the earth to complete his tenth labour (allegedly), site of the Visigothic defeat that opened up the Muslim conquest of Spain (possibly), departure point for Columbus’ second and fourth voyages (definitely)… The light is of such a clarity and intensity that the region’s name of Costa de la Luz is amply justified. The ship’s berth is right in town and it’s a perfect day for walking round the headland that bounds the historic quarter at the tip of the peninsula of Cadiz. I start at the neo-classical old customs house where orange trees line the pavements and which is fronted by a small garden of flowers and cypress trees with a tortoise fountain at its centre. Beyond is the Plaza de Espana with its centerpiece of a semi-circular monument with allegorical figures, built to honour the (first) constitution, of 1812, and ratified by the Cortes (national legislature) of Cadiz. The walk by the sea walls, with a diversion into the lush Plaza de Mina garden (named for a hero of the Peninsular War), brings me to the terracotta Baluarte de la Candelaria, a 17th century bastion that guards the entrance to the Bay of Cadiz. On its walls is a dedication to Blas de Lezo, a Spanish naval hero known as Mediohombre whose multiple war wounds left him with one eye, one hand and one leg, and who defeated the Royal Navy in 1741 at Cartegena de Indias, the jewel of the Spanish Main. The sea walk turns west to the Genoves Park, a botanical garden with winding topiary, palm trees, waterfall and grotto, and ending at the modernist Parador Nacional Atlántico with its glorious ocean views. A 5-minute walk inland brings me to the Plaza Fragela and the Gran Teatro Falla, built in a Moorish-revival style and (re)named for the Cadiz-born composer. Back on the seafront is the fortress of Santa Catalina and at the other end of the horseshoe-shaped beach is the former island fortress of San Sebastian, now connected to the mainland by a levee. The body of water between the two fortresses must be rich in marine life judging by the number of small fishing boats in and out of the water. Inland is the Plaza de la Libertad and the central market, dating from 1837. Sellers are closing up in the central covered area but the open air eateries that surround it are very busy with seafood lovers. Nearby is the historic watchtower of Torre Tavira and, after a couple of wrong turns, I arrive at the cathedral, and the Xmas market in the plaza. At one corner are plaques honouring the fallen of Trafalgar and at the opposite corner is the Arco de la Rosa - the archway was a gate into the medieval, walled quarter. Down the alleyway, I chance upon the archaeological site of the Roman Theatre. My exploration finishes at the Plaza de San Juan de Dios with its shops, bars and restaurants, dominated by the neoclassical town hall and with the grand statue of a celebrated son, the 19th century writer and politician Segismundo Moret, at its centre. Fellow diners in the Meridian include aft cabin evacuees from three nights ago. Conversation also includes praise for the relatively new Ambassador Cruise Line, battlefield tours and the Nantes mechanical elephant. The rest of the evening is spent drifting amongst various musical venues whilst sleep is aided by low volume music from the TV bridge cam channel. Sunday 17 December 2023 - Day 9 - Gibraltar Happily the winds have died down and we’ve been able to dock at Gibraltar. It’s a clear day with a layer of cloud perfectly balanced atop Jebel Musa across the straits. I’ve visited several times so a wander in the sunshine, despite the cool weather, will do just fine. Inside the terminal building there’s a useful map that includes bus routes to some of the main sights. Outside, the rust-ridden bow of the Arcadia, particularly around the anchor, complements the rust-ridden port fencing which is where the local taxi service is offering a shuttle to the Grand Casemate Gates for £3 single / £4 return. It’s only a 15-20 minute walk but, as it’s rather windy, I opt for the taxi service. The bus timetables by the gates show me there’s just enough time before the next no. 2 to Europa Point to walk through the square, along Main Street, see that the tourist information office by the Parliament building is closed, and get back. A return journey is £2.50 and it’s a scenic ride, past Orange, Left and South Bastions, and the Botanic Gardens and cable car, to the most southerly point on mainland Europe (or perhaps that’s Tarifa). I spend half an hour battling strong winds looking at the main sights such as: the lighthouse, the mosque, Harding’s Battery, the memorial to General Sikorski and, towering over everything, the Rock itself, before returning to the Casemate Gates where a walk along the length of Main Street brings me to Trafalgar Cemetery, opposite the South Bastion and the statue of Nelson. Only two victims of the battle are actually buried at the cemetery which contains many more graves of those who fell during other conflicts such as the earlier Battle of Algeciras. Back on board, the captain tells us that Azipod thrusters have been used during the day to keep the ship secure but, after the ropes are let loose, he'll let the wind blow the ship away from the berth. At the sad sailaway party without live music, a couple from last night’s dinner show me a video of the Nantes mechanical elephant. Ah, so that’s what it looks like. And you can also ride in it? In the Individual Quiz in the Spinnaker Bar, my friendly-neighbourhood barman proves to be no help whatsoever. Surely, on his travels, he must have picked up useful nuggets of information such as where Postman Pat makes his deliveries or which Teletubby carries a red handbag. Even more irritating is his habit of muttering (as I later learn) the wrong answer - Olympus Mons is a mountain on Mars not Jupiter. Well, he sounded so sure… It’s time to swap papers to mark the answers. Mine is headed “Luke & Carolyn” which leads me to think some in the room haven’t grasped the concept of “individual”! Out on Promenade Deck 3 I try and capture the orange glow of an ocean sunset, but I’m thwarted as a TORM tanker crosses in front of the sun just as it dips below the horizon. A plaque states that “3 laps equals 1 mile” so the total length of my evening stroll would be about… one third of a mile. Tonight’s dinner table talk is dominated by a Durham couple - a conversation would barely start before the husband jumped in with, "I'll tell you a story about...", willingly abetted by his wife. Tonight’s headline act is not The Four Harps, as advertised, but Brian Connolly Jr. He’s the son of the blond, lead vocalist from the 70s glam-rock band Sweet and he puts on an excellent tribute show. He tells us that his dad was the only one not to sing the high notes in the classic Blockbuster, and it’s impressive that the Arcadia musicians provide such superb backing with only an hour's rehearsal. After midnight, in the lobby by Reception, I spy creative Xmas crafting - the pastry team are applying finishing touches to a snow-covered, gingerbread village, complete with functioning clockwork railway. One of the team tells me it's taken two weeks to create, and she looks justifiably proud as she takes photos of her team's handiwork. Monday 18 December 2023 - Day 10 - At Sea After several circuits of the Belvedere on a calm Atlantic morning, I find a small table which I stock with: coffee and juice (first trip), doughnut and peach smoothie (second trip), granola, seeds and plain yoghurt (third trip) and scrambled eggs, beans, fried potatoes and toast (fourth trip). Returning to the gingerbread village I hear a passenger say to his wife, “Where are the roads?” I resist explaining the implications of being “snow-covered”. A board tells us that 11 chefs worked 1013 hours using 350 kilos of icing sugar, 850 kilos of eggs, 161 kilos of golden syrup, 201 kilos of muscovado sugar and 15.5 kilos of ginger powder. What’s this? No flour? No fat? After the classical recital it’s time to get ready for the last gala night of the cruise, after which is a Gala Ball. The Bollywood dance lesson proves extremely popular and the dance floor is… Well, I was going to say - standing room only. Tuesday 19 December 2023 - Day 11 - Vigo It’s ironic that Spain's largest fishing port is populated exclusively by vigans! By the time I disembark, the rain has stopped and the sky is clearing. The A Laxe shopping centre opposite the cruise terminal has fine views across the harbour to the mountains around the bay from its upper floors (and free WiFi) and beyond the shopping centre is a striking sculpture by Francisco Leiro - El Banista Del Arenal. I haven’t been able to discover what the broken bronze bather might mean. Across the road is the tourist information office where places of interest are marked for me on a map, including my ultimate destination of the hilltop fortress of Castelo Do Castro, and the steep climb through the old town starts immediately behind the tourist office. I walk through the market of Praza da Pedra, past the Galician House of Culture, and the Basilica of Santa Maria in Praza Do Constitucion and, more by accident than design, I find an of escalator, part of Vertical Vigo designed to reconnect neighbourhoods, which takes me part of the way up to the fortress. I turn left up Granada and arrive at the base of Parque Do Castro but there’s still some climbing to do up steps and along pathways before I reach the fortress ruins with its marvellous views. It was built in the 17th century to protect this part of Galicia from potential attacks by English forces and, at the entrance, there is a memorial stone to 136 victims of pro-Franco forces between 1936 and 1942. Descending via a different path I come across O Castro de Vigo - archaeological remains and a recreation of a Neolithic settlement comprising living quarters, a pantry and a granary around a central patio. I take a different route down to the port, turning right down Rua da Ronda de Don Bosco. At the intersection with Rua Do Principe, there’s a statue to Manuel Castro, a newspaper seller who used to balance newspapers on his forefinger, although someone seems to have stolen his paper. Outside the adjacent contemporary art museum, a green-faced, green-haired Father Xmas waves to passers-by. Back down on the promenade, in front of the yacht club, there is a statute to Jules Verne, sitting on a sea monster. A plaque states that the author, “… mentioned the Bay of Vigo … in one of the episodes of his book 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” Our busker provides the live music at the sailaway party in the cool sunshine aft on Deck 9 as a seagull hitches a lift out of port on one of the balcony rails below. The captain tells us that pre-navigational checks have been successfully completed so we'll shortly be under way, turn through 180⁰ and head out through the Vigo Channel. We should keep ahead of expected bad weather in the Bay of Biscay so our journey back should be calmer than our journey out. Tonight, many passengers are wearing Xmas gear - bobble hats and garish jumpers. It all looks rather jolly. Uh, oh! What’s this? The captain puts out a call for anyone with blood group O+ or O- who has their donor card with them and is willing to donate to a critically ill person on board. My fellow Meridian diners all have at least 100 shares in Carnival earning various cruise rewards, having paid wildly differing prices per share. I also learn from them about touring West Indian cricket stadia - just knock on the door. I wish I’d thought of that when I was stood outside the Kensington Oval. Pulse’s second set in The Globe is followed by the Xmas jumper competition. There were about 20 splendid entries but I got bored with each one having to shout out “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Xmas!” and show us their moves. Wednesday 20 December 2023 - Day 12 - At Sea Well, maybe it isn’t as bad (yet) as on the way out, but this little old tug is still bobbing about all over the place. My breakfast gets taken away (not for the first time) by the waiters despite my cutlery setting. Ah well, there must be a staggering amount of food wasted on a cruise ship anyway. During breakfast part 2 there’s a ship-wide announcement for the medical response team to deck 11. "Someone else dying," I hear from an adjacent table. At 12.15 it’s the final Battle of the Rising Sun and there are extra points on offer today so there’s a small chance we can claw back some of the large deficit built up during the cruise. Rather than half and half, the pub split is more one third / two thirds, and our one third is generally only one third full whereas the opposing two thirds is at least two thirds full. We win today's battle, but lose the war. There’s a guest announcement after the quiz - "Due to unforeseen circumstances, this afternoon's Clarendon lecture on The Life and Works of Alice Laurie has been cancelled." It may have been her South African accent... Last night’s cancelled performance of Deck The Halls plays to a standing-room-only enthusiastic Palladium audience who are in the mood for Xmas jollity. The final classical concert later features a lovely surprise - a duet featuring our tenor and our pianist who is also a fine soprano. (The excellent guest pianist is the bridge instructor!) They sing Caro elisir sei mio / Esulti pur la barbara from Act 1 of Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore as Nemorino, our lovesick hero, drinks a quack’s love potion, and Adina, the object of his affections, reacts to his posturing. I pack, have a dinner of broccoli soup and bread in the Belvedere then go to watch the misnamed Four Harps in The Palladium - they’re just average singers and therefore a plucking disappointment. The real highlight of tonight’s entertainment proves to be Matthew, one of the entertainment staff, guesting at the end of Pulse's second set with some fine, head-banging Metallica mayhem. The night ends listening to the easy-listening duo in the Crow's Nest where it's calmer, so we must have exited, or almost exited, the Bay of Biscay. I haven’t left my bags out, preferring to have as late a breakfast as possible tomorrow and disembark at my leisure… Thursday 21 December 2023 - Day 13 - Southampton … relaxing in the Piano Bar rather than standing in a non-moving queue of hundreds waiting to disembark.

