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SeaDream II - Malta to Lisbon - part of 5 wks and 3 cruises.


Cruisers1975

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We take up this cruise at Day Three, so you can skip forward the next post. This is the first three days BEFORE SeaDream here, as back-reading for anyone interested.

 

I'd skip it if I were you. But then, we've already read it. We wrote it.

 

And we do apologize for being about four days late in getting this started. We've been busy, as you can see:

 

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Days One & Two

 

Five weeks is a long time, the longest time ever for us, to be away from home. Even when we had two homes, in Toronto and Victoria, and used to move seasonally about, we always knew we had a toothbrush in each. Now we have to pack it. And a whole lot more.

 

Our next five weeks of adventures will have us in weather from 1C to 25C, from scorching sun to drenching rain, dressed in swim suits to business suits, eating at cruise ship troughs to Michelin-starred restaurants, and all the while trying to maintain a diet that says no sugar, no pasta, no potato, no rice.

 

And, of course, with R, it’s “business as usual” each step of the way, always trying to stay within Internet and cell-phone connection with clients five to nine time zones behind us.

 

So, for the first time in our travelling life, we were actually packed 2 days in advance of departure. The checklists were double checked, the mail problem addressed, foreign currencies in hand, the cab called for 11:00 AM Wednesday – and we’re off!

 

A cab, a bus, a ferry, and we’re at Vancouver airport, about 3 hours too early to check in, so it’s coffee and Internet until we can get past security and into the BA departures lounge, for another three hours of wine and nibbles (for me) and R at a workstation, of course, pounding out service fees to pay for all this. I’ve just realized how much a business class ticket to London is, and so I’m resolved not to disturb the earning process.

 

But business class is much more than just being treated with dignity, a flatbed seat for 9 hours, edible food and darn good wine, and a broad movie selection (watched Agora). It is also the Fast Track through immigration when you arrive, and the Arrivals Lounge for the six-hour layover while we await our connection to Malta.

 

Add an elevator, a train, a moving sidewalk and lots of walking and I don’t think there are any modes of transportation left untried on this “flight.”

 

We arrive at 2PM. Fast Track ceased operation at 1PM. We get through immigration by 3PM. The Arrivals Lounge closed at 3PM. We now have till 8:30 to suffer along with hoi polloi until our Air Malta flight.

 

Air Malta. Why does it even exist? Perhaps to make easyJet look inviting?

 

Their check-in counter doesn’t open till, they post, 5PM. We are in line, our proper Coach-class line, at 4:50, already about sixth in the queue. We see signs of life, albeit wearing an Alitalia uniform, in the vicinity by 5:30. By 5:50 she opens one wicket, labeled Business Class. And just as suddenly, an exit laneway between the proper queue and the baggage cart return is confiscated by queue jumpers pretending to be Business Class (we later see them seated with us in the back!).

 

Fortunately (bless you Business Class BA) our three (oops!) very heavy (oops!) bags have been checked through from Vancouver to Malta, as we watch the agent force others to redistribute their packing in order to meet the stricter baggage allowances of Air Malta. By 6:20 we are finally admitted to Her Presence, and checked in. We use our Premier Lounge membership to buy a quiet respite (and Internet station for R) for the intervening two hours, until our plane is ready to accept us.

 

Ever wonder what happens to old A320s when all the world’s airlines upgrade to modern equipment? Air Malta.

 

Boarding was a free for all; even EasyJet has that under better control (for a premium price, to get to the head of the line of their free for all). Although seats were pre-assigned, there was no effort to load the back first, so it took forever, delaying our gate pull-back time, and probably losing our place in takeoff line.

 

The outside of the plane is filthy and faded, and inside is a return to the discomforts of economy class of the 1970s, without the smoke, and with an extra row or two of seats squeezed in. Remember those little drop-down monitors that play soundless Just For Laughs videos? Still there. So are the surly flight attendants, same ones, 40 years older now, and clearly hating their job. Only thing new was the advertising stenciled on the back of the headrest antimacassars. Yes, HSBC, I’ll be sure to call you for our next mortgage; thanks for the reminder.

 

Meal choice was Yes or No, so we gambled on Yes. It was white. White pasta with white sauce, three shavings of white chicken breast splayed on top, with a toxic white bun in a plastic wrapper, and a white cookie of indeterminate composition. Even had a matching white plastic fork. But it was hot, and palatable, in a sorta white, sorta 70s way, as soon as got the oaf in the seat ahead to get his headrest out of my fork space.

 

Arrival in Malta was a continuation of Air Malta’s proven record of customer satisfaction. The flight was an hour late, of course, arriving just before 2AM. Luggage seems to show no sign of having accompanied the flight at all. By 2:40 AM a few special handling pieces (a pair of crutches, a shattered light fixture, etc.) tumble onto the belt. At 2:50AM, a couple of bags arrive, bringing hope to all crowded around. At 3:00 AM the deluge falls, as everything tumbles out at once A 3:10 AM, the loudspeaker speaks over the din of passengers clambering over the bags spilling onto the belt: “Attention passengers arriving on Air Malta flight 103 from London. There is a delay in getting your luggage. It will arrive on Belt 4 shortly. We apologize for the delay.”

 

Fortunately, our pre-arranged taxi driver lady is still standing by, and we arrive at the Hotel Phoenicia by 3:30AM Friday. Despite the fact that the doors are locked and the lights are out, there is a lonely porter to admit us and a desk clerk to process us. We are so tired and eager to see our bed that we fall in without complaint.

 

Don’t worry, though. We’ll have some tomorrow.

