Oh, Cinders! You Shall Go To The Ball… An NCL Getaway Diary

[JakTar]

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…

 

[schmoopie17]

12 minutes ago, JakTar said:

“In case of emergency, please follow the erections of the crew.” What?

 

Sometimes you need a crew "member" to point the way.

 

Great review, by the way. You turn a phrase quite nicely, old (?) chap.

 

Edited November 17, 2023 by schmoopie17

[schmoopie17]

@JakTartook the time and effort to write an extremely thorough (and entertaining) review and it is already at the end of the second page of threads with only one comment (mine).

 

It deserves a much wider audience, so I am bumping it back to the first page,,,for now, at least.

[FitchburgWIFamily]

Thank you so much for your wonderful review.  I knew you were my people at “Travelers [sic]”

[ggTexasGal]

@JakTar Thank you for your well-done review!  I had quite a few laughs!!!

As stated above, (Thank you @schmoopie17) it is extremely thorough and entertaining.

[DrUrsula]

We were on this cruise with you. Thanks for the memories!

[nhtravels]

Entertaining review!  Thanks for sharing!

[lepidoptera]

Thanks so much for a fantastic review. Your writing style made for a great read. Sounds like a lovely cruise. 

[sansroof]

That was a fun read and brought back some memories, as someone who was on this sailing with you.  We actually won the visual beer trivia on the first day - no prize though, sadly!

[FredZiffle]

I can't believe the Getaway is still offering that silly Brazilian Portuguese lecture.  It was bad enough that we had it heading to Portugal since Brazilian Portuguese has numerous differences from the language spoken in Portugal.  The class was also pretty useless because she taught things like the names of various colors instead of phrases we could use ashore.  NCL has one staff member from Brazil, and I guess she is still on board.