Might this help to inform you? https://boards.cruisecritic.co.uk/topic/2974640-oh-cinders-you-shall-go-to-the-ball…-an-ncl-getaway-diary/

This is the diary of a solo passenger’s 11-night, early-autumn, (over-hyphenated,) round-trip cruise along the west coast of mainland Europe, from Germany to Spain. It may be of interest to those contemplating a similar cruise. Note: Names may have been changed to protect the guilty... Sunday October 01 2023 - Day 1 - Southampton It’s a 15-minute suitcase-wheeling walk (including a 5-minute wait to cross the busy West Quay Road just before the entrance to Dock Gate 10) under cool, grey skies to the Horizon Terminal - the closest terminal to the train station - where the almost 10-year-old, 18-deck Norwegian Getaway with its almost 4000-passenger capacity waits serenely. There’s no reason for me to drop off my case because there are no queues this late in the day, just an odd straggler or two like me. After picking up a couple of complimentary magazines, I board the ship and head up to my inside cabin which is clean and well-appointed and is certainly roomy enough for one although it has four beds: two (folded) up and two down. On the dressing table is a card entitling me to a 50% discount on one bag of laundry because I’m a Gold member - in NCL’s Latitudes Rewards scheme, I hasten to add. From forward on deck 13, I head for the Garden Café buffet, backward on deck 15, to the accompaniment of non-stop announcements concerning shoe treads, environmental matters, lifeboat info, the safety video and electronic devices… “In case of emergency, please follow the erections of the crew.” What? “Ladies and German, the lifeboat drill is now completed.” What?? Our departure will be delayed by about an hour because provisions and luggage are still being loaded but the sailaway party still goes ahead at 5pm, poolside on deck 15. There are a few hardy souls in the swimming pool, others are dancing along with some of the cruise staff and most, like me, watch on, enjoying the DJ’s selection. There are about 75 solos in the Bliss Lounge - a far bigger crowd than usual, we’re told - for the Solo Travelers [sic] Social at 6pm where PJ from South Africa declares himself to be “super excited” to act as our host for the cruise. From tomorrow there will be daily meets at 5pm, usually in the same location, and the Tropicana restaurant has daily reservations for solo diners at 5.30pm if some of us wish to eat as a group. I get chatted up by a mildly tipsy American lady travelling with a couple of girlfriends from club 80-130 whilst another coos, “Oh! I could listen to you talk all day.” After the cruise she has two days in Westminster before a transatlantic cruise to finish her 32-day holiday. Westminster? In the heart of London? Ah, she means Winchester - King Arthur rather than King Charles (although Charles is an Arthur, as well as a Philip and a George). The Getaway may be newer and much bigger than the Dawn which I sailed on a few months ago, but the Atrium is far less grand and the Bliss Lounge is far smaller. Just like the Dawn; however, the queue at Guest Services is so long that I can’t see the end of it. There’s also a significant queue outside the Tropicana restaurant and I'm sure it'll be more than the estimated 15 minutes before I'm paged for my table for one…and it was. 16 minutes! To my right are seven solos from the earlier get-together, on the table in front is a guy whose hips and buttocks spill over the sides of his dining chair, and to my left are two ladies of a certain age, from Orlando, who kindly invite me to join them, and a solo Smoggie (geographically distinct from Geordies and Mackems) who arrives a few minutes later. Tonight’s entertainment in the Getaway Theater comprises two elements guaranteeing my non-attendance, “Magician” and “Audience Participation”. I’d rather stay and chat with my fellow diners. I have apple pie for dessert which, as usual, is bland. Won’t somebody please introduce the Bramley apple to NCL HQ? After a little unpacking, I listen to Velvet Duo playing Latin music in Sugarcane, a small bar on Deck 8 that attracts passing trade, until the Getaway Welcome Bash at 10pm in the overcrowded Bliss Lounge. I drift away to the Headliners Comedy Club showcasing Howl at the Moon Duelling Pianos. They're very talented, particularly with their clever musical riffs. All this entertainment has given me an appetite, and I retrieve two slices of pound cake and raisin cookies that are about to be cleared away from the tucked-away, for-solos-only Studio Lounge - a small, quiet space spread over decks 10 and 11 with a TV and a hot drinks station. The last act of a busy but enjoyable day is to move my watch forward one hour. Monday October 02 2023 - Day 2 - At sea The Garden Café has washing facilities, manned sanitiser sprayers and dispensers, and musical staff adapting the words of well-known pop songs extolling the virtues of washing and sanitising, so kudos to NCL for their efforts. A day at sea means the buffet is very crowded and, as I make several circuits of the cafe looking for somewhere to sit, I ask about the meaning of the coloured sidebars (red, brown and green) on the food labels. There’s staff confusion about the answer and I’m advised to ask for clarification from Maureen, the food and drink manager. A small window table right at the back of the Garden Cafe with views out to a calm sea and a cloudy sky offers a relaxing way to enjoy breakfast, after which, during a post-prandial stroll in the unexpected warmth and sunshine, the captain gives the traditional noonday navigational update...at 10.45! There’s a bachata dance class in the Bliss Lounge which is an excellent opportunity for socialising. Afterwards, a couple tries desperately to reprise the basic steps (side-together-side-tap) and I spend a few minutes helping them. One deck down, the Atrium is packed for Visual Trivia: Beers of the World. Being alcoholically ignorant I expect to get 0 out of 20 but my expectations are dashed - I recognize one and correctly guess two others. Afterwards, there’s a pitch for Deal or No Deal which follows the quiz. $29 for 2 cards up to $59 for 5 cards? No deal! Lunch is coconut fish (I’m guessing that it’s tilapia), vegetable rice and chips by a starboard-side picture window in the Garden Cafe with the engine thrum providing an unexpected but not unpleasant vibratory buttock massage whilst a passenger to my left coughs incessantly. Afterwards, I meet my cabin steward. Pre-Covid he looked after 16 cabins; now it's 22. We arrive in Hamburg tomorrow so the ship has thoughtfully arranged a language class...in Portuguese. Warum? Wir gehen nicht einmal nach Portugal! Still, I learn that 'd' at the beginning of a word is pronounced as a soft 'g', and 't' after a vowel is pronounced as a 'ch', at least in Brazil. Afterwards, at the booking office outside the theatre, I book two shows: Burn the Floor for tonight and Million Dollar Quartet for a week tomorrow (bookings aren’t needed for any other shows). The ticket is attached to my room card and if it hasn't been scanned ten minutes before the start, my booking is released to a standby queue. At 5pm it’s the solos get-together where I chat with an equine aficionado from Salt Lake City who's booked an excursion to Schwerin Schloss for tomorrow. Exploration of the fairy-tale castle sounds like an excellent excursion, but $199 is too much for me. With waiting times varying between 25 and 45 minutes at the Tropicana, Savour and Taste restaurants, I opt for the more open-plan environment and excessive vibrations of the Garden Cafe before tonight’s theatre show - Burn The Floor. “Feel the percussive rhythm of the Samba, the sizzling Cuban beats of Salsa, and the flirtatious pulse of the Rumba. Yesterday’s dance with today’s attitude…” It seems that today’s attitude is to look the part but dance generically. For instance, the samba section contained no discernable samba content: no basic forward and backs, no whisks, no samba walks, no voltas, no botafogos, no cortajackas… An enjoyable show but lazy choreography. Late Night Music with DJ Ricii in the busy Bliss Lounge ends the night’s entertainment. As usual I pick up a copy of tomorrow’s Freestyle Daily from Guest Services - I always carry a folded copy with me whilst the room copy is preserved (although I don’t really know why) as a souvenir - after which a stashed-away muffin with a cup of tea in the Garden Café ends the day on the calm North Sea. Tuesday 03 October 2023 - Day 3 - Hamburg It’s a grey, dry, mild day - perfect weather for exploring, if the weather holds. This isn't my first time in Hamburg so I have no plans apart from possibly enjoying coffee and kasekuchen. (In the UK, sadly, dolloping sweet cheese on a biscuit base apparently constitutes a cheesecake. Oh, dear!) At breakfast, an American passenger educates me about grits. She takes hers with salt and pepper. I'm persuaded to try some, but dressed up differently: grits on one side of a bowl, oatmeal on the other, a little hot milk, a sprinkling of raisins, a shake of brown sugar and a dusting of cinnamon. Delicious! I chat with one of the Filipino waiters: he's 39 but looks 19, has two children aged sixteen and four, his wife works in IT and he’ll be back home in April for two months. He tells me to tip the chair forward to indicate "don't clear the table". I'll try that. My table affords clear views across to the wave-like Elbphilharmonie concert hall and the clock tower of the St. Michaelis church and, an hour later, the sun bursts through the clouds. We have an overnight stay here so perhaps I might venture out of the city today. We’re at the Steinwerder terminal which is a long way from the city centre. The ship isn’t offering a shuttle service to the city - the closest is a Hamburg-On-Your-Own option: four hours (so, just three in the city) for $69. There is an immense queue for taxis of which there are few about, so the only other options are to find the nearest bus stop about a kilometer away or use an independent shuttle service that is curiously offering one-way trips only, for 15 euro. I opt for the latter and suggest to the other passengers that a note of polite dissatisfaction be expressed to the ship and head office. Today is a national holiday - Tag Der Deutschen Einheit. It’s 33 years since Germany’s reunification and I manage to dredge up my schoolboy German to chat a little with the driver who thinks there won’t be any public buses available because of a city marathon. Was he born in the east or the west? “Jugoslavein, also ost ost.” As regards cheesecake, he suggests Cafe Muller, the fourth street on the left, he thinks, walking towards the town hall from our drop-off point at the bus station. Diagonally opposite is the train station where I chat to a fellow passenger, Sharon, from California via Taiwan, who’s trying to decide what to do today. A HoHo bus is waiting at the station stop and, as this is her first time in Hamburg, I advise her to take the tour, which she does. After a delicious pretzel from the Backwerk bakery and a chat in the tourist information office, both in the train station, I decide that, as it’s grey and drizzly, I won’t venture further afield but will see what Einheit activities are happening in town, and set off along the car-free Monckebergstrasse towards the town hall about half a mile away. The road is lined with performance stages, information booths and food stalls, there’s a carnival atmosphere despite the weather, and my ambling is punctuated by musical incongruities: a marching band playing Soul Limbo (the theme tune to BBC’s Test Match Special), an accordionist singing The Wild Rover in German, and Die Blow Boys singing traditional sea shanties. All together now, “…Let your hearts never fail / For the bonny ship, the Diamond’s gone / Fishing for the whale.” At the crowded market square, fronting the magnificent, neo-Renaissance Rathaus, there are giant marquees hosting music, talks and exhibitions. The main entertainment stage is beyond the adjacent, colonnaded Alster arcade (where the cafes, disappointingly, are only offering American-style cheesecake) on the Binnenalster