 

Day Three – Valletta, Malta

 

Okay, so I’m getting angry here. My review of the Hotel Phoenicia may be just a bit affected by that anger, so be prepared. I’m sitting in the lobby bar, with signs advertising free Internet, only to find that its security certificate is invalid and my Mac has hung up completely. It took me 15 minutes to get it shut down and reopened. Thank you very much, Phoenicia. A fitting farewell.

 

It started thirteen days ago. R made our reservation for two nights in “the best hotel in Malta” – albeit, not a Virtuoso affiliate. We do recognize that there are, rarely but occasionally, fine hotels in the world who do not subscribe to Virtuoso, and surely the venerable Phoenician would be one. Their promo rate was double a standard rate at any other local 4-star, but what the heck – let’s start our vacation in style.

 

First assignment was to drop a line to the hotel to let them know that R was visiting, a Virtuoso agent eager to experience the Phoenician, and perhaps meet the Sales Manager or GM personally during our visit. Personal relationships, even fleeting, go a long way to ensuring future client referrals.

 

I sent an email requesting the email address of the sales manager or general manager on October 3 to the only email address on their Website: info@phoenciamalta.com. It was, of course, unanswered by October 5, so I sent another. Another went out on October 6 and finally on October 8, a request asking if the hotel was closed. No answer. On October 10, I phoned the hotel and was assured it was open, and to address my mail to guest@phoeniciamalta.com, which I did. That got a response that there was no sales manager. No mention of a general manager. So I replied to Sylvie in the Front Office that I just wanted to note that R would be staying for two nights and would like to see the hotel. She responded, “duly noted.”

 

When we arrived, there was a photocopied welcome letter from the general manager’s office, with of course, the signature bearing the same info@phoeniciamalta.com email address that no one monitors.

 

Now, to the hotel itself. A grand dame indeed, huge and old and still awaiting a complete renovation that was well overdue in 1980. Even grandmothers should put on some makeup! It’s filled with British guests who have been coming here every year for 20 years, feathering the laurels upon which the hotel continues to rest. Our room is a standard double, with view to the skylights in the roof of the Palm Court (a.k.a. lobby bar). It is large enough for a standard room, and has a wired Internet connection which, although old fashioned is the best solution for us when you have to pay for it: we connect our Belkin Traveler and voila! the room is now WiFi for both our computers, iPad and iPhones. Other than its size, there is little else to commend the room. It’s just very worn. Not to the point of threadbare, but close. The mould in the bathtub is beginning to show; the oversized key (key!) ring is designed to be left at the font desk when you leave the hotel; the in-room coffee service is actually a kettle and some envelopes of instant; there is no ice (despite what the bartender kept telling people who bothered him all night for a glass of ice); the single elevator is painfully slow and embarrassingly small if another couple is already lodged within on their tedious journey between floors.

 

We did enjoy the Palm Court bar, or at least the personable bartender there, Keith. His middle name is Christian and his brother is Ian – a nominally remarkable coincidence. After a day of Malta touring, we returned here as the sign advertised half price cocktails from 6 to 7PM and we’re always up for a bargain. Three glasses of champagne and three Hopleaf Pale Ales later we are told that these are not cocktails, despite the sign inviting us in for half-price drinks that sits amid a display of champagne glasses and bottles.

 

As we were leaving or dinner, a gentleman with a gentle Irish accent approached and asked if we were David and Goliath (or some such combination of which we weren’t), for he was informed they were in the hotel and as the Operations Manager (and husband of Sylvie), he wanted to meet them. He met us instead.

 

Returning after dinner, we stopped by for a nightcap but were repelled by the pianist (and that takes some repelling, as I will tolerate almost any kind of pianist). There is another bar, called The Bar, I think, off the Palm Court, which offered total silence as the only alternative, and so we headed for bed un-capped, as it were.

 

And now I’m back writing these notes the following morning in the selfsame Palm Court, devoid of piano player or Keith, inhabited only by a scattering of Brits reading their paperbacks. I am here because the hotel refused a later checkout and our boat is not ready for boarding till 2PM. So, we are out of our room, awaiting embarkation more comfortably amid the Brits and Palms than we would be at a cruise terminal. R has just returned from a walk in the hotel gardens that he declares to be very attractive.

 

It’s nice to end a review on a nice note, don’t you agree?

 

And now, for our adventures in Malta the past couple of days.

 

At the concierge’s suggestion (and subsequent compensation, we assume) we took a double-decker hop-on hop-off tour of the main Island. The first stop was the cruise terminal where a P&O cruise ship was disgorging its load of British tourists into the country that was, until only about 1964, one of their own. The nation that invented the word queue has forgotten its meaning as one lone tour bus pulls up to a stop with 300 pushing passengers! Within moments we were filled to capacity and began our tour in earnest.

 

The place is old. Really really old. And it looks every bit of it. Among the amazing things we saw were walls, walls everywhere, of stones laid carefully one atop each other without mortar, to hold soil within and permit water to drain. We also saw a church or chapel on every corner and in every cotton field, attesting to the island nation’s overwhelming (96%) Catholic faith. We heard stories of miracles, like the family hunted down by pirates, with the little girl who hid in a cave and prayed to Our Lady to save her. Our Lady, ever responsive, sent a spider to weave a web entirely over the cave’s entrance, so that when the pirates saw it, they knew that no one could be hiding within. The spider was beatified by Pope Paul, and declared St Arachnid by Pope Benedict in 2008. We also saw a church dome through which a German bomber dropped his payload “in error” during the siege of WWII. It landed amid the congregation of 242 without exploding or injuring any. A miracle was declared and the German soldier returned to beg forgiveness. His head still rests on a spike outside. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to that side of the church. We also saw a church with two clock towers, one clock always showing the correct time and the other always 15 minutes off, just to confuse Satan who, bewildered about when its really tea time, gives up on conquering Earth and goes back to Hell.

