Flamin_June

We have a sea day tomorrow, so that will be a chance to catch up on things. In the meantime…. The Pacific Odyssey cocktail. So far, as it stands: in a whisky glass, salt the rim, one big measure of Benedictine, one big measure of Calvados, plenty of ice, a few drops of orange bitters and a squeeze of lemon juice. Stir and sample. I feel it is perhaps just one ingredient short of perfection, but I am uncertain as to what. any suggestions gratefully received and may be tested. I am thinking of replacing the orange bitters with a small shot of blue curaçao, which may give it a more marine/ocean-like colour. And definitely tonight will add an olive, which should help to just tone down the sweetness of the Benedictine a touch, and will resemble one of the many greenish coconuts one sees floating in these waters.

It was an ill wind that blew along with us as we traversed across the stretch of Pacific between Samoa and Raiatea, or so it seemed. The sea was choppy, suites creaked at night, we were all masked, clouds and showers gathered and dispersed; the humid wind fanned a kind of collective malaise perhaps reflected in the posts from that time, the wine was poor, the ship ran out of Baileys.Now it feels so long ago. Everything changed as we docked in Uturoa. The wind calmed, the sun broke through the clouds, Martin hopped off the Odyssey to get more wine from the local supermarket. The masks came off, the intense humidity evaporated. The only thing missing was the Baileys….and lens- wipes.

Sunday 16th April, 13.40, Bora Bora Radio silence for the last few days as we have hopped from port to port and I have been working with Vita in developing a new cocktail, to be called a Pacific Odyssey. Haven’t perfected it yet, but the trials have been going rather well. Rather too well. So well that I have given up writing in favour of falling off the barstool and generally slurring my words. Well, it worked for Hemingway……

Thanks folks, for the informative exchange. Talking of incentives, 35% off the price of Pursuit itineraries is being offered if you book on board. Talking of Pursuit, FB manager Martin has left to go to Genoa and help prepare Pursuit before taking charge of her first three months at sea. Oskar is now in post and doing a splendid job. Talking of Martin, a while ago A remarked how much she liked the small butter dishes with their chrome lids that are on the tables in the MDR, and that they would make a neat little present for son and daughter. Several days later three were delivered to our suit, compliments of the FBTeam, each filled with the little turn-down chocolates.

No masks for crew. After some two weeks it is difficult to recognise anyone without a mask!! Crew especially are very happy. Some crew will be leaving us in Papeete, others joining. Supplies were being loaded in Raiatea, more to come, I guess, in Tahiti.

You will be very welcome, as long as you behave yourself 🧐 We could do with a ship’s surgeon on board.😊 The good news is that the Captain announced that from midday today mask wearing is optional. As far as I have been able to see, only three passengers have taken up the option.

I promised a mid-term review, so as we proceed slowly beneath a cloudless sky upon a benign and placid sea gently cooled by a mild breeze in a warm and balmy 27 C, last nights cheeseburger well and truly out of my system I feel I can pronounce without undue prejudice. Yes the ship is showing her age, there are scuffs and bruises, scratches and patches here and there. No doubt if one’s first experience of Seabourn was on the Encore or Ovation, one would find the O class ships underwhelming and dated. Thus it was when the O class first came on the scene, people we spoke to, who had sampled them first and then went on to the little sisters, invariably found the Pride, Spirit and Legend disappointing. Whereas, as much as I like the O class, nothing can match the thrill and fun of the little ships. For those who have come to know and love the O class, there is a sense of bittersweet melancholy to see the sheen tarnished by age, but, like meeting an old lover years later, there is still a quickening of the heart, a fond remembrance of good times shared. And in fact, she still cuts a fine figure compared to all those obscene and obese mass market floozies cluttering up our ports and harbours. The officers and crew have been marvellous. Bending over backwards to fulfil wishes and fix things where they can. Engaging. Uplifting. And let’s not forget that this is an absolutely sold out sailing, that staffing levels have been depleted by quarantine, that there have been as many sea days, always tougher for the crew, as there have been port days. My main gripe is that what I thought was an extended journey, not necessarily a grand voyage, has also been marketed as two week segments. So, as Markham commented elsewhere there has been a certain amount of repetition in the menus, in the events, and I suspect, there has been a certain amount of discount selling. Not that I am in a position to complain too vociferously. Where standards have dropped has been in the quality of the passengers. A degree or two of graciousness and good manners, of politesse, of flair and style and dress sense, of wit and charm and vivacity, has been lost, replaced by more than a hint of pushyness and avarice, narcissism, disregard of others, poor manners, appalling dress sense, entitlement, status-checking, polyester and bad haircuts. Perhaps it is just my age, perhaps it is just the Easter holiday crowd.