lakefront where I listen to the live music until I think I should start to head back, whilst it’s still light. I fail to find a Café Muller but do catch more sea shanties from Die Blow Boys on de way to de train station where I'm fortunate to immediately find other passengers, an elderly couple from Atlanta who have just finished their private city tour, with whom to share a taxi back to the ship (the fare was 29 euro). I drift in and out of the various musical entertainments on offer, ending up in the Bliss Lounge which is packed as usual, and where I meet other, younger, solos: Lorna from the US and Joe from Canada, and chat and dance with Kayla, a pretty girl with shoulder-length curls, from southern California. Later, I catch the end of the late night movie, Elvis, playing on the giant screen in the Atrium. It's hard to believe it's been nearly 50 years… My neighbour tells me he saw him close-up at a concert in Pittsburgh just a few weeks before, and he looked bad. Wednesday 04 October 2023 - Day 4 - Hamburg Some, like Kayla, have taken the (oxymoronic?) explore-on-your-own excursion on this sunny, breezy morning but I’ll stay around the port area as we sail at 1pm. Next to the cruise terminal building there’s a ferry landing but there isn't a timetable posted up so I don’t know if it’s a way of getting across to Hafencity, a short walk from the city hall. I exit the port area to see if I can find a bus stop nearby (for future reference). I can't, but I'd only walked for 10 minutes and was advised yesterday that the nearest stop would be twice as far. The weather continues to be fine so there's excellent sailaway viewing along the Elbe at the back of the ship, at Spice H2O on deck 16 where there are hot tubs and an outdoor cinema. There’s also fine viewing from the back of the Garden Café where the desserts seem a tad unimaginative with mainly mousse or pound cake variations, but perhaps I should be exercising some self-restraint anyway (the only exercise I seem to do these days). Shamefully, I join in the second of the two ’70s line dances that are taught in the Atrium - Stayin' Alive. Even more shamefully, I enjoyed it as did the dozens of others who joined in. Afterwards, I discover where the small, unadvertised library is - it doubles as the Card Room, off to one side of the Atrium. Ah. Maureen has left a message on my cabin phone to contact her. We meet up and she clarifies what the food label colour bars mean: red - meat, orange - dairy, green - vegetarian. She’ll make sure that all staff are aware of this and also that a chair tipped forward means that the place should not be cleared (it usually works, but not always). A little laundry hand wash (there are no self-service launderettes on board) then an excellent show in Illusionarium - Broadway Unplugged. The quality of musical entertainment has advanced a lot since I started cruising over 20 years ago. Afterwards, there’s bachata music in an almost-empty Headliners - a bad location for this as there’s little passing trade - followed by easy listening to the curiously named Stick 2 One duo at the Sugarcane bar. The night ends with a little dancing in the Bliss Lounge and, at last, I can tell we're at sea because there's a pronounced wobble as we sail down towards Amsterdam. Thursday 05 October 2023 - Day 5 - Amsterdam I have breakfast with Sharon during which there’s an announcement from the bridge. Neither of us can make out what the captain is saying but, fortunately, the cruise director repeats it: due to sea conditions last night, we’ll arrive half an hour late and stay in Amsterdam half an hour longer. Clearance comes a few minutes after 11am and, unsurprisingly, the queue to get off the ship is immense. I have better things to do than wait in a non-moving line such as watching England v New Zealand, the opening match of the Cricket World Cup, in o'Sheehans. It’s a balmy, sunny day as I disembark and head in the general direction of Centraal Station. Ahead of me is Tom, a blind, solo cruiser from Florida. I offer to walk with him across to the old town and, apart from one misdirection using an imaginary clock face, my guiding is ok. He can make out blurred shapes and colours and, as we reach the (inner) Singel canal which borders the medieval city (not to be confused, but probably often is, with the (outer) Singelgracht which borders the modern city) he says he’ll be fine to wander by himself and to make his own way back to the ship. Nearby is a red, City Sightseeing Hop-On Hop-Off boat parked by a dock looking across to the city landmark and minor basilica of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of the city. A day ticket is 27.50 euro and the next boat departs in five minutes, at 2.45. That’ll do for me. Our first stop is actually at the cruise terminal so I get a close-up view of my floating home with its vibrantly-coloured, pop-art hull crafted by graphic artist Lebo (David Le Batard) comprising sinuous curves in blues and greens, and warm reds and oranges, and featuring a mermaid at the bow. We’re a little ahead of time with few passengers getting on or off our boat so, after the Cassan Diamonds stop, we make a detour to see the crooked, dancing houses on the Damrak canal. Why are they crooked? Because they’re built on soft ground, our skipper tells us. One of the houses is a hotel - sleep on the left side and wake up on the right side. He also tells us that thousands of bikes are stolen every year in the city, many of which are dumped in the canal, and can often be bought back from the flea market at Waterlooplein, our next stop. The waterways are busy as onwards we cruise along the Amstel river and past the very grand Amstel Hotel (well worth a look in, if I had the time) before rejoining the concentric ring of canals. The next stop is the Rijksmeseum which lies on the Singelgracht, about a mile and a half from Centraal Station. I don’t have a ticket but I’m content to relax in the museum garden, in the warm sunshine, watching visitors trying to judge the right moment to enter the Hide and Seek surprise fountain - and not all succeed. It’s a short walk to the popular square that is Leidseplein after which I stroll through the nearby Vondelpark (named for a statue of the 17th century writer, not for any alleged nocturnal activities) before boarding another red boat, disembarking at the starting point rather than the cruise terminal because no more boats are heading out today. Velvet Duo are back in their more natural home of Sugarcane this evening and, during their final set, all the Spanish speakers join in with a wonderfully heartfelt rendition of Juan Gabriel’s Se Me Olvido Otra Vez. What luck! A plate of left-over raisin cookies on a tray by a cabin door! I take some to have with my midnight chai. I must find out when and where they are available. Friday 06 October 2023 - Day 6 - Bruges We're docked at Zeebrugge and the ship's Bruges-On-Your-Own excursion is $99 whilst an independent all-day shuttle service offered at the terminal is 25 euro which, at today’s exchange rate, is… a lot less. It's a 10-minute walk in warm sunshine from the red, iron bridge across from the shuttle stop (the same stop is used by the ship’s excursions) around the edge of a pretty lake (a local out walking his dog tells me it’s called Minnewater - the lake of love) to the gatekeeper's lodge and the start of medieval Bruges, passing waddling ducks and geese, a hurdy-gurdy man, horse-drawn carriages and a statue to local man of letters, Maurits Sabbe. The beautiful, old streets and alleys are lined with chocolate and waffle houses, and many enchanted visitors. Crossing a canal bridge I see a landing stage below where it’s 12 euro for a 30-minute boat tour through the winding waterways of the old town. Our personable pilot starts by suggesting we take a tour afterwards of a nearby brewery - tastings are offered and by the time we've finished we'll be speaking every language on the multilingual tour except our own. All boat tours offer the same scenic viewing of sites such as: the Beguinage (a tranquil lay and religious convent); the 800-year-old St. John’s Hospital; the Groeningemuseum (displaying six centuries of Belgian art); the medieval tower of the Belfort; churches and alms houses; and mansions and stepped gables; and our guide’s well-practiced patter is very informative. Left at the St. Boniface Bridge, keep walking for 3-4 minutes and I’ll arrive at the Markt, a local tells me. The vast, picture-postcard square surrounded by Gothic-style buildings looks glorious in the sunshine. It’s dominated by the Belfort, as Longfellow describes it - In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town. I should join the mass of visitors taking in the view and the atmosphere from one of the many pavement cafes beneath stepped-gabled facades but, as Longfellow (again) describes it - Hours had passed away like minutes; and before I was aware, Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined square. Might my stay in beautiful Bruges be longer than anticipated? It’s 3.30 and there’s no sign of the last shuttle back to port. There are over thirty of us waiting… and waiting. Fortunately, a fellow passenger with more wherewithal than I calls the shuttle company and learns that the already-nearly-full bus is waiting round the corner. Go figure. We’re packed in, in conditions that would have sardines protesting, but the traffic is surprisingly free-flowing for a Friday afternoon and the chaos and near mayhem of finding and boarding the bus has the most prosaic of conclusions - we're back at the terminal at the all-aboard time. In the Garden Cafe I’m enjoying Tunisian orange cake and a cup of chai tea (more relaxing than tai chi, in my opinion) as we pull away from the quayside. Lorna passes by and stops for a chat about her enjoyable day in Bruges. She used to be a carriage driver and was pleased to report the health of the horses to be fine. At the 7pm Self-Led Sabbath Service (kudos to NCL for setting up a room with prayer books, juice, wine and two plaited loaves) it was mentioned that there's matzo ball soup this evening. Really? So there is...and it tastes good. The Salsa Dance Class with (the cast of) Burn The Floor in the Atrium at 9.45 is followed by a packed Latin Fiesta Caliente where there are loud cheers for a Japanese gentleman - a late-evening regular in the Bliss Lounge - for his wildly gyrating hips and unique, no-foot-movement dance style. One of the crew has a fixed smile on her face as she is pulled hither and thither by an enthusiastic passenger around the dance floor and she can’t hide the alarm on her face when I subsequently ask her for a dance. She soon relaxes as I take her through a leisurely merengue. The evening finishes, as usual, in the Bliss Lounge. Tomorrow, Joe is taking a shore excursion to Paris - a long coach ride away but, as this is his first trip to Europe, it has to be done. Saturday 07 October 2023 - Day 7 - Le Havre Where have all the cornflakes gone? There have been none available in the Garden Café for several days. According to a certain consulting detective, "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth". The inescapable conclusion must therefore be - there’s a cereal killer on board. Shore excursions to Paris and Normandy had early starts so by 9am there are plenty of tables available in the Garden Café and, from the ship’s berth, there’s a pleasing view of Le Havre’s waterfront: the photographic observatory and the twin arches of the multi-coloured art installation, Catene de Containers. Rather than a 40-minte walk into town, I opt for the (independent) shuttle bus for seven euro to Place Perret, across from City Hall and right by Le Volcan, the city’s premier cultural venue. My original intention was to re-visit the pretty town of Honfleur on the other side of the Seine, but a map I picked up at the terminal shows that other nearby towns and villages are worth considering, such as Harfleur. Even better, a chat with driver reveals that my ticket is actually valid for 24 hours for all buses and trams in Le Havre, including the frequent C2 bus to Harfleur - and the stop is across the road from Place Perret. I miss