 

Leaving our tour bus in Sliema, across the bay from Valletta (I kept calling it Velleti), we explored a beautifully modern shopping centre, with all the British brands like Marks & Sparks, and Debenhams, and a grocery store filled with childhood memories for R. We took a ferry (0.93 EUR each – “exact change only”) back to our hotel side and the “Happy Hour” that awaited.

 

After a continuing pub crawl of referral addresses of now-closed wine bars, we selected a sidewalk café for dinner, where my adventurous side took over and ordered two appetizers described as typical Maltese cuisine: goat cheese for one, and something gaggingly inedible for the other. It sounded so good: buffalo cheese baked in Parma ham with an apricot chutney. Pass. R quite enjoyed his pork loin in creamed spinach, however.

 

We persuaded a taxi driver to take us to the best-known gay bar in town, Tom Bar, wait 30 minutes for us to have a drink, and return us to our hotel. Being old, and norteamericanos, we arrive at 8:30PM and the European action starts at midnight, so we do just have our one drink in the empty bar. Of course the cab driver comes in (curious?) about 10 minutes later to ask if we will indeed be another 20 minutes, probably so he can grab another fare in the meantime. We say, no, we’re ready to leave now, much to his chagrin. The drive back to the hotel took a few more corners very short. Cab drivers drive very fast here and even faster when they’re angry.

 

After our non-nightcap in The Bar, we retired, setting the alarm for 11:00 AM “just in case” and awoke at 6:15, nonetheless.

 

But that is another day. Day Four in fact. Stay tuned!

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Day Four – Valletta, Malta

 

Rain. Rain. And more rain.

 

Too cheap to spend $25 per person on a Continental Breakfast of things we can’t eat anyway, we scurried off for a coffee and chicken pie (what did you expect? A croissant?) in the same sidewalk café that delighted us with last night’s Maltese Specialties, but at least they had broad umbrellas. We watched as the population scurried from canopy to overhang, and did a little of that ourselves as we visited Fort Elmo and the Market. We bypassed the Co-Cathedral when we noticed the 8-euro admission charge. Why do Catholics always charge admission? Because of the never-ending restoration projects required to maintain the excesses they installed in their countess churches in the past two millennia? Just sayin’. I mean, the British had a chance to cleanse this place for 150 years; hadn’t they seen The Tudors on TV yet?

 

And so we have “done” Malta. Final impression? It’s a rock. A very historic rock with three passable beaches, a very proud people who have defended democracy bravely and in the process learned to speak a very unusual language. And now, for us at least, it’s time to move on.

 

On, to our beautiful Sea Dream II, in harbour awaiting our arrival (and 108 other passengers on this sold-out voyage). The rain has stopped, the sun is shining brilliantly again, let’s board!

 

Embarkation is always so elegantly seamless with Sea Dream Yacht Club. You are alone when your cab drops you off, a single passport control officer looks over your documents and invites you leave your luggage in the corner and proceed directly on board. There, the Captain himself, and his senior officers, welcome you aboard with jokes about how much better Sea Dream II is than Sea Dream I (the twin sister we were on in March), and we are invited to rest a bit with champagne and sarnies a moment until we escorted to the desk for a private check-in, photo id, and welcome. Our cabin butler stands behind us and then escorts us directly to our cabin. Our luggage arrives shortly, but we are long gone from the cabin before then, because we know what’s on Deck Six:

 

The Top of the Yacht Bar!

 

All new staff to us. Roland from Hungary is master of the ship, as far as we are concerned. At least, he’s the major domo of bartenders aboard, and he knows that R is a Sparkling Man, so he gets a glass of champers every time he turns a corner. I, on the other hand, am much more flexible. Meaning: I’ll drink anything. So, Roland has provided his favourite, an Appletini, and mine, Caiparinha, and then invented his own, which we have now named Hungarian Rhapsody. So, if there is anything I write after this, blame Roland.

 

After the sea’s shortest safety demonstration, we returned to the general meeting area for a briefing by the Cruise Director and the Captain and were introduced to projection screens of nautical maps with large red botches looming in the centre of the Mediterranean Sea, representing waves up to 22 feet – right in our path. Which makes it easy to convince us of the wisdom of our Captain in changing course, and entirely skipping the planned stop in Tunisia, replacing it with Corsica the day after tomorrow. From here, he points out, we can cross the looming red blotches horizontally rather than vertically, and he assures us it will be a lot of fun. For him.

 

Well, that was reason enough to return to the bar!

 

After a few drinks topside delaying our arrival at the dining area (inside, tonight), we were unable to have a table for two. However, two ladies behind us in line quickly volunteered to join us, and the two couples behind them as well. Suddenly we had a table for eight and – being all properly pre-lubed for the occasion, we were instant best friends. It is, as R often describes Sea Dream experience, like a 9-day house party and it’s already begun!

 

That is, until I discovered She was a Republican! From that moment, I decided to call her “Sarah” and it degenerated from there. Quickly.

 

We went back up to the Top of the Yacht, but the booze had settled nicely, completely removing all inhibitions, and shame. “Wait for me, R,” I called, as Sarah and I walked up the stairs. “I’ve got a Teabagger on my arm!”

 

And so the evening ended: Sarah defending her Teabagger Notions, and me realizing I’ve had quite enough of the Hungarian Rhapsody for one evening. G’nite all.

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@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } Day Five – Trapani, Sicily

 

Jetlag.