Well, that puts a poor cheeseburger into perspective. How was the wine?

Tuesday, 11th April, 14.00, Pacific Ocean After a rocky, creaky, wave thudding, swaying, sea spraying kind of night the sea has calmed to a deeper blue. Earlier the sky was filled with grey and white streaks of altostratus clouds, now a mostly empty pale blue with half-hearted cirrus scattered above, a few grey streaks near to the horizon and distant cumulus dropping beneath the distant edge of the endless ocean. Last night we had cheeseburgers from room service, but despite their arrival at more or less the allotted time I can only give them 4/10 for an effortless lack of effort. We had asked for one without a bun to be medium, and one with a bun to be medium rare, but of course they arrived the wrong way round, luke warm, no dressing, the meagre handful (and I am talking about a small child’s hand) of fries were of the standard supermarket frozen oven baked variety, not the mighty Seabourn fries we all know and love, also luke warm, dried out and withered. The side orders of indescribably unspeakable coleslaw - thinly shredded, sweet, interspersed WITH CURRANTS resembling dead flies, were thankfully tiny, not so much a side order, more an afterthought. It was abysmal. All washed down with a delicious 2019 Medoc. In 21 nights this has been the only notable fail where one wants to say “We are paying tens of thousands of dollars to be on board and expect better than this.”

Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. None on our current cruise, but they were certainly offered precovid.

Easter Monday, Pacific Ocean, 16.00 The choppy seas continue today. Yesterday the misty start gave way to sunny periods, with a humid breeze fanning the seas. Today the breeze picked up, 20 - 25 knots, the swell increased to 2.5 meters or more. We are currently enveloped by thick cloud and rain, which we have been rocking our way through for the last half hour or so. The weather looks to be the same tomorrow, with rain and possible thunder storms, but should be clearing up by the time we dock at Raiatea. The galley lunch, transformed again to an Odyssey poolside and Colonnade food festival, happily took place while the clouds more or less parted, with just a very short shower to remind us where we were. Fortunately my plate was empty at the time, and served as an impromptu umbrella. As I write we have broken through the rain into bluer cloud-filled skies and calmer waters, though the sea retains its troubled, cold, metallic grey hue. One last whine about the wine: last night we met a happily sloshed Aussie couple whose opening conversational gambit indeed concerned the calamitous wine situation; later while dining in TKG, we were offered a 2016 Italian red, Chianti I think. I was surprised by the date, as I have never known a complementary wine on Seabourn to be more than two or three years old. I should have tried it, I suppose, but immediately thought this might be something that had been found lurking at the back of a cupboard, so we stuck with the Bordeaux. Earlier today we learned that three of the Ventures zodiac trips that we had booked for the coming days had been cancelled. Apparently the French Polynesian authorities will not allow any of Odyssey’s own zodiac excursions to take place. This policy will not only apply to Seabourn, but to all other ships/lines in their territorial waters. We spent a jolly couple of hours rearranging our plans and booking alternative trips, but there was very little left and we have had to make do with a visit to the coach driver’s brother-in-law’s hand made shoe insole manufacturing plant, followed by a home cooked lunch of locally bought microwaveable ready meals and a beachside demonstration of apron tying. Only joking. We have in fact booked onto various catamaran and outrigger trips with snorkelling, dolphin watching and warm crystal clear waters teaming with rainbow coloured fish on offer. To further compound the catastrophes we have faced today, we find that there is nothing on any of the menus in any of the venues that we fancy. In more than a decade of sailing with Seabourn we have never had an in suite dinner, so tonight will be a first.

Thanks B&S, your input is very welcome, it always adds to have a different voice and a different viewpoint. I think I’ll hide the Medoc when we take it to dinner - don’t want to get bushwhacked 😄

Yes, I read that too. I heard also that supply shipments were held up by customs and excise somewhere over an issue with duty payments, so, one does not know for sure. There is a certain amount of cloud and smoke that seems to float across transparency. Try finding out from any member of staff what the exact situation is with COVID quarantines - you will get only vague answers, or ‘we don’t knows’. I would like to know things for sure, but I understand why sometimes it is necessary to keep the lid on firmly to stop things boiling over.