the first bus - the driver fails to pull in at the stop and my belated signal is met with a Gallic shrug. No matter - it’s less than a half-hour ride to the terminus at Harfleur, the principal seaport in northwest France before the development of Le Havre. The quaint and quiet old town, dominated by the Gothic spire of the 14th-century church of St. Martins overlooking timber-framed houses, bars and cafes, is semi-pedestrianised (i.e. pedestrians have priority) and very pleasant to wander around. A 16th-century chateau across from the old town serves as the town hall and the small park at the back is perfect for a picnic. A wrong turn heading back to the bus stop brings me to a petanque field by the river where I watch a fearsomely skilled foursomes game to its conclusion in sweltering heat. By 3.30 I'm back in Le Havre and exploring the extensive flea market stretching along both sides of the Rue De Paris, from the Volcan to the esplanade. Clothes, kitchen equipment, records, books, cigarette boxes, glassware, toys, food... The variety is astonishing. I wonder how much stuff I missed by only walking down one side of the road. 50%, probably. Sharon joins me at the shuttle stop and, as we wait for the last bus at six o’clock, she shows me two small bric-a-brac she's just bought: a pretty, blue vase for 2 euro and a wrought iron (dinner) bell for 4 euro. She walked into town this morning, bought some bric-a-brac, walked back to the ship, had lunch and then walked back into town. She'd originally planned to take the shore excursion to Honfleur but decided it was too expensive at $109. My eyes hurt from a cold that came on this lunchtime, and a cetirizine tablet helps with the sinus pain and runny nose. After a bite to eat I need a lie down - a day in the warm sunshine plus my cold has exhausted me. "Code Alpha. Deck 7. Tropicana!" Oh, dear. A medical emergency. I hope there's a happy ending. After resting for about an hour I go in search of raisin cookies as the dinner buffet is closing. There are none, but an assistant maitre d' tells me they're put out between 3.30 and 5pm and offers to have some sent to my room. She calls the kitchen. "How many would you like?" she asks me. "Three?" "Make it four," she tells the kitchen. "No charge." I go back to my cabin. The phone rings. "Sir. We have no raisin cookies left. Would you like chocolate cookies?" "No thanks." I'll find them tomorrow - it’s a sea day. After a late-night promenade around deck 8 aft where I discover fine, expansive, outdoor seating areas with stylish wicker garden furniture (how much more is there to discover on this ship?), I wander through the casino and spy a food station containing sandwiches, and cookies. What a find! Apart from my cold, it’s been a fine day on the Prime Meridian. Sunday 08 October 2023 - Day 8 - At Sea The phone rings at 6.55. "Sir. Your raisin cookies are ready. Shall I bring them to you?" What? What??!! WHAT?!?!?!?! "Yes, thank you," I reply in a deliberately neutral voice, and five minutes later they are delivered. I arrive for breakfast at 10am, and so it appears have half the passengers. I have scrambled egg with a perfect toasted muffin - slightly sour, dusted with semolina and with an open texture. The Atrium is packed for the 11am event - How To Run A Floating Hotel Q&A - where a British woman berates senior offices: this is her first time with NCL and never has she been on a cruise that doesn't offer slimline tonic! I feel her pain. After the subsequent Boleros Dance Class (no - me neither) in the Bliss Lounge I chat with an Indonesian couple who tell me that yesterday’s delayed departure was because two hundred independent passengers were stranded in Paris due to a rockfall on the railway line - the ship arranged for taxis to bring them back to Le Havre. There's a cocktail party in the Tropicana Restaurant for NCL's frequent flyers. I don’t participate because of my cold which thankfully hasn’t worsened but, as the party thins out, I settle myself at a corner table well away from everybody. I’m about to leave but Lorna comes over for a chat. With alcoholic drink in hand, she's in a happy state but wisely keeps her distance. She tells me there are five stages of inebriation but, disappointingly, can only recall three of them. There's further disappointment when she tells me she's tipsy after the first drink, horny after the second and sleepy after the third - and she's already more than halfway through her third. She's wearing one of the three blouses she bought at the flea market yesterday for a throwaway price. It’s pretty. A long conversation with Orlando, the Shorex manager, reveals the rationale behind the offering of a terminal-to-town shuttle service: if the nearest town is the port of call, e.g. Hamburg, then an on-your-own shore excursion is offered; if not, e.g. Getxco, then a shuttle is offered. Ultimately, head office makes the decision. Unlike this morning's classic British bake, this afternoon's classic is a disappointment - the scones are underbaked. The Bay of Biscay is very calm with just the gentlest of swells and in the distance, port side, I think I can make out land, unless the underwhelming scone is causing me to hallucinate. The Abba Music Fest in the packed Atrium is a huge success and afterwards, towards the end of the Late Night Latin set in Sugarcane, I dance with Kayla (she went on the Normandy beaches excursion yesterday and found it informative and moving), and then also in the Bliss Lounge. Monday 09 October 2023 - Day 9 - Bordeaux (ish) We've docked at Le Verdon, wherever that is. At first glance it appears to be a quayside with a gantry and a very large shed. A second glance, on the ship’s $20 shuttle service into Soulac sur Mer, reveals World War II gun emplacements and a watchtower. Le Verdon may advertise itself as Bordeaux Port, but Bordeaux is over 80 km away. It may also tentatively advertise itself as a cruise port but, at the moment, it has zero facilities. On the plus side, the shed does have potential. After a 15-minute drive through flat countryside, the shuttle brings us to a plaza by the ominously sounding, medieval basilica of Our Lady Of The End Of The World. A tourist guide marks the route to the beach on a map and she recommends I head for the Arros rocks further north along the coast where there are crashing waves. Soulac is a lovely, little seaside town and the helpfully-named main drag of Rue de la Plage is lined with small cafes, bars, restaurants, souvenir shops, bookshops and boutiques. Inside the main market, the foie gras stall is doing a roaring trade with Asian customers. At the end of the road, the clean, expansive beach slopes gently down to the surf of the Bay of Biscay. I'm very overdressed - it's shorts and sandals’ weather. Heading towards the rocks, there is a small replica of the Statue of Liberty, dedicated to Gilbert du Motier, marquis of La Fayette, the French commander of the Continental Army at the decisive Battle of Yorktown. His last views of France, as he sailed down the Gironde on his way to the United States, were probably of the Medoc coast and possibly even Soulac itself. The sun is fierce, I didn’t bring a sunhat and there’s little shade until the forest at the edge of town which is where German forces on the Medoc Front surrendered on the 19th April 1945. After resting awhile, I cross to the beach and the mildly crashing waves of Les Arros before heading back to town. It’s been an excellent day following Bing Crosby’s advice - being Busy Doing Nothing. At 7pm the ropes are lifted, we pull away from the dock and are treated to a photogenic, burnt-orange sunset. After dinner in the Garden Café where coughing is much in evidence it’s time to head for tonight’s Glow (House) Party at H2O which is a winner - the weather is fine, the sea is calm, the drinks are flowing, the music is loud and people are up and dancing. Actually, it’s just two of the crew who are dancing, on stage, and everyone else waves a glow stick in their direction whilst manically jumping up and down. The intricate moves of this modern dance style are too complex for me. Tuesday 10 October 2023 - Day 10 - Bilbao I’ve woken up with several bites on my arms, and I have overheard an occasional conversation about bed bugs. According to the Freestyle Daily, Bilbao will be basque-ing in 86 degree-heat today. I really should have packed my sunhat, and short-sleeved shirts, and sandals, and suntan lotion, and swimming trunks, and… We’re docked at Getxo, a few miles from Bilbao, with the cranes and gantries of a busy port in one direction and beaches backed by houses of the old town and mansions of the new town in the other direction. Today’s plan is… Well, there isn’t one, apart from seeing some highlights of Bilbao and leaving time to explore Getxo. The ship offers a shuttle service for $20 to Neguri, one of the local stops on the Bilbao metro system, but I’ll walk. Lorna is in the terminal building and looks splendid with her explorer hat. We arrange to make our way to Bilbao together, but by the time I’ve finished chatting in Spanish with one of the girls at the tourist information desk about places to see (the Guggenheim Museum, the old town…) and used the facilities, she’s disappeared. I don’t blame her: anybody would be irritated by my dithering (though usually serendipitous) style of touring. With help from a topless pensioner out for his morning constitutional who insists on accompanying me, I arrive at the Gobela metro stop where a station assistant helps me buy a metro ticket - a single costs 1.90 euro. Trains are frequent and I’m soon on my way to the Moyua stop with its beautiful, eponymous, elliptical garden plaza and fountain centrepiece. From there, it’s a short walk to the Guggenheim Museum on the banks of the Bilbao river. Spanish cities are beautifully laid out with their wide avenues, plazas, whitewashed churches, and grand buildings from the Romanesque to the modern which provide welcome shade from the heat of the sun in a cloudless sky. As I walk along Iparraguirre, the titanium and glass curves of the deconstructed Guggenheim Museum become clearer but even before crossing over to the museum plaza, (perhaps) the world’s largest flower puppy (a West Highland terrier) and the Salve bridge with its great red arch catch the eye. Because of the heat I have just a short riverside walk along the Paseo Uribitarte in the general direction of the old town, pausing awhile to admire the monstrous, 9-meter spider (a motif of sculptor Louise Bourgeois) balancing on slender, cage-like legs, and the four women of Las Sirgueras which pays tribute to the rope girls who towed vessels along the estuary. The tram is a much quicker, and cooler, way of getting to the old town once I manage, with the help of locals at the tram stop, to extract a ticket from the self-service machine (my back card wasn’t accepted but I managed to find 1.50 euro in coins), and then have to make a short, manic dash back because I forgot to validate the ticket. Well, it’s another opportunity to give my Spanish a good workout. I get off the tram at the Ribera arcades and wander through the Casco Viejo with its narrow, pedestrianised streets and flower-bedecked balconies, plane trees and fountains, tourist shops and bars and, at its centre, Santiago Cathedral. I could happily spend a few days here, exploring the city sights and finding the perfect pintxos. Back at Plaza Moyua I have a short rest (I believe the technical term is - comfort break) in the 5-star Carlton Hotel which, according to a plaque outside, was, “from October 1936 till June 1937 the seat of the Basque Government”, before taking a train back to Getxo, getting off at Neguri rather than Gobela so I can walk down through the narrow streets of the old fishing port which dates back at least to the 1500s. Up on the sea wall locals are casting lines for their supper. I say “locals” but they could just as easily be the ship’s kitchen staff restocking with tilapia. Million Dollar Quartet is a fabulous, foot-tapping show, which is as much about the legendary founder of Sun records as his famous protégés. The only mild disappointment was that it clashed with the Ocean