 

Up around 4AM, and 5AM, and 6AM, and … Somewhere in the middle of that R slipped out to do a few minutes on the treadmill … and by the time we finally gave up trying to get any sleep it was 11:30AM. By now, we’ve missed breakfast, which even on SeaDream has its limits: There is a 30-minute break between meals, during which starving passengers have no choice but to order room service.

 

We decided we’d rather explore the day’s port so we left the ship, with at least three crewmembers following us, insisting that they could find us something to eat despite the hour. The service level on Sea Dream never ceases to impress.

 

A beautiful day in a beautiful corner of Sicily: Trapani. It’s Sunday, and everything, including the noted cathedral of San Lorenzo is closed. But it’s a nice day for a walk, and SeaDream II is docked right in the Old Town. We do enjoy a coffee on one of the rare outdoor cafes that is open, and although determined to enjoy some authentic Sicilian cuisine for lunch, can find no one serving more than pastries, and return to the ship for lunch, then back to walk around a bit more. Terribly convenient!

 

This is supposed to be a cruise review, so I should mention the ship at least in passing. It’s so familiar to us, as we were on its twin sister, SeaDream I, in March in the Caribbean. R has recognized a couple of the crew who have switched over in the meantime, but by and large it’s all new people in the same mold: pleasant, eager to please, and downright fun to be around.

 

Our cabin, at 195 square feet, this time is half the size of last trip. For this one, our cabin is roughly divided into thirds. The first third is the bathroom and closet area at the door; middle third is a sofa, desk and entertainment centre; and at the window is the bed with a vanity that serves now as a second desk for us. There is a heavy curtain between the bed and sofa areas, which enables R to get up earlier and work with minimal disturbance to his sleepyhead spouse. Last time we had a Commodore Suite, which simply removes the third of the demising wall and vanity/desk at the foot of the bed, and opens into a mirror-image cabin on the other side, replacing that bed with a dining room table. In addition to the luxury of extra space, it’s nice to have two bathrooms!

 

There are no balconies on SeaDream, as you really do tend to spend a lot more time on deck. The only beef so far is the Internet, which last time was very good and this time is sporadic and downright painful. The Concierge tells us that they are “fixing it” and that it was completely down for the last voyage. This is becoming a major issue with us, as we require a fast and reliable connection in order to continue to work. Thank God for Ian and colleague Rosemary, back in Toronto and executing all the tasks that keep us in the style to which I’ve grown accustomed.

 

There are only 55 couples aboard, maximum, and it’s all very casual. Even though it’s quite “high end,” you never feel that anyone is too high-falutin’ for us common folk. And whereas there was one other gay couple on board in the Caribbean, we are quite possibly the only one on this sailing, and it’s certainly not been an issue.

 

The demographic is similar to the Caribbean cruise, with perhaps fewer Brits. There is the German contingent, who pretty much stick to themselves, and we’ve met a Norwegian couple, several Americans and even two or three Canadian couples. Average age is probably a young 60, fairly fit, no kids. English is the official language.

 

The food is wonderful, of course. And almost all beverages are included, and plentiful. There is a separate wine list for dinner if one wishes to order something other than what the sommelier has selected. Last night, a debate ensued over this issue, as there were wines in that list that were as little as $24 a bottle (and some over $150). Why, we wondered, would anyone reject the perfectly wonderful sommelier’s choice for a $24 bottle of plonk from the special menu? Unless, of course, the sommelier’s choice was cheaper plonk, which it certainly didn’t seem to be. Perhaps the special menu is a “surcharge” for wines which are more costly than the ones included?

 

At the conclusion of last night’s dinner, I was presented with a birthday cake and crew chorus of Happy Birthday, and when we returned to our cabin it was filled with huge balloons, one of which just exploded spontaneously as I am writing this the next morning. Certainly happy that didn’t happen in the night!

 

Speaking of birthdays (mine was actually last weekend), I’ve really been enjoying my iPad on this trip. Thanks, R! I’ve been using the e-book reader every day and even watched a movie I downloaded for rent before we left Victoria; iTunes allows you 30 days to “open” a rental video, and then 48 hours to watch it.

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Today was not a good day for the crew of SeaDream II. Or for any of the passengers on Deck 2.

 

Sometime in the early morning hours, Deck 2 filled with water. Passengers slipping out of bed for a nocturnal walk to the toilet were greeted with wet feet and spongy carpet – and a sense of immediate panic. The last thing you want to find in your cabin on a boat is water up to your ankles!

 

Quicker thinking passengers took a quick taste and were reassured it was not salt water. A water main had broken and – well, it was a mess. The boat is at capacity so no one can move. There was, apparently, one cabin with SeaDream head office staff aboard, so they have been moved to bunk in with the crew on Deck One (but isn’t it even wetter down there? No one is talking about that!), so that the full-fare passengers in the worst drenched cabin could move to a dry one. The vacuums are busy sucking the carpet dry, and I noticed a pile of mattresses and cabin furniture in the dining salon this morning awaiting special treatment.

 

Those of us on Decks 3 and 4 are high and dry and the sail goes on. Perhaps we’ll get more gossip at dinnertime, but from our vantage point, it is all being handled almost routinely. The crew admits to having been All Hands On Deck from a very early hour, but no one is complaining.

 

We spent most of the day sailing into Corsica, along the coast of Sardinia. A very brisk, yea, cold even, morning, with more pitching than I’m used to, but not enough to cause anyone distress that I noticed. My distress is clearly of my own making, last night I fear.