So, the wine thing. We drink red wine, so I can’t comment on the white situation, though I believe there is some passable Aussie Sauvignon Blanc, and I did have Rose (with a cute accent) one night which was quite drinkable, if anonymous. It has been mentioned by a fellow passenger, whose opinion we trust, that some white offerings could be used as paint stripper, however. I like a fine wine, but we are perfectly happy with a decent vin ordinaire or vin de table, as we drink wine with our evening meal every night. It is a bit of a misnomer for Seabourn to claim there are fine wines poured each night, but one can usually find something acceptable. Currently there are a number of options that weigh in at 14% or 14.5% which I find too strong or too sweet for everyday quaffing, so we don’t touch those. We have managed to find a Californian Cab Sauv, Raymond, I think it’s called, 2020, which is ok and at 13.5% fairly safe, and a 2021 Bordeaux at a quaffable 13% which is pleasantly nondescript. There is some Californian 12.5% Pinot Noir going round which will do in an emergency, but is a touch too petillant and does not cope well with being carried over to the next day. In short, for us, the poured wine offering is ok but the choice is limited, and I am not sure what will happen when the ones we like run out. As I mentioned earlier, our FB manager was out buying wine in Noumea, but I think he was limited to two dozen cases. I did pick up a bottle of 2019 Medoc (also with a cute accent) in Noumea which we are saving to have with a fillet steak one night. Alexia, the assistant sommelier in the Colonnade, who is first class and will go far if she continues with Seabourn, spotted the Raymond early on and ordered 24 extra bottles for the Colonnade, but they are running out, or have run out, and she put us on to the Bordeaux. I concur with BasandSyb that the wine offering could be better and has been better in the past. Perhaps it will improve once we reach Papeete. Whether it is cut backs or supply issues or both, I can’t say for sure but I can say there are staff on board who know their stuff and are trying their best. I always felt that Seabourn operated on the principle that at least 50% of their passengers wouldn’t know a fine wine if, to borrow a phrase from Frank Zappa, it bit them on the behind, so they could get away with a few pig’s ears among the poured offerings.

Easter Sunday, 08.45.Pacific Ocean. We are at sea now for three days on our way to French Polynesia. Today marks the halfway point of our journey, so it would be a good time to offer some critical reflection, so far; which I will try to do over the next few days. In the meantime: Pago Pago. I was chatting to one of the locals and remarked that it was much cooler today. He looked at me as if I might be in need of pity and remarked “You think it’s cool? Where do you live!? This is too hot for me!”. The temperature had dropped to a mere 34 C, with a humid but welcome breeze. I strolled around in the noonday sun without a care in the world, bought some odds and ends in the various shops, was given a t shirt and bought some cuttlefish flavoured snacks. Our sailaway was interrupted by a couple of intense but brief monsoon like downpours and today is cloudy, we are in thick mist at the moment, and the sea is choppy.

Pago-Pago, American Samoa, 8th April 08.15 am It is Saturday morning again, but Groundhog Day stops there. Slept like a baby as we sailed into the harbour. A, who was awake, says it was spectacularly beautiful, and the welcoming singers and dancers were mercifully located just beyond the aft end of Odyssey. It is spectacularly beautiful now, the quayside and harbour seemingly surrounded and enclosed by steep hills barely a few hundred yards from where we are docked. They rise above us, myriad shades of sunlight dappled green, palms, trees, scores of different leafy textures, a few white and dark feathered birds soar between their shadowed hollows, and above a cloudless blue sky. It rained last night and the rain has freehned up the air and cooled the burning heat of yesterday. I was told by another passenger that the temperature hit 106 F, 41 C, It was sapping. Today will be kinder.

Apia, Samoa, 8th April, 16.45. The ‘perpetual song and dance’ Stevenson wrote about started at about 07.45 this morning, as we were woken by loud drumming, harmonious singing and music; Odyssey had docked to the starboard side. Unfortunately our suite is on the starboard side. More unfortunately, the loudspeakers that amplified the music, drumming and singing of the gay and smiling Samoans, massed on the quayside to welcome us, were just beneath our suite. Even more unfortunately, after a few hour-forward nights, our body clocks were still under the impression that it was 05.45. While the Samoans may still be the gayest inhabitants of the planet, as Stevenson claimed, and one hopes that they are, the Flamin-Junes were certainly among the grumpiest. Drawing both sets of curtains and burying our heads beneath our six feather pillows (thanks, Mr Meadows) did little to diminish the volume of that joyous welcome. We had planned to rise at our leisure, take a relaxed breakfast, and the stroll about the town at a stately pace, but our plans were thrown into much disarray by the suddenness of our awakening; so much so that I forgot to take my medication, a consequence of which is that the subject may be prone to ill-humour and fits of anger. So we spent the best part of the morning snarling at one another in the 33 C + heat - though I think I was chiefly to blame - until I remembered to take the wretched pills, after which peace and love reigned. We made it as far as the end of the market stalls, set up on the quayside, without strangling each other, and bought some tortoiseshell earrings, two woven coasters, a shell bracelet and a coconut shell fridge magnet magnet in the shape of a turtle. Back on board before the morning tours returned we actually managed to find a table in the shade on the pool deck, where we shared a delicious burger and fries and some Fijian beer. The harbour offers splendid views of the small town with its backdrop of green peaks, and a stiff breeze coming off the sea was pleasantly cooling, but may portend a rough passage across the international date line tonight. While it may be Saturday again tomorrow, we hope everything else will be different.