Music Fest in the Atrium where all the musicians “merge their talents on one stage”. (I went to a similar event on the Dawn a few months ago and if it was even half as good as that, it must have been a great party.) Wednesday 11 October 2023 - Day 11 - At sea Having slept in the adjacent bed last night, I am happy to report that no more bites were evident. Before leaving the cabin, I show my appreciation to my cabin steward by leaving him some negotiable financial instruments in an envelope then head for breakfast, braving the girls stationed outside the Mandara Spa daring you to walk past them without popping in for a wallet-busting treatment. At the 11am Technical Presentation and Q&A in the theatre, I learn that: anchors can be used as an emergency brake in the event of a power failure; fuel tanks can hold 2 and a half weeks supply; ships are refurbished at least every 5 years - more often if an older ship; weather and traffic make the Bay of Biscay one of the most difficult seas in the world; and, the chief engineer is very happy when he leaves home for his next tour of duty, and so is his wife! Afterwards I do a little packing and a little reading followed by a little lunch which includes a new food experience - fried yucca. Drat! I’ve missed the poolside Miss Biceps Competition” (Note - the exclamation mark was ironic.) At 3.45 in the Atrium there’s a Forro Dance Class (no, me neither) followed by Riddle Me This Game which draws a large audience. I’m hopeless at riddles but manage to get at least one right: I see a boat full of people and when I look again, I can't see a single person on the boat. All together now (spoiler alert!): because they're all married. At dinner in the Garden Café, where coughing is very prevalent, I spot a dining foursome: “Are you the Million Dollar Quartet?” “Yes.” “I just wanted to say, to misquote a lyric from the show, “I ain’t seen a show like that since / I don’t know when.” Johnny Cash feels moved to get up and shake me warmly by the hand, and Carl, Jerry and Elvis all seem genuinely touched and give me multiple thank-yous as I leave them in peace. Whilst relaxing in one of the wicker seats outside on deck 8, I chat with one of the bar staff. He’s from Trullijo in Peru, this is his first season with NCL and his hours are about 10am - 11pm. Back home, his wife looks after their 6-year-old boy and runs their grocery store. Tonight, at 10pm, in Syd Norman’s, it’s Rock The Prom where we will be taken back “to the glory days of High School. Dance to iconic songs from the 70’s and 80’s…” When Lorna told me earlier that she never went to her high school prom - she didn’t have a date even though she was on the organising committee - I asked her to be my date for tonight. Syd’s is packed out and we have to squeeze ourselves against a wall to see the stage. The only sour note was during the performers’ stories of prom night failures which included one about overdosing at the chocolate fountain with the inevitable gastro-intestinal consequences. As the Prom Queen is invited to start the dancing, I lead Lorna on to the floor and we have a very enjoyable slow dance... Thursday 12 October 2023 - Day 12 - Southampton Having not put out my case last night I can enjoy breakfast and disembark at relative leisure, and reflect on an almost-perfect cruise. If only the ship offered slimline tonic…

My (overlong?) post about a recent cruise on the Dawn entitled, "A Voyage Around My Father...land (on NCL Dawn)" appears just above your post.

Hello gg, Thanks. I wondered if there was a way for my reply to appear directly under the question to which it related, rathet than just tagged on after the last comment.

I can't see how I can reply to an individual's question so... Dear surfone, I should have taken some Euros with me, but I forgot. I therefore used a credit card whilst in Ireland. Regards J

This is the diary of a solo passenger’s 10-night springtime cruise around the UK and Ireland aboard the Norwegian Dawn. After 20-something cruises, and none since the pandemic, the opportunity to see my home islands from a new perspective has proved irresistible. These days the Dawn is probably considered a mid-sized ship even though she can carry almost as many passengers as the Queen Mary II. It may be of interest to those contemplating a similar cruise… Sunday 14 May 2023 - Southampton The 68 bus from Euston Station to Waterloo Station across the river is an easier and more scenic option than dragging a case through the Underground (and perhaps even quicker) and my train to Southampton is running to schedule. From there, it’s a relatively easy, 15-minute, suitcase-wheeling walk past the police station and along Southern Road to Dock Gate 10 and the Horizon Terminal where the Norwegian Dawn is waiting in bright sunshine. I drop off my suitcase outside the terminal prior to a quick check-in (I didn’t need to download an app or print off documentation or labels - just show my passport and give my booking reference) then, with keycard in hand, I go off to find my inside cabin on Deck 10 where fine, pencil artwork of world-famous buildings such as St. Peter's Basilica lines the corridors. My cabin is roomy and clean with a decent-sized bathroom comprising shower, sink and toilet. Initial impressions of my home for the next ten days are good. With my copy of the Freestyle Daily newsletter in hand, I set off in search of something to eat to the accompaniment of incessant, repetitive announcements which rapidly become background noise and are barely comprehensible in public spaces. After locating my assembly station and attending the safety drill I head off to the Garden Café on Deck 12 where there won’t be any playing chicken with the automatic doors leading to the pool area because they don’t open until a couple of seconds after you actually reach them. 24-hour hot and cold drinks are available from the café but the buffet isn’t open yet. (According to the Freestyle Daily, it closed at 3.30pm and will re-open at 5pm.) However, the poolside burger bar has banana and vanilla loaf cake which, with a cup of tea, will be fine for the moment. I now face a common problem on cruise ships - how to indicate that I haven’t finished with my cutlery and crockery. Holland America? That’s a napkin on the chair back. Cunard? That’s two pieces of cutlery set at quarter to three, or a single piece at quarter past three. Alternatively, carry around a sheet of paper on which is written “Please do NOT clear this ~#£$&?* table!!!” I’ll experiment with the cutlery option. At 6pm there’s a Solo Travellers Meet in The Cellars wine bar where an enthusiastic social host a third of our age acts as facilitator. Whilst one of our number, a domineering American woman, tries to organise numbers for a meal tonight in the Venetian Dining Room (A table for ten? For tonight? She’ll be lucky, but our facilitator will try), I corner the host before he can call the Maitre d’ and get him to explain “Freestyle”. There really isn’t anything to explain: there’s no assigned dining so you eat where you want when you want, assuming there’s room, or eat in the Garden Café. I go and search out some of the various restaurants which are all very busy, seem rather claustrophobic and have long queues outside. No, thanks. In the (very) Grand Atrium spanning decks 7 to 10, there’s live Latin music from Soul Solution playing the first of their two 45-minute sets this evening with people dancing up at o'Sheehans (i.e. oceans) Bar and Grill on deck 8 which overlooks the atrium. I go up to the Garden Café and enjoy various delicious breads with onion soup, looking out of the large picture windows across the calm waters of the Solent and afterwards, from the vast selection set across several stations, I take some grilled mahi mahi, rice and vegetables, and also two slices of banana cake to be saved for later as it’s after eight o’clock and tonight’s single-performance show has already started. The large Stardust Theatre spans decks 6 and 7 forward and on stage is Kircaldy’s own Glenn Owen McNamara from The Rat Pack - Swinging At The Sands. He’s good, very good, and I don’t even care much for swing and the big band sound. Classics outside the Rat Pack repertoire include Mona Lisa which, amazingly, was originally a B-side. There’s also excellent backing from the Norwegian Dawn’s showband (I hesitate calling a 7-piece outfit, no matter how talented, an “orchestra”). After looking in on the quiet Welcome Aboard party in the Bliss Lounge on Deck 7 aft I find things much livelier in Gatsby’s bar where vocalist Devin Provenzano from New York, accompanying himself on the guitar, sings crowd favourites such as Delilah, 500 Miles and The Fields of Athenrye. I feel compelled to try something from the late night menu at o'Sheehans and plump for the apple pie and ice cream. Disappointingly, there’s far too much apple to pie and the apple is bland instead of being Bramley sharp. After tea after midnight in the Garden Café, I check with Guest Services (where the queues stretching twice round the ship and back to Southampton have finally disappeared) the amount of the service charge - it’s $20 per person per day. Ouch! The ship is steady as I head for bed at 00.45am and notice the time on my phone has gone back one hour. I’ll have to set the time zone manually. Monday 15 May - At Sea The cabin seems quiet - no creaks from any fittings and no noise from neighbouring cabins. I get up at 9am to see what a day at sea holds in store. The tip of the day in the Freestyle Daily is very useful: “Trying to find the front of the ship? Look at the floor & follow the fish, they always swim forward.” The front page also explains that, “With no set dining times and no seat assignments, you can dine on your time and not on a schedule.” As a solo passenger, I’d prefer a schedule - being seated with other solo diners, not all of whom would necessarily be at the daily meet. Unsurprisingly, it’s busy up in the Garden Café but eventually I find a table for two with views out to a calm, misty North Sea, aptly named because we're at sea and sailing north. A couple of middle-aged Americans sit at the next table, shouting at each other in what presumably passes for normal conversation across the pond. An elderly English lady joins them and asks in a barely discernible voice where they're from. "Oh, I'm from Noo Jersey, but my grandmother was from Scaaaatland," screams the larger of the two women, in a voice that could be heard in her ancestral home. I move away to a table by the picture windows where the engine vibration gives me a complimentary massage of the kind usually only experienced in establishments of dubious repute - allegedly. During breakfast, waiters repeatedly (and irritatingly) try and take my used plates and cups away when I’m still using them. At 11 o’clock in the Grand Atrium there’s a Port [sic] of Call trivia quiz. I watch on. St James’ brewery made Guinness? Well, you live and learn. Nearby, an elderly Portuguese woman speaks her text message and WhatsApp types it out! Well, you live and learn. At noon it’s the captain's update: 326 nautical miles to Newhaven where tomorrow's forecast is for sunny skies. Barometric pressure, sea temperature, wave height…. The usual rigmarole. It’s followed by the cruise director’s what's-happening announcement which includes misuse of the article. Further misuse follows when she announces that, due to technical difficulties in the Stardust Theatre, Deal Or No Deal this afternoon is cancelled but will be happening, "in the coming future days." Perhaps Isha, with her unexpectedly free time, could avail herself of a grammar book, if such is to be found in the small library which I locate beyond the open air pool. My eyes alight on How Not To Die by Michael Greger. Are the secrets of immortality within my grasp - just as soon as the library book checkout re-opens at 3pm? Sadly not. A closer look reveals the tome to be the rather more prosaic “How Not To Diet”; advice seemingly taken up with gusto judging by the size of many of my fellow passengers. The Garden Cafe offers two soups for lunch but, disappointingly, neither is vegetarian - after checking with one of the chefs, I