 

Arriving off the limestone cliffs of Bonifacio, we turned stern-first and backed into the tiny harbour. Looked a bit like the more familiar Portofino Bay, or perhaps Sorrento, but much tighter fit. There is no room to turn the boat around once in, thus the back-in process. The bay is so shallow there is only about three feet of clearance underwater between our draft and seabed. The best part (in addition to the absolutely stunning views) is that we are tied up to dock, and no tendering is required. This makes is so easy and tempting to come and go, which I think we’ll do again for dinner. We’re docking overnight here, giving us extra time to explore the area.

 

R’s Twitter description (of 140 characters or less): “Bonifacio, Corsica, is a fascinating mix of France, Italy, Shangri-La, medieval in character with Med overtones.” Couldn’t have said it better.

 

Our resolve not to drink this evening was destroyed again by Roland. And in the process, we finally met the other gay guys on the boat, Norwegians who had been discretely ignoring us. Nice guys. They are all “just friends” it appears. Uh huh….

 

An update on the Deck 2 flooding is surprising, in a good way. It seems the ship carries extra carpet and furniture in cargo, and it’s already been replaced where required. Amazing.

 

We did keep our promise to eat off the ship and out of the dangerous milieu of waiters and sommeliers who just don’t know how to stop pouring. We ate at the Kissing Pig restaurant on the dock. Started with a hot cheese fondue that removed the roof of J’s mouth, and followed with fillet mignon and pork chops that were quite excellent, I’m told. Topped off with a complimentary shot of Cognac on the way out and we quite literally tumbled out of the door back to the sheltering comfort of SeaDream II.

 

I think we’re safer on board.

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It didn’t start at sea, although we thought it might end IN the sea. But I am getting ahead of myself.

 

Up early and into the quayside section of Bonifacio, to an Internet café, where we set up and worked for four hours. This has been a frustration on board this trip, the inability to get Sabre up and running for any more than a couple of seconds. The bandwidth has been severely restricted even for Internet browsing, with only very low resolution graphics coming through. Skype, our usual international money saver, is also useless. However, the Internet café was easy and fast, and we even got a chance to see a YouTube of Joy and Whoopi walking off The View.

 

Back for a light lunch, and to take a couple pills they were dispensing for the upcoming seas, while the Captain announces we are leaving for Mahon, Menorca (Spain), at 1:30PM. We are told that when we get out of the protective bay, it will get a bit bumpy, and in fact, will continue to get worse until about 3:00 AM. “I won’t say ‘rough,’ but I will say ‘uncomfortable,’” he promises. But, hey, how bad can it be?

 

Bad. Very bad.

 

Just to see how many hearty souls wanted to share the first few bumps, we climbed hand-over-hand to the Top of the Yacht Bar, looked down to the second deck to watch what had now become our own personal wave pool, and then retreated to our cabin for the afternoon, and night. I did venture out once to get a room service menu from the concierge, when we heard a huge crash, sounding like the entire adjacent Main Salon bar had collapsed upon itself, but it was from the deck below; never did find out what it was.

 

Ordered some light sandwiches and cheese platter. It was one thing to keep them down; it was quite impossible to keep the plates and silver on the table. We tucked glassware into pillow bolsters and the teapot into the bathroom sink, surrounded with towels, and tried to tuck ourselves into bed.

 

I can’t admit to actually falling out of bed (though others did, the next morning), but it was an all-night struggle to prevent that. Every heave and roll was countered with an automatic muscle flexing here or there in an attempt to stay in one place. I tucked a pillow on the side of the bed to give a certain bounce-back effect. And instead of avoiding the crack between the beds, we were fighting for it, as the natural cavity there was the only place you felt secure.

 

Punctuate this with a closet or cabinet door flying open every once in while, and an occasional bang against the hull as if we had touched bottom suddenly. The waves were 25 feet so it wasn’t the seabed; it was just the sea itself that we were crashing against.

 

Sometime, shortly before 3AM, the heaves subsided to rolls and we managed to collapse into sleep.

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We ventured out after The Night to Remember, into the Dining Salon for breakfast. Even James, our Cruise Director, admits that it was the worst he’s ever experienced, and he’s been with SeaDream since before it was SeaDream. But spirits are high, and already the night is being translated into exaggerated tales of terror and bravado.

 

In a strange irony, while we are all giving the “Never again!” threats, our cabin stewardess is placing “Save Now and Buy Your Next Cruise” brochures on our freshly restored bed. Surely that could have waited a day or two?

 

We had cancelled our previously arranged rental car in Mahon because we couldn’t find the office’s location on a map. Turned out it was a good thing, because it was at the opposite end of the island, in Ciutadella. Instead we climbed the longest flight of stairs I’ve ever seen in a city centre to the Plaza Espana, where a rental car company happily obliged us, and we were off, visiting the coastal resorts along the way, and a wander around the historic old town of Ciutadella, and lunch in a noted seafood restaurant there, Café Balear.

 

We were quite impressed with Menorca in general. I had never even heard of the place before this trip. Delighted to discover that the main town, Mahon, has given us a very familiar word for a sauce from there: mayonnaise.

 

We returned the car in the afternoon and found an accommodating restaurant with WiFi, set up shop and did a couple hours of work.

 

By the time we returned to the ship we were ready for a drink, but found all the bars closed except for the Main Salon, which was packed with everyone watching an authentic flamenco demonstration. There we found two empty bar stools in the corner where we could swig amid the din.

 

James took the stage when the stamping died down to tell us about last night. It was a Force 7 gale, which Beaufort translates as winds up to 60 km/h and waves up to 19 feet. Apparently, SeaDream II has been in one and only one worse moment, when a Rue wave of 25 feet hit the ship and wiped out the zodiac and all of the mountain bikes stored on that side. But never has it endured 12 hours of it before, as we did.