I should add that a couple of days ago Bevlyn went down with COVID, and Corne, Colonnade maitre’d, is also quarantined. Not sure how many crew are down, but some stand-ins are being drafted in from other posts here and there. Some passengers previously quarantined are due to be released and the people who were denied disembarkation in Fiji will also be going tomorrow. As far as I know, which probably isn’t very far, no new cases have have been reported among incoming passengers. Most people are doing their best to comply with mandatory mask wearing. Given that active crew numbers have been depleted and that there are extra passengers to service, every crew member deserves a medal. The bubbly, positive, can-do and will-do attitude and atmosphere that the crew worked so hard to evoke and sustain inevitably went a bit flat in the initial aftermath of the contagion, but they all continue to step up to the plate.

At Sea. Good Friday. clocks moved forward an hour yet again. We are sailing to Samoa, the intense heat and humidity of Savusavu has been swept away by a cooling breeze and a rising swell. Formal night last night and approximately 70% - 80% of diners in the MDR had made some sort of effort though a few were admitted wearing what appeared to be tablecloths or gardening clothes. The Restaurant was far from full however, with many choosing to dine outside. The previous night in the Colonnade was a bit of a zoo, I’m afraid, as dozens of determined and pushy passenger streamed through to the outside tables at about 6.45 and set about having a raucous evening with much loud talking over one another and braying laughter. It was rather like being in a pub. Perhaps they thought they were on P&O, in any case they were certainly over excited. The sudden influx was overwhelming for the wait staff and before long we witnessed the FB management team helping to serve dishes. One gentleman chose to dine in polo shirt, shorts and deck shoes with NO SOCKS. We skipped dessert and left quickly to soothe our troubled souls with some after dinner cocktails. Today a languid atmosphere pervades as sun, sea, sound and sights soothe and smooth the spirits of all. By the way, The head chef in the Colonnade, a personable young man from Toulouse, is doing a great job and the quality of the food there has been rather good so far. Tomorrow Samoa awaits. “In Samoa, on the other hand, perpetual song and dance, perpetual games, journeys, and pleasures, make an animated and a smiling picture of the island life. And the Samoans are to-day the gayest and the best entertained inhabitants of our planet” Excerpt From In the South Seas Robert Louis Stevenson Sounds promising.

No sweetbreads on the Odyssey; plenty of pasta, however.

Thurrsday 6th April, 8.30am, Savusavu. Odyssey dropped anchor about two hours ago. The view from the ship to the bay with its small town, surrounded by jagged, jungle-clad volcanic peaks is Shangri-la like. Not a cloud in the sky, the blazing hot sun shoots shimmering reflections off the sea which bounce and flicker in the shadowed corners of our veranda. Dravuni Island, with its softly-spoken,welcoming residents, was a chilled out little chunk of paradise. Long, gently curved beaches gave way to neat well kept homesteads, chickens and dogs wandered about the shady paths, beyond which coconut palms vied for space with shrubs and smaller trees. I followed a rough path, down through a tunnel of tall shrubs and leaves, tiny geckos skittering away from my feet among the dried leaves, tangled roots and rocks. And emerged onto a deserted beach. On the near horizon plumes of white churning surf crashed against the reef. The white sand of the beach gave way to sea smoothed rocks, the water beyond rippling with tiny fish, warm, inviting. A little further out some live corals, iridescent blue fish. We bought some shells, and couple of coconuts to drink.