learn that a chicken stock was used for both. Perhaps I should have checked last night before having the onion soup. I suggest to the restaurant manager that the food labels need amending with a "v" to indicate vegetarian. Domenica says she'll take it up with the food and beverage manager. At the 70s Party Line Dance Class at 1.45, classics such asYMCA and the Electric Slide are taught. It’s an opportunity to socialize as a solo passenger but the small dance floor in the Bliss Lounge is packed to overflowing so I watch on as do many others. After listening to live music in the Atrium I return to the lounge for the quiz an hour later, scoring a lowly 12 out of 20 in my team of one. Fancy forgetting two of the four Hogwarts houses - the two that rhyme: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw! I chat with my cabin steward. He has 23 cabins to clean - a mix of inside and balcony - and is one of a team of 58, down from the pre-pandemic level of 120, which is why there's no turndown service in the evening. His day starts at 8am and finishes at 6pm. A light snack follows in the Garden Café, looking beyond a group of 10 sociable Portuguese speakers, making far less noise across their two tables than this morning's American annoyance, to a calm sea shimmering in the sunshine. It looks so inviting that I go for a stroll round the pool deck and the upper decks, still trying to get my bearings. I don’t bother with the 5pm Solo Travelers Meet, preferring to look down at the small space that is Gatsby's which is packed for Latin Bland (an unfortunate typo) with passengers up and dancing. Isn’t there a more romantic setting than the theatre toilet to tell someone, “I love you”? “Love you too,” says the guy’s partner as he’s about to use the facilities, but she didn't sound like she meant it. After watching some of the aerial acrobatics provided by a young Ukranian couple, I return to the Garden Café for a cup of tea and a couple of slices of the extremely more-ish cinnamon raisin bread prior to listening to an enjoyable, 45-minute Country/Americana set from Devin in the Grand Atrium. I wonder how many songs he has in his repertoire. Tuesday 16 May - Newhaven (Edinburgh) We've anchored offshore, in the Firth of Forth, with fine views to the island of Inchkeith and the Forth Bridges. There’s a text from my dentist to remind me about Thursday’s appointment. Oops. I try and rearrange it but a shouty American woman deafening a poolside bartender makes my phone call impossible. I search for a less noisy environment. The vibrations on the starboard side of the Garden Café are very uncomfortable so I move over to the port side where all is calm, and watch the tenders running between the ship and the dock. During breakfast, the over-enthusiastic staff clear my plates three times whilst I’m picking up items from the buffet despite my cutlery setting. The maître d’ tells me afterwards that cutlery set at quarter to three should prevent unwanted clearances! He’ll remind the waiters. I step aboard a tender and chat to three of the showband - a trombone player from Cooperstown, NY, and guitarists from in and around Buenos Aires. They tell me that one evening they’ll play a set for ballroom dancers. I’d like to see that - maybe I’ll find someone to dance with. They’ve visited Edinburgh several times with the ship (the UK and Ireland itinerary is sailed frequently during the summer) and on today’s visit they’re hoping to find some music stores. I tell them about my latest musical discovery, gleaned from yesterday’s trivia quiz - the Japanese word that means “empty orchestra”. Twenty-five minutes of gentle bobbing along brings us to Newhaven’s harbour with its lighthouse and fish market where it certainly isn’t the forecast “Sunny, 73ºF” - it's grey and cool, but at least it’s dry. I’m on bus 16 by noon and buy an all-day ticket for £5. I’m surprised to see that, finally, trams now run into Leith and almost to Newhaven Harbour. The bus passes a favourite Turkish café: Cafe Truva at The Shore. It’s good to see that it’s survived Covid (and, on a return trip a few weeks later, that the food is as good as I remembered it). Having worked in Edinburgh I remember that St Giles’ Cathedral on the Royal Mile (teeming with tourists as usual, in the sunshine which is less usual) often has lunchtime concerts and I’m in good time for the 1.30pm concert (after paying my respects to Greyfriars Bobby nearby) where The Maryville College Concert Choir from Tennessee performs a varied programme including psalms, spirituals and the Skye Boat Song. After the concert I stroll along the Royal Mile (free water dispensers? Is that something new here? It’s very commendable), pausing to watch fire crews tackle a blaze above Starbucks, before heading to Princes Street to catch a bus back towards Newhaven. We’re close to Ocean Terminal and the Royal Yacht, but I’ve been to both before, so I head for The Shore as it’s been a few years since I walked the historic and picturesque street at the end of the Water Of Leith. In the long queue for the tender, and in the strong breeze, I chat to a couple from Alabama who met up today with their daughter and grandchildren. As a treat, they were taken to… today’s lunchtime concert at St. Giles! It’s a bumpy ride back to the ship, accompanied by incessant safety announcements over the PA system that nobody pays attention to because it's just noise and everyone is more interested in exchanging the day’s experiences. I’m hungry after strolling round my favourite city. Cream of potato soup? Yes, please - except the base is a chicken stock. There is also French Onion Soup (what’s wrong with British onions?) and we know what the base for that is. The maître d’ offers to have vegetarian soup made for me with 24 hours' notice. I thank him, but decline. The chefs have quite enough to do. Light rain trickles down the picture windows as we turn around in the firth and the bridges recede into the distance. As we drift away, the sun powers through thin cloud to cast a dazzling reflection across the placid water rippling in the ship's gentle wake. Tonight’s entertainment in the Stardust Theatre is a celebration of Frank Sinatra featuring Devin, our pub vocalist, and the fine showband. Unfortunately, Devin hits an occasional flat note. I leave for the Latin music playing on stage in the Atrium, dancing cha-cha with a bubbly hostess who’s tried and failed to co-opt unwilling male colleagues. I chat with another solo traveler. She’s from Worcester, Mass and dances Latin and ballroom. I tell her about the ballroom set planned for later in the cruise. We wait in vain for the advertised bachata during the 45-minute set. In O’Sheehan’s, I watch the last few minutes of Inter Milan beating AC Milan to reach the final of the Champions League then listen to Soul Solution’s second set of Latin music in the Atrium where one of the bar staff leads the dancing to raucous applause. Wednesday 17 May - Invergordon (Inverness) It's a cool, grey, dry day in the port of Invergordon and the unmanned train station is a 10-minute walk from our berth where the local information booth promises, “100% Guaranteed Sightings of ‘Nessie’… TOMORROW!” I'm fortunate to catch the 11.31 train to Inverness because the next train isn’t until 16.10. I don’t know if a bus might have been an alternative option. "Is this the train to Inverness?" I ask, because the LED display in the carriage shows stops going in the other direction. The child protection officer opposite assures me it is, otherwise she won't be making her connection to Perth and won't be arriving home in Abernethy later this evening. She has cases as far north as Thurso whilst her colleague's extend to Orkney and Shetland. It's an extremely scenic 60-minute ride along the shores of the Moray Firth. At the tourist information office, a few minutes stroll from the train station, I’m given an information sheet about Culloden where the 1745 Jacobite rebellion ended. I’ve been previously but remember nothing about it, during a stay at the wonderful Carbisdale Castle, sadly no longer a youth hostel due to maintenance costs. Culloden is 25 minutes away by hourly bus so a return visit will have to wait for another day. Instead, my time is spent exploring Inverness in the warm sunshine. I walk past the castle and down to the river following the suggested route of two volunteer ladies in the museum shop. The itinerary takes me past the Cavell Gardens (I’ve been unable to discover any link between the WW1 nurse and the town) through wooded paths along the river to Ness Islands thirty minutes from the town centre, across an iron footbridge and back along the other side where the visitor signpost at the Ness Brg bridge has (been?) turned through 180 degrees, so anyone who doesn’t know the town and has a train to catch is guaranteed to miss it. However, I know where the station actually is and am therefore in good time to catch the 2.50 train back to Invergordon, pausing a few moments to check in a shop window which clan I belong to (Fraser, apparently) and read about the wolves guarding the entrance to the town hall. As I ride back, seated on the right hand side for the views, passing fields of sheep, horses and highland cattle, thick woods, the home of Ross County FC and the shoreline of the firth, I wonder how I've survived almost six hours without food; however, any calories burned during my walking tour of Inverness and subsequent short exploration of Invergordon are returned with interest after a visit to the Garden Café. (NCL please note - the corners of triangular scones quickly become stale, so round scones are better!) Let’s see what activities there are for the rest of the day. Apart from quizzes (and the library) there’s nothing to stimulate the brain but, to the ship’s credit, a solos get-together is arranged every evening, and there’s also a daily LGBTQIA+ Meet and Greet. (I imagine the + is shorthand for the other 19 letters in the alphabet.) I've been puzzled since the start of the cruise why I haven't seen any excursion information about Orkney. All is made clear at the front desk - we're not going there. The round-Britain itineraries this season alternate between Kirkwall and Stornaway, but don’t include both on the same trip. Oh dear! I think that's my most serious senior moment to date. In o’Sheehan’s I watch a dominant Manchester City overwhelm Real Madrid before heading back up to the Garden Café for a crepe drizzled with a little lemon and sprinkled with a soupcon of sugar (other fillings are available - over a dozen, in fact) and just enjoy the gentle thrum of the engines as we sail on gentle waters round the top of mainland Scotland with the coast clearly visible. Tonight’s entertainment is a little different: the showband is playing two sessions in the Grand Atrium and later, in the Bliss Lounge, there’s an Ocean Music Fest where all the pub entertainers come together on stage - and it’s very enjoyable. Back in my cabin, first there's a loud creaking from the ceiling (something metallic seems to have worked loose) then the water is cut off - Guest Services tell me the latter is due to a cracked pipe. For the former I’m offered ear plugs after a maintenance man comes to assess the noise for himself and agrees that it’s not just the natural creak of an ocean-going vessel. It's long after 2am before I can get to bed. Stornoway, tomorrow's port of call in the wild and beautiful Outer Hebrides, will be the undoubted highlight of the cruise: the Standing Stones of Callanish, the Lewis Chessmen, Harris Tweed... I imagine there are some on board who have waited their whole lives, and travelled halfway round the world, to finally see the remote home of their Scottish ancestors. Thursday 18 May - Stornaway "The captain has determined that, due to the inclement weather, we will be having a day at sea..." Friday 19 May 2023 - Belfast In case you’re wondering what activities were (hastily) devised to lift our deflated spirits yesterday - 11:00a Blackjack tournament (fee required) 1:00p Mojito tasting (fee required) 2:00p Wine and French Macarons (fee required) 3:00p Margarita tasting (fee required) 3:15p Bingo card sales (fee, obviously) 4:00p Wine and chocolate pairing (guess what) The Garden Cafe girls are attempting to brighten the morning with their customary dancing whilst singing "Feeling Hot Hot Hot" - not feelings normally associated with arriving into Belfast. Breakfast is served until 10am due to our late arrival, although I don’t know why we’re late. The islands of Ireland (and the mainland) are clearly visible through the large picture windows as, over the course of an hour, I tuck into: a Danish pastry with a cup of tea; scrambled eggs, baked beans and fried potatoes and onions with cranberry, apple juice and water; toasted bagel with butter and marmalade with a second cup of tea; cottage cheese, yogurt, granola, bircher and a little berries syrup with a third cup of tea; and a fourth cup of tea to finish. And I wonder why I'm looking a little chubby… Compared to many on this cruise; however, I'm positively anorexic. The morbid obesity of many of the American and English passengers is in stark contrast to the slim and trim appearance of those from Asia, Iberia and Australia. Tonight the band is playing a 45-minute session of ballroom dance music. And, because our arrival has been put back until noon, has our forward-thinking cruise director thought to slip in a basic dance class. Waltz anyone? Cha-cha, perhaps? Of course not! A guide at the cruise terminal explains that I have two bus options: there’s an hourly public bus, no. 94, from a stop a few minutes’ walk from the cruise terminal - the last one back from the town centre is at 17.05 and a day ticket is £4.79; or the frequent shuttle bus from the ship which costs £10 but runs until 7pm. I opt for the latter. Places of interest are marked for me on a map, and an overcast, dry, mild day seems ideal for walking round the compact city. The shuttle bus stop is opposite Belfast City Hall - a beautiful Baroque Revival building, opened in 1906 and constructed in Portland stone which I hope to see in situ later in the cruise. Lots of people are enjoying a bite to eat out on the lawns and benches in the sunshine, and by impressive statues such as that of Frederick Temple, Marquess of Dufferin, Anglo-Irish aristocrat and diplomat-extraordinaire: Governer-General of Canada, Viceroy of India and ambassador at St. Petersburg, Paris, Rome and Constantinople, inter alia. I can’t look inside City Hall; though, because of a civil service strike, so I head off to explore the city, first walking down to the circular Waterfront Hall. Through large iron gates at the side of the adjacent Hilton hotel, Samson and Goliath - the iconic, yellow gantry cranes of the Harland and Wolff shipyard - are clearly visible. The Belfast Barge, MV Confiance, a floating museum recalling the city’s maritime heritage, and the Beacon of Hope (a.k.a. Nuala With The Hula) bronze and steel sculpture by Queen’s Bridge precede the start of the Maritime Mile which starts once across the bridge, on Queen’s Quay, with a dedication to three Titanic men who made Harland and Wolff the world’s biggest shipbuilders in the early 1900s: William, Lord Pirrie, the chairman; Alexander Montgomery Carlisle, the head draughtsman; and Thomas Andrews Jr. who designed the Titanic. I hear the Sound Yard, a playful installation designed to imitate the sounds of a shipyard, before I reach it then make a short detour to get a clear view of Samson and Goliath through wire fencing. Back on the Mile, the world’s last remaining White Star vessel, the dry-docked SS Nomadic, which served as a tender to the Titanic’s passengers, precedes the Titanic Belfast visitor attraction resembling four giant prows, and behind which are the slipways of the Titanic and the Olympic. I head back to City Hall at a leisurely pace via the Albert Clock dating from 1869 which, due to subsidence, has a lean of 1.25 meters from the vertical, hence a local wag’s observation that the clock “… has both the time and the inclination.” There’s one last attraction I want to visit - the ornate Crown Liquor Saloon, built by Italian craftsman in the 1880s (in town to build some local churches), with its elaborate tiling, stained glass and carved woodwork. It’s a short walk from City Hall and is situated in the Linen Quarter, but it’s far too crowded for me to stop a while and have a drink, so I just take a photo. It’s so blurred it looks as if I have been drinking. Why didn’t I take another one? On the shuttle bus back to the ship I chat with a guy from the DC area who tells me he only ever goes into town when he has visitors. We speculate as to what the immense blades stacked horizontally a few yards away from the ship might be. As I get off the bus, the driver tells me they’re for wind turbines - the cruise terminal is being moved closer to the mouth of the River Lagan, enlarged to accommodate more cruise ships, and the area where we are now is to become a wind farm. There’s a self-led Shabbat service from 6-7pm in the Bangkok room where a table has been covered with a white tablecloth upon which has been laid prayer books, head coverings, wine, juice, braided loaves, and beetroot and horseradish source. Attendees include a Torontonian who grew up in Miraflores (Lima’s bohemian quarter) and her adopted Chinese daughter who was abandoned as a baby. Kudos to NCL for having this as a feature of their cruises. There's barely a ripple on the water as we glide out of Belfast and along the coast where lights twinkle in the dusk, and out into the Irish Sea. Saturday 20 May 2023 - Liverpool It’s a sunny, warm morning as I stroll around an almost empty upper deck and point out The Three Graces (the Royal Liver, Cunard and Port of Liverpool buildings) to an unnervingly polite, elderly couple from Texas who insist on calling me “sir”, but I don't mention I filmed there recently (as a TV extra for a political drama). They’re taking a ship’s excursion to Chester. An excellent choice, I tell them - a fine city with part of the Roman walls being accessible to those of limited mobility. There’s nothing I’m particularly interested in doing today - I’m only a couple of hours from home. I disembark a little before noon - amidships, deck 4 - and take a couple of selfies with the elegant Norwegian Star in the background. At the pier head is a monument conceived as a Titanic memorial, “In honour of all heroes of the marine engine room” who stayed at their posts so others could survive. “Liverpool World Heritage City”; however, is no longer true because the city was stripped of its UNESCO status in 2021 due to over-development of the waterfront. Walking to the nearby Albert Dock, I pass various war-related memorials: to Chinese merchant seaman who served Britain during both world wars; to the (home) merchant navy; to Canadian citizens, represented by maple trees from their government; and a propeller from the Lusitania. Beyond the statue to local pop icon Billy Fury is Floating Earth by artist Luke Jerram which uses detailed NASA imagery of the Earth, and uses the water of the dock as a natural mirror to the temporary installation. It’s too far for me in the heat to visit either of the city’s cathedrals so, staying centrally, I head in the direction of the Cavern Club, pausing at the statue to the Beatles’ erstwhile manager, Brian Epstein, who managed other stellar acts such as Cilla Black and Gerry and the Pacemakers. There are, of course, large crowds milling outside the club, opposite which is Eric’s where Talking Heads, The Police, The Ramones and others once played. From there, further wandering brings me to the neo-Baroque Queen Victoria Monument in Derby Square, built over the former site of Liverpool Castle. Passing the Beatles’ sculpture back on the waterfront (they’re also just out for a stroll, although today they don’t need their coats) I stop to admire Heaven & Earth - a telescope sculpture celebrating the life and works of the 17th century astronomer, Jeremiah Horrocks from Liverpool who was the first person to accurately calculate the transit of Venus. In the sunshine I find a spot to rest on the waterfront and read about him on the internet. At eight o’clock, with the light beginning to fade, I go out on deck as we drift away from the city and down the Mersey. It’s sad that there’s no live music for these sailaways. After the Soul Rockin’ Nights show in the Stardust Theatre, our cruise director announces, "I just want to give you an important information." Apparently, Isha’s been too busy to visit the library. As usual, the rest of the evening is spent drifting from the Grand Atrium to Gatsby’s to the Bliss Lounge listening to different genres of popular music Sunday 21 May 2023 - Dun Laoghaire (Dublin) I watch some of the tender operation - passengers booked on shore excursions heading off to Dun Laoghaire - before a leisurely breakfast, although I’ve given up on Danish pastries since I glimpsed rotundity in the bathroom mirror. Despite leaving my knife and fork set at a quarter to three, my table is yet again cleared and my second bagel thrown away whilst I'm getting a refill of hot water. Service charges can be adjusted a couple of days before the end of the cruise and, because it's happened five times now, and each time I'm assured it won't happen again, I will reduce it by $5 to $15 per day. I’m off the ship by 11am and chat with a guy from Brisbane on the tender. We share near-miss experiences: he nearly missed his ship in Cambodia and my closest call was in Gibraltar. Friendly, relaxed, droll HoHo guys by the waterfront sell me a €30 day ticket which includes the €5 return DART train ticket to Dublin. I’m advised to do a round trip to live commentary (the hop-on-hop-off buses alternate between live and recorded commentary) to first get a feel for the city. A few minutes later I catch the noon train for what proves to be a scenic ride along the bay into Dublin, getting off at Pearse station where a HoHo girl at the station entrance directs people to the bus stop opposite. She tells me that a bus ride all the way round takes about 90 minutes. I’ll try that and see how I am for time. The informative driver with his well-practiced patter is a fine guide as we drive past Trinity College, the home of The Book of Kells; Temple Bar and City Hall; Dublin Castle; the Guinness Brewery with its iconic St. James’s Gate; and through the immense Phoenix Park (twice the size of New York’s Central Park). Some of the sites we pass by in the park include the monument to local boy, the Duke of Wellington; the Phoenix monument (although the park is named for a body of water rather than a mythical bird); the US embassy; Dublin Zoo (the home of the original MGM lion); the official residence of the Irish President; and the Papal Cross. The contrast between the English Blackpool and the Irish Black Pool (Dubh Linh) is striking: the former, with its soiled seafront spattered with a mile or more of manure from the daily droppings of trotting horses pulling garish carriages along the promenade, and the latter - clean and welcoming. Where’s a good place to experience an Irish coffee? There are plenty of bars along the River Liffey but the bus driver recommends Kennedys close by the statue of Oscar Wilde which is the last stop before my starting point at Pearse Street. Excellent! The colourful Oscar Wilde Monument is in the corner of Merrion Square Park opposite the house in which the Wilde family lived, and a three-minute walk away in the direction of Pearse Station is Kennedys. The bar is famous for its literary clientele, including Wilde (who used to work there as a boy, stacking shelves), Joyce and Yeats, and I watch as the barman pours coffee, sugar, Tullamore Dew and a collar of cream into a classic glass. €8? Is that expensive, or a sign that I don’t frequent bars very often? I linger, savouring every delicious sip. I pass more sites such as the birthplace of the Duke of Wellington, intending to get off the bus near the castle and walk down to the river, but I’m running out of time (the last tender back to the ship is at 6pm) so walk back to the station and listen to a pianist entertaining us until the train arrives. I have half an hour to look around Dun Laoghaire before joining the queue for the tenders where