 

Despite that, there were 40 people who were in the dining room for dinner accompanied by crashing glassware. The kitchen reported a record number of room service orders, however. For most of us, it was a serious impediment to our drinking time, and we were determined to catch up tonight.

 

Meanwhile, as a reminder to ourselves that we are (or at least R is) always working, he has just received an email from a very important client (okay, they are all very important clients) reporting that not only did she not get the Virtuoso upgrade as expected when she checked into her New York hotel, when she opened her room door, there was a man standing stark naked with a very surprised look on his face. A flurry of phone calls and emails and we manage to reach the General Manager at the hotel, and all is resolved. Interestingly, instead of charging extra for this unique Man-In-Your-Room service, they simply gave her a free stay. And removed the man.

 

And that’s about all I remember of Menorca.

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Welcome back to SD Cruisers1975!

 

I just finished reading about your adventures!! My goodness is sounds like you really have had quite a time of it but are weathering it quite well:p I saw some photos of the seas from one of my SD friends on a Facebook page from the early part of Day 7:eek: The waves looked quite ... um .... interesting:eek:

 

So how many weeks will you be on SD? What other lines will you cruise? Please be sure to provide us a link so we can follow along!

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We will be on this cruise total of nine days, getting off in Lisbon. From there, we'll go to Madrid and then Edinburgh, before returning to the Continent at Basel for a Uniworld Cruise to Amsterdam. Yes, we'll link you on over to Uniworld then, if anyone wants to follow us. The last of the three cruises will be from Miami on Celebrity. Actually, if you count the 90-min ferry on the luxurious BC Ferry from Victoria to Vancouver, it will be four cruises in 5 weeks.

 

Tough job, eh? But someone has to do it. Glad it's us!

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Wow - what a wonderfully detailed (and entertaining) report, Cruisers1975!!

 

Talk about an adventure!! :eek: Love your sense of humor - and your perspective - about the flooding and all the rocking and rolling that went on. Just one more excuse to hit the TOYBAR afterwards, right? (Although who really needs a 'excuse' to be there in the first place? :D).

 

Thanks again for taking the time to post your review.

 

CDreamer

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We will be on this cruise total of nine days, getting off in Lisbon. From there, we'll go to Madrid and then Edinburgh, before returning to the Continent at Basel for a Uniworld Cruise to Amsterdam. Yes, we'll link you on over to Uniworld then, if anyone wants to follow us. The last of the three cruises will be from Miami on Celebrity. Actually, if you count the 90-min ferry on the luxurious BC Ferry from Victoria to Vancouver, it will be four cruises in 5 weeks.

 

Tough job, eh? But someone has to do it. Glad it's us!

 

Sounds like a wonderful way to see the world and spend 5 weeks! Just don't know how I would be able to pack that long (even with using the laundry service):p

 

Now you bring our SD2 safe and sound to Lisbon for her scheduled dry dock before we bring her back across the pond in just under three weeks!

 

Great posts! It will be interesting to see what you think of Uniworld. I have been on both, and if I had a choice, I would do Uniworld FIRST!! :D :D

 

Host Dan

 

I really would love to try a river cruise on Uniworld but DJ's DH says we are too young:eek:

 

I agree with other posters Crusiers1975 that I love your reporting style and sense of humor. Please keep up the good work!!

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Aw gee, you are all so very kind. Not at all like the reception we got when reviewing our one and only (ever, I promise!!) HAL cruise in January on this board. My goodness, the venom of naive loyalty on THAT forum! But how could you not love SD?

 

Oops! Gotta run. They've just announced the obligatory Napkin Folding and Towel Origami classes. (We are on a Day At Sea right now ... my reports are a day behind posting because R needs to censor yesterday's first, to protect our home and family from libel charges.)

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Day Nine – Palma, Mallorca (Spain)

 

Up early this morning, for there is a lot to do and see in very little time. We have a car rental pre-arranged and a map, so we toss our computers and chargers and converters and mice and water bottles and sweaters and notebooks into a bag and off we get – into a beautifully modern and totally deserted port terminal and nothing that looks remotely like anything on our map.

 

We walk, and walk, and walk, toward what looks like a populated area of the world. We eventually find a gardener, present him with our map and ask, “¿Donde estamos?” to which he replied something totally unintelligible, but pointed thataway, in which direction we walked for a mile before finding ascending house numbers in the 40s, when we were looking for 19. So we retraced our steps, cast an unfriendly glare at the gardener as we passed him, and continued.

 

Each building in Mallorca has a number. Makes sense, but sometimes the buildings are a block long. It takes a long time to get from 45 to 43, for example, if Number 44 is a strip mall in between!

 

Four miles later, lugging our laptops etc., we get to Number 19, and the EuropCar office. Here we find Michael, the world record holder for Slowest Counter Clerk in a Rental Car Office. Eventually, we are presented with a Fiat Panda, one of the smallest cars I’ve ever driven, but at least it goes, and so do we, off to Valldemossa, clearly the most beautiful little village in the world, and then to La Residencia, an Orient-Express resort (“we don’t use the word ‘hotel’ here”) in Deia, across the island, where we have lodged many clients to their great delight. Very well justified delight, indeed. Clearly, we need to return to Mallorca for a week or so. You just can’t do it justice in a few hours.

 

We made a quick stop or two at some of the more traditional (older) coastal resort areas on the way back, S'Arenal and Platja de Palma – both dismally disappointing. If there were a port, this is where Costa would dock.

 

But our few hours were running out and we need to reserve a couple of them for an Internet Café before returning to the WiFi near-dead zone of our cabin. We park the car across from EuropCar, as instructed, during their “siesta” time between 1 and 4 pm. Of course, we do a complete check of the car, making sure we have all our belongings, before I drop the keys down the after (between?) hours key drop slot, as I ask Roger, “Did you lock it?”