We booked under the Seabourn Worry Free Promise guarantee, which applied to sailings departing up to 31st March, under which terms any days in quarantine would be compensated with FCC. Wednesday 5th April, 17.20, Fijian waters. Odyssey raised anchor about 20 minutes ago and we are sailing away from Dravuni Island, population c. 250. Yesterday we docked in Lautoka, a typical tropical port town, somewhat impoverished in recent years, but with a warm, relaxed and friendly vibe. It reminded me of Sri Lankan towns we visited over a decade ago, though the buildings and shopfronts are more modern. Perhaps it is partly the influence of the very large Indian expat community. There was a little street hustle here and there and some beggars, mostly Indian ladies, probably professionals, but nothing overly insistent, intense nor threatening, and many smiles and greetings of ‘Bula’ (helo). Lowering clouds were welcome, keeping the intense sun at bay and offered up only a few light spatters of rain. I wandered a little off the beaten track, was offered numerous taxi rides, and at one junction, some ‘weed’, which I kindly declined. The huge market was full of exotic, never previously seen, locally grown produce as well as chillies, turmeric root, ginger, pineapples, all sold by the ‘heap’. There was a kava drinking den at the back. At a local supermarket I bought - could not resist- some Bongo cheese flavoured corn snacks, made in Fiji, of course. No wonder Dravuni island was Mauzac’s favourite. It was a delight for all the senses. I intend to try and wax lyrical about it, but now it is time to change for dinner. Looks like the Colonnade again. Last night we ate there while sailaway was put back because of bunkering delays. It was quite dramatic to sit outside, while directly aft a container ship was being loaded under floodlights, cranes and derricks working in tandem with astonishingly delicate precision. They are getting to know us and our foibles there.

The number of guests with C19 continued to increase, though I have learned from staff that it appears to have stabilised and at least two have been released. The Captain announced at sailaway that the level of response has also increased and mask wearing indoors by all is now mandatory. This must have been a blow to all the new passengers on board, who were heartily enjoying the sailaway atmosphere around the pool bar and sky bar. But they all appear to have complied, and we all keep our fingers crossed that cases will continue to decline. it seems telling that the number of crew in quarantine, all of whom have had to wear masks, has remained stable, while the cases among passengers, a small but significant number of whom chose to ignore the strong advice to wear masks, increased. The average age of passengers, on the other hand, has decreased dramatically, by about a quarter of a century, I’d guess. There seems to be more than a touch of entitlement among some of them, and a distinct ‘holiday crowd’ feel. One family who have brought their late adolescent or younger adult son, and what appears to be his girlfriend, seem to have set up base camp in one of the double bed loungers in the shadiest part of the pool deck. How the chogs who had previously occupied this prime spot will react, if they are still on board, remains to be seen. Said offspring later strolled into the Colonnade in shorts, or possibly bathers, and a bright red t shirt, while we were dining. One hopes that a few days in this intense and humid heat combined with the soothing sound and motion of the sea will dull the thrusting edginess and intensity of power playing some seem to have brought with them from their working lives. Regardless, there is an influx of positive energy and a carnival atmosphere aboard (a typo and predictive spelling had suggested a carnivorous atmosphere…..). Some thoughts on Fiji will follow, but breakfast beckons, as does the idyllic looking Dravuni island.

Tuesday 3rd April, Lautoka, Fiji, 10.15 am Dinner with a ship’s officer and a Seattle Head Manager last night. The official protocols Seabourn currently followi stipulate 6 days quarantine. A number of quarantined guests were due to disembark today. To cut a long story short, Fiji will not allow them off the ship. Guest services management on board worked almost 24 hours non-stop over the last few days to rearrange flights and find hotels where the affected passengers could quarantine. No hotels were prepared to accept them. Consequently they will have to stay aboard until we reach Samoa, who are more open to cooperating. However Odyssey is fully booked, so alternative accommodation had to be found for the dozen or so passengers. Various officers and other crew members have agreed to give up their cabins and share with others so the five or six couples can be accommodated until Samoa (another five days). Seabourn will be arranging flights. I have nothing but praise and admiration for the ship’s staff who have tried tirelessly to resolve things for the passengers. I don’t know if affected passengers have to pick up the bill for quarantine hotels or not, in any case their travel insurance should cover that eventuality. They obviously will not be charged for their extra four nights on board. Odyssey have asked Seattle to not take any further bookings on the next leg, from Papeete (there are a few suites still unsold), so that should the situation repeat itself, there will be spare capacity.

Further investigations reveal: around 170 will depart tomorrow and the same number will embark. There are nine suites in quarantine on deck, 6 and seven on deck 8, but only two crew have tested positive.