it doesn’t matter how much you paid for your cabin, you still have to stand and wait in the democratic line. I board a tender at 6pm, but there are three more coachloads yet to arrive, and eavesdrop on an elderly Canadian couple trying to explain the difference between the city of Vancouver and Vancouver Island to a young Spanish couple. I suppose it is confusing that the city isn’t actually on the island. Tonight there’s grilled hake (topped with finely diced vegetables and pineapple) instead of tilapia 48 ways. Dessert is pina colada cream cake where I can taste neither pina nor colada, perhaps due to the slice of cheddar jalapeno cornbread I had before dessert having converted my taste buds to taste duds. Well, frankly, this is ridiculous… The first of tonight’s featured entertainment is the Speed Trivia Gameshow at 8pm in the Bliss Lounge - how many questions can you answer in 30 seconds? The answer is - hardly any, because our MC stumbles repeatedly in his efforts to ask rapid fire questions in English. There's Latin music in the Grand Atrium and much enthusiastic audience participation in the chorus of the unofficial Mexican national anthem, Cielito Lindo, but because my singing doesn't gladden any hearts, my contribution is barely audible even to me. It’s very curious that at night-time it's the port side of the Garden Café that vibrates rather than starboard - my late evening plum cobbler is more of a plum wobbler. The DJ seems as limited in his playlist as the entertainment staff in their English - tracks such as Fireball, Born This Way and Can't Stop The Feeling seem to be played every night. That's probably why a packed Bliss Lounge with a packed dance floor from the ABBAlicious Party at 10.45pm becomes an almost empty lounge with 6 people on the dance floor ten minutes later. Monday 22 May 2023 - Cobh (Cork) I’ve followed the trail of Captain Cook across the South and North Pacific, the trail of pirates in the Caribbean and the South China Sea, and today allows me to complete my own Titanic trail by arriving in Queenstown (as Cobh was known then), her final port of call before setting out on her fateful maiden voyage. By 8.30 the coaches for the shore excursionists are lined up by the dock, behind which is the little train station. Cobh looks very pretty, but a short (10-minute) walk past pastel-coloured buildings down to the bandstand in Kennedy Park, and a short reflection at the Lusitania Peace Memorial, will suffice for the moment - I’ll save exploration for later, depending on how much time is left after visiting Cork. I doubt I’m the first person to confuse the entrance to the Cobh Heritage Centre with the entrance to the train station (outside and to the left), and I catch the 11am train (a day ticket costs €6.90) arriving in Cork half an hour later, after a scenic ride along the River Lee and across Lough Mahon. At the station is a memorial to Thomas Kent, after whom the station is named, who was, “Executed by British armed forces at Victoria Barracks now Cork Prison 9th May 1916.” During my half-hour walk into town in the warm sunshine, searching for the tourist information office, I pause at Paddy Torino’s / City Grill, outside which is an extensive dedication to the great man himself - father of thirty-two children, honorary member of the Rat Pack, captain of the Italian soccer team at the Berlin Olympics, fighter pilot and national hunt champion jockey. I imagine he also owned nearby Blarney Castle. At the tourist information office, places of interest are marked out for me and I head back across St. Patrick’s Bridge and the north channel of the river up towards the Butter Museum and the nearby Shandon Bells and Tower. On the way back down I pass the birthplace of sportsman and politician Jack Lynch, twice Taoiseach during the 1960s and 70s. The quiet of the hilly, north side is replaced by the teeming crowds of the flatter, south side with shops and restaurants along the streets and quays of the south channel, through which I meander to Elizabeth Fort, first built in 1601. It was a Jacobite stronghold during the Williamite War, an army barracks, and a prison with many inmates incarcerated prior to transportation. The stories of the prisoners, mostly women who became founding mothers of modern-day Australia and who stayed on after their sentence because they couldn’t afford the journey back to Ireland, are harrowing and fascinating. Just before reaching the train station I come across the former offices of the St. George Steam Packet Company, owners of the steamship Sirius which was the first ship to cross the Atlantic entirely under steam. Newspapers reported that her fuel ran out before reaching New York but her captain, determined to complete the passage under steam, declined to hoist the ship’s sails and, instead, fed spars into the furnace. True or not, the story inspired the famous episode in Jules Verne’s Around The World In Eighty Days. Catching the 3pm train back to Cobh gives me plenty of time to explore the colourful island town, replicating my earlier walk but also exploring side streets and listening to some terrible live music outside The Mauretania bar. Back at the Annie More statue right by the ship’s ropes (she was the very first immigrant to be processed at Ellis Island, on New Year’s Eve 1891, aged just 17) four locals in elegant period costume pose for photographs. It’s a very scenic sailaway through the harbour channels, passing the whitewashed buildings of Roache’s Point Lighthouse and out into the Celtic Sea - a perfect evening for a sailway deck party but, of course, there isn’t one. I have a chat with Ramon, one of the musicians I chatted with on the tender into Newhaven, before the showband's first session of the evening in the Atrium begins. His contract is until September when it'll be spring back home and this is his second year with NCL - last year he was also on the Dawn. As compensation for missing Stornaway and the late arrival in Belfast, $100 on-board credit per cabin has been granted. Drinks, chocolates, shore excursions, clothes (was there really nobody in NCL marketing who questioned whether emblazoning everything with “Hooked On Cruising” was a good idea?), watches, jewellery, flasks… I buy a box of Lindt chocolate squares for $22 from the on-board shop just before it closes The ship’s Glow Party at 10.45pm in the Bliss Lounge is a desultory affair. A few passengers are wearing white and/or neon, the entertainment staff are working hard, but the atmosphere and music have no (ahem!) sparkle. Tuesday 23 May 2023 - Portland (Weymouth) I gaze out the large café windows watching as the Portland Pilot boat guides us slowly in on a calm, clear morning. By 11am the ship is tied up. On the adjacent dock is the MS Deutschland. This was the ship that passengers departing Paris aboard the ill-fated Air France Concorde Flight, on 25 July 2000, had been due to join on arrival in New York. There are frequent, complimentary shuttle buses to Portland Castle continuing on to Weymouth six miles away. From the upper deck I get my first sighting of the sweeping Chesil Beach, part of the UNESCO World Heritage listed Jurassic Coast. From where we are dropped off it’s a pleasant 10-minute walk into town, past the pedestrianised Brewer’s Quay (taking care not to get run over by the land train), along the harbour (the estuary of the river Wey) with its colourful houses, and over the town bridge. I can’t see any signs for tourist information. The museum ladies locking up at 1pm explain, with a smile of resignation, that there isn’t one. A holiday hotspot in the middle of the world-famous Jurassic Coast doesn’t have a tourist information centre? Dear me! Now that I’ve (sort of) got my bearings, I want to go back to Portland, renowned for its limestone (used in world-famous buildings such as Buckingham Palace and the UN headquarters in New York) and its lighthouse. The driver of bus no. 1 from the King's Statue (George III, since you asked, who holidayed for many years in Weymouth at the turn of the 18th century) tells me that, from the closest bus stop on Portland, it will be about a half-hour walk down to the lighthouse. It’s a lovely day and, with an all-aboard time of 7.30pm, I’ll have time to visit and explore Weymouth town afterwards. The 30-minute bus ride shows me that Portland is a sizeable town, not just a nature reserve and as we climb higher I get even better views of the expanse of Chesil Beach. At my pace, and with my failed attempt at a shortcut, it’s closer to a 40-minute walk down to the lighthouse and visitor centre. Beyond, closer to the shoreline, is: an obelisk built of Portland stone which served as a navigational aid before the lighthouse was built; and Pulpit Rock, a quarrying relic. I don’t fancy an uphill walk back to the bus stop in the heat of a sunny afternoon and manage to get a lift with a kind family from Birmingham. By half past four I’m back at the George III statue (and a replica of the royal bathing machine) on the esplanade. I walk through narrow town streets, pausing on the town bridge to watch rowers along the estuary, and back to where the shuttle bus waits. Do I hear singing? There’s a girl threesome in matching print dresses with pink bows in their hair down on the dock, and a small crowd gathers on the promenade deck 7 to listen to swing and jive classics. It’s a lovely interlude and shows what the ship should be doing for every sailaway. Sadly, I don’t have anyone to dance with. At eight o’clock we slowly drift away from our final port of call then it’s back to the cabin to pack. I won’t put my case out tonight, preferring to take it tomorrow myself so I can disembark at relative leisure. Once packed, I pop in to listen to some of the entertainment on offer this evening, including The Rat Pack Returns With Glenn Macnamara, before reducing my service charges to $15 because my cutlery signals continue to be ignored. Wednesday 24 May 2023 Disembarking does prove to be much more relaxed when I take my own luggage. After breakfast, I say goodbye to my cabin steward, showing my appreciation in the traditional manner, disembark at 8.45 and walk back to the train station. Well, I didn’t manage to spend much of my on-board credit and, socially, as a solo passenger, the cruise has been a failure, but the cruise has granted me a temporary remission from various health problems which is much more important.

After 20-something cruises, and none since the pandemic, the attraction of a round-Britain cruise allowing me to see my home from a different perspective proved irresistible. The food, cabin, staff and entertainment aboard the Norwegian Dawn have, thus far, all been fine, but this diary snapshot is to highlight one rather galling failure. Wednesday 17 May 2023 (after a splendid day in Inverness) .... Stornoway, tomorrow's port of call in the wild and beautiful Outer Hebrides, will be the undoubted highlight of the cruise. So much to see and learn about: the Standing Stones of Calanais, the Lewis Chessmen (sadly shipped to Edinburgh and London), Harris Tweed... I imagine there are passengers (sorry - I mean, guests) on board who have waited their whole lives, and travelled halfway round the world, to take up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to visit this remote home of their Scottish ancestors. Thursday 18 May 2023 "The captain has determined that, due to the inclement weather, we will be having a day at sea." The disappointment is palpable. And what are some of the upbeat activities that the cruise director has hastily but imaginatively improvised in an effort to lift spirits? Let's take a look at some of the revised schedule… 11:00a Blackjack tournament (fee required) 1:00p Mojito tasting (fee required) 2:00p Wine and French Macarons (fee required) 3:00p Margarita tasting (fee required) 3:15p Bingo card sales (fee, obviously) 4:00p Wine and chocolate pairing (guess what) Not even a single dance class? Really?? There's not a single person amongst the officers and crew (Hello! Entertainment staff!!) who could put together a fun, 45-minute class teaching a line dance, or cha-cha, or jive, or salsa, or ballroom waltz??? For shame! To be continued…