 

His response was not printable.

 

And the car cannot be locked without the electronic key.

 

Fortunately, we have time to wait, and who in their right mind would steal a Fiat Panda? So we proceed to the Internet Café, and at 4 pm I walk back to ensure that Michael sees his Panda safely back in its cage.

 

We wisely take a cab back to the port, which by this time is crowded with mega-ships from the tawdry lower classes. A huge MSC Fantasia (3900 passengers, packed into 333 meters total length) is in dock, alongside RCCL’s Adventure of the Seas (3114 passengers, 311m) and Costa’s Concordia (3700 passengers, 290m). And alongside our little SeaDream II (108 passengers, 104m), is Limitless (96m), a private yacht owned by Leslie Wexner, owner of The Limited and Victoria’s Secret, and Pelorus (115 m), one of three yachts owned by Roman Abramovich. “Mallorca” is Spanish for “shipping magnet.”

 

Sailaway at 6PM, the massive Cathedral, and our chance of seeing it up close, fading into the distance. We’ll be back, Mallorca!

 

Meanwhile, it’s already cocktail hour (which on SeaDream starts just before sunrise, and ends when the last passenger gives up). For dinner, we join some of the Canadian, South African and Scottish couples we’ve met for a new table of eight. I like that, ever-changing, always welcoming.

 

Two couples we know took advantage of the free mountain bikes on board, and biked all the seaside of Palma. Being coastal, it’s pretty level and easy biking, with dedicated bike lanes. Great feature, SeaDream!

 

Dinner tonight features an Italian theme, followed by a special event showcasing typical Spanish desserts, served not at the dinner table, but in the Main Salon. But somehow, I’m just too tired to see what a typical Spanish dessert is.

 

The day is ended. Tomorrow is on the horizon.

 

Oh no, it wasn’t. R dragged me back out for another round of drinks and desserts with our new best friends in the Main Salon, with the resident DJ that I didn’t even know we had on board. I though it was just a defective sound system, activated by a disco ball. He could be replaced with a resident sculptor for a more artistic and aurally satisfying experience. The house party continues.

 

The music actually improves when it goes on autopilot. But alas, it really is time for bed for this tired author. Tomorrow is a full day at sea, with waves anticipated at less than one metre. Ahhhhh…..

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@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } Day Ten – At sea.

 

Tough night for me. Sea was totally calm, no problem there, but I think the battling from two nights ago, flexing a back muscle with every pitch of the boat, coupled with the six-mile forced march to the car rental “did a number” on my back that only last night was surfacing.

 

I hate to flog a dead sea, but I am still not happy about the torture that we were knowingly subjected to. Perhaps it was because the Captain knew he had several changes of guests to do in Mallorca? (We were surprised to see a whole new contingent boarding there and an equal number leaving. We were consoled, however, that as none of the disembarkations were anyone we had met, it wasn’t something we said!)

 

However, by morning all is well and it’s a beautiful day on the Mediterranean off the coast of Spain. So, we tumble out of bed and head for breakfast, shared with some of our new boarders from Malaga. Suddenly, the demographic has shifted. Remember when I said “mostly fit”? Well, these ladies are not. They were complaining about the ship rocking and rolling last night as they prowled the aisles, in search of food no doubt. I bit my tongue and did not suggest that if they had simply stayed in their cabins (and ordered room service?) that the ship would not have been pitching and rolling so much?

 

As it’s a day at sea, it’s time to explore a bit of the ship and maybe, for our CruiseCritic.com readers, offer a tip or two.

 

Number One Tip: That incredibly strong magnet that holds the cabin door in an open position, and requires Herculean strength to disengage once it grips, can be moderated by putting a sock over the protuberance. In fact, as this vessel is going into dry dock for five days between our Lisbon landing and its transatlantic repositioning cruise, I suggest that to lurking SD staff as a new fitting in each cabin so afflicted.

 

Number Two Tip: Wait, for the laundry. They give you a 20% discount near the last days. Still seems a bit much to pay more to have socks washed than we spent at Costco to buy them, but that’s the penalty for packing “light.”

 

No other tips come to mind (you obviously really have to dig deep to find something to complain about), other than perhaps a suggestion that the next time you drag human cargo for twelve hours across a known Force 7 gale, you offer them the chance to jump overboard first.

 

Happily today the inexplicable shortage of bananas (their potassium replenishment value being the best hangover remedy known) has been rectified and they are reappearing, upon request.

 

We followed breakfast with a visit to the Dream Show Case [sic], wherein practitioners in the Arts and Crafts of SeaDream II displayed their talents. Napkins were folded by Werner, who has been aboard since the days of Goddess, I’m sure, and towel origami was presented by Deralin, our charming cabin stewardess. The Casino Matron was there, teaching us how to cheat at Blackjack, and Chef and his Sous were demonstrating and serving crepes in every sweet variety. Most importantly, Frank was there sampling two fine California wines.

 

The ship came to a gentle stop mid-sea, and Club Director James took to the PA to assure us that we hadn’t run out of fuel, but instead had decided to make a surprise stop to lower the Marina and water trampoline into the Med for the enjoyment of all who had no fear of the 6000-some feet that separated terra firma from breathable air. R was the first to jump in, as I stood back taking photos. As most of our fellow passengers have noticed by now, I don’t even take unnecessary showers, let alone jump into unfathomable fathoms of cold (20C) and salty waters.

 

Lunch was a barbecue today, with the most succulent of roasts and other delights. I took an embarrassingly large quantity of boned, scaled and cobbed offerings, so at the end of lunch my “empty” plate bore a sort of medieval overindulgence about it.

 

Even on SeaDream, finding a deck chair that hasn’t already been staked out by an absent German’s beach towel and a tattered copy of Der Spiegel can be difficult, but at last we found a pair in the forward deck and relaxed a moment or two before the call of work sent R back to the computer.

 

And now another reason for my back pain is surfacing: Lack of support. I just realized there is one chair in this cabin with a back, and it’s at R’s desk. I am sitting at a vanity stool that is too close to the computer screen, so the back half of my back side is on the bed as I type, and work (Yes, I also work.). The only other seating in this cabin is a sofa with a bolster across the back and two sconce-lights at each end, which make it impossible to sit at, in any normal position, unless you remove the bolsters, which I am now resolving to do, and hover in the centre section. I’ll lean the bolsters against the sconce lights so I don’t keep bumping into them (SD, are you listening? Refit coming? Kill the bolsters! Move the sconces!). Other than that, the only sitting we’ve done is at bar stools, back-less of course.

 

It’s an “Aha!” moment. My bad back is due to excessive stints at the bar(s)!

 

Of course, we can also sit in chairs with backs at mealtimes, which do seem to be contiguous. We just cleared away from lunch when it was time for tea – featuring a special exhibition of Tea Forte, those delightful pyramid-shaped tea boxes with silken tea bags within and a single leaf extending above. Never seen them? Come aboard SD!

 

And then dinner, tonight with our friends “Sarah” and her (non-romantic) partner, and a delightful couple from New Jersey, sailors and newlyweds, in their Golden Years (early 60s or so…they might be reading this someday!). No matter how “down” you feel, dinners on SD make you feel “up” again.

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@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } Day Ten – At sea.

 

. . . towel origami was presented by Deralin, our charming cabin stewardess.

 

the wonderful, all caring Deralin. Please give her our regards. And by the way, I can strongly recommend limoncello at the TOY Bar for backpain, and a banana dacquiri with a shot of kahlua poolside midmorning is a wonderful dose of potassium and caffeine:D

FT

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Thanks for another wonderful report as well as the tips Cruisers1975!

 

I learned about your mid sea day swim stop via the SeaDream blog yesterday afternoon:D I am hopeful that we will be afforded the same opportunity in the middle of the Atlantic in a few short weeks!

 

Looking forward to another entertaining report!

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[Just noticed I left out a few letters in an earlier quick reply to Frequent Traveler, rendering a post that looked like it was direct from the TOYBAR. I meant to say: "I will, give Deralin your regards. Will she know who 'frequent traveler' is?"]

 

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

 

 

Day Eleven (October 24) – Malaga.

 

Rather uneventful day today, other than our own side trip to Marbella Club for a site inspection. The pre-arranged driver was at the wrong door of the cruise terminal as the massive Noordam and Adventure of the Seas were disgorging their payloads, so it took a while to locate him. We had his cell phone, and he ours, but that availed us naught, as he could only say, “¿Hola? ¿Hola?” He turned the phone over to a bystander who apparently spoke English, but couldn’t understand English or my Spanish, and insisted instead on simply yelling louder and faster.

 

As the crowds thinned, we eventually located him at the “Boarding” (rather than “Arrivals”) door and took a frosty trip to the resort.

 

Arrival there, however, was a delightful experience. Their PR director, Meghan, was expecting us and had set out an elegant spread of champagne, smoked salmon and Serrano ham, and then escorted us around the truly magnificent property.

 

The same driver, by now properly scolded and schooled on the return route we wanted to take, drove us through Torremolinos, another costal resort town, for a quick visual, and then back to the boat just in time for lunch, and our 2PM departure, followed by a relaxing afternoon on the Bali Beds watching the Costa del Sol and the Rock of Gibraltar glide by.

 

We actually had no choice but to laze around all afternoon reading; can’t do any real work. The lack of decent Internet service is really becoming tedious, and will preclude our ever returning on this or any other cruise ship so crippled. It has been rumored by other passengers that Sea Dream II was never up to snuff in that area, and will be fitted with upgraded WiFi in the upcoming dry-dock period between our Lisbon arrival and the upcoming transatlantic crossing.

 

Ah, but that peevish little snit is quickly forgotten by dinnertime. We ask Enes to seat us at a big table, and send us whoever looks like fun. He does. We are joined first by our South African friends, the male partner of which has no social filter at all and keeps us in embarrassed stitches all night. Then a fresh acquaintance of a Canadian couple, from Toronto, which makes us realize that at least 10% of this sailing is Canadian. And finally, our New York friends, with whom we had shared my birthday dinner earlier.

 

Tonight was the Menu Degustation, being seven small courses, each of which was of course a genuine delight, visually as well as gastronomically. The wine was flowing so freely that I lost all restraint and even enjoyed the dessert course while R looked longingly at his Grand Marnier Soufflé and held back despite enjoying his champagne diet.

 

Further lack of restraint was exhibited by all as we ascended to the Top of Yacht Bar (TOYBAR) and Roland there served up a gallon-sized “Cable car” cocktail in one huge martini glass garnished with ten straws. Couple that with a bevy of single female UK travel agents. Enough said.

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What is a "Cable Car?" I can only imagine how huge that martini glass must be to hold 10 straws!

 

The speed of the internet has been something DJ's DH and I have mentioned on our SD Comment Cards. I'm glad to hear (and hope the rumor is true) that they are addressing the issue and adding WIFI before we cross the Atlantic in almost two weeks. Hopefully we won't have issues with connectivity as I can't imagine DJ's DH, FT (Frequent Traveler) and ctbjr being totally disconnected from work:eek:

 

Thanks again for your report!

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