Christmas Cruise 2012 - The Morning Mists of Gothenburg

It was 9.30am before Oceana berthed at Gothenburg in Sweden.  I'd been able to watch our approach from my balcony as we glided gently through the archaepeligo of tiny islands.  It was FREEZING cold, quite literally, and even by the time we docked the temperature had only reached 0 degrees.  But it was the sort of morning I love - cold and crisp with a hint of magic in the air.  Oh, if only it had been snowing - but then I mustn't expect too much.  I filled my tummy with a huge bowl of porridge sprinkled liberally with sunflower seeds, flaked almonds and a trickle of maple syrup.  Now I was ready to start the day.

An extra layer of clothes was called for so over everything else I donned a large duvet type waistcoat which I'd bought on my last trip to Hong Kong.  The new angora hat which I had found in Bruges completed the outfit.  I skipped down the gangway and jumped in front of the ships photographers who were standing there shivering with cold - then it was onto the shuttle bus for the 30 minute journey into the centre of town.  My lasting impression of that drive will be one of snowdrops - not flowers decorating the banks but huge street lights with lampshades which looked just like the flowers of those little bulbs.  Quite how these strange images and ideas pop into my mind I have no idea.

As we drove to our "drop point" the driver pointed out the main shopping district near King Gustav Square and then the major department store.  We alighted a little further along the street.  The shopping district did nothing to entice me so I headed off in the opposite direction to a small park by the side of a narrow canal.  The canal was totally frozen over, hurrah, at last I felt as if I was in a Scandinavian country - but, cripes, the cobbled pathway was also frozen and my damn boots which I thought would be slip proof were far from it.  I skidded and slid all over the place.  Walking was going to be very difficult - the last thing I wanted to do was to slip and end up breaking a leg !!  I ventured on very gingerly but thankfully when I reached the footpaths within the park I found they were of a rough tarmac and just a little easier to walk on. 

After 45 minutes or so I found myself opposite that main department store which had been pointed out to us and there on the ground floor was a coffee shop.  Hot chocolate was definitely the order of the day and in here it came with marshmallows - how decadent did I feel !  Purchasing a drink had the dual purpose of providing me with some much needed change in order to use the loo - yes, even in the department store a coin was necessary to use the facilities.  After the hot drink I headed off - here was the sign to the Toilett and the first door was clearly marked in both Swedish and English - it was the Men's.  I took a few more steps towards the next door and expected to see Ladies after the Swedish word but it said Knivven.  Oh dear, was this the Ladies? Was it a store cupboard? Was it something else?  I had no idea but I had no option but to push the door and see.  I've had very embarrassing incidents in the past when I've walked into a broom cupboard etc. instead of the required loo so anything is possible when I'm left on my own!!  When I peeked inside, thankfully, I found a queue of ladies and as there was a queue I didn't need the little coin because as one lady came out she held the door open for the next.  Very courteous.

Now in a comfortable state I headed off once more in search of adventure.  This time I went in the opposite direction along the little canal and found myself at the entrance to Tradgardsforeningen (The Garden Society).  The small iron gate was pushed open a few inches and a sign indicated that the garden was open until 1700 hours.  I entered and within a few minutes found myself in a Magical Misty world.  It was one of those mists which gently swirls around a few feet off the ground giving everything a magical appearance.  I glanced towards the trees - bare of leaves - and saw the winter sun wrapped in another icy mist.  It was desperately trying to break through but the ice had it in its grip.  This was a photographer's paradise - but I'm only a "would be" photographer so how on earth was I going to capture these visions of loveliness.  I wandered around in a trance taking photo after photo.  Would they convey what I had seen - the young mothers with pushchairs catching up on news after the Christmas break - the family huddled up in winter clothes heading off home - the incredibly beautiful metal flowers setting off the winter grass - the eerie statues in the mist.  Oh so many wonderful sights.

It is sights like this which make holidays SO enjoyable and so memorable.  This ranks alongside the very best I have such as the sun dawning on beautiful Langkawi; climbing the great wall of China; standing beneath those wonderful Egyptian pyramids; wandering around the Valley of the Kings in scorching heat; and not to forget the exquisite turquiose colours of Guam.

I headed back to the ship in a daze.  I had only seen a tiny portion of this lovely city but it has made a lasting impression on me.  After lunch I returned to my cabin to rest my legs for a few minutes - but the tiredness caught up with me and I drifted off to sleep.  The next thing I knew it was 5pm and time to shower and dress for dinner.  It was Curry Night in The Plaza and there was no way I was going to resist the Chicken Tikka Masala and all the trimmimgs.  I would leave my fellow dinner companions to sample the everyday fare in the formal surrounds of The Adriatic Restaurant.  What a delicious curry and it was followed by a hot pudding from the Kerala district in Southern India.  I can't remember the name of the dish but it was vermicelli & cashew nuts cooked in coconut milk infused with cardamon.  Every mouthful was like a little bit of heaven.  The chef was delighted when I told him how good it was !!

So just one more day at sea before another lovely cruise comes to an end at Southampton.

Christmas Cruise 2012 - Copenhagen, the City of David and the Little Mermaid

P & O have organised a shuttle bus service at this port.  It's about a 30 - 40 minute walk into town so having the option of jumping onto a shuttle bus is much appreciated.  The temperature here is very much colder - down to 3 Celsius - so I added a few more layers today.  Again I was one of the first down the gangway but my fellow passengers were none to happy when they heard that all the shops in town were closed because it was Boxing Day.  What did they expect !  The bus dropped us at Kings Square and I headed off towards the upper canal which I hoped would provide a few photo opportunities.  I thought it an absolute privilege to be given the opportunity of walking the streets whilst they were deserted instead of being packed with shoppers.

I spent an hour walking along the canal path and was delighted to see that the water was just beginning to freeze.  Ducks could be seen sitting on small ice flows instead of paddling about in the water.  I suppose in a few more weeks the entire canal could be frozen.  I shared the path with a few joggers desperate to shake off the pounds which they must have added to their weight on Christmas Day.  Apart from that everywhere was deserted.

It was back to Oceana for lunch - another chicken curry which I just can't get enough of.

In the afternoon I decided to take the shuttle into Town and then make my way back to the ship via the walkway along the front.  It was still very cold but the walk proved refreshing and invigorating.  As I turned one corner I was greeted with the most delightful sight of a fully naked David declaring to the world that this was his place.  He welcomed the female tourists who seemed to delight in standing at his feet to have their photos taken with him.  I stood patiently, knowing that if I waited long enough I would get David all to myself for just a few minutes.  The wait was well worth it.

Further along I came to St. Alban's Anglican Church, perched on the side of small canal, and still further on was the sight that everyone comes to Copenhagen to see - the Little Mermaid.  She is tiny - as all the best things in life are - but she glistened provocatively on her rock and as the breeze caressed my ear I heard her whisper "be patient little butterfly".

Christmas Cruise 2012 - Amsterdam, City of Cycles, Canals and Sin

Again the day dawned wet and windy but that was not going to stop me rushing down the gangplank as I was ready for another adventure in yet another city.  I picked up a map in the Cruise Terminal and enquired where I was in relation to the city centre.  The way into Town was pointed out to me - along the front, turn left at Central Station, under the bridge, turn right and from there I could go in any direction I wanted.  Off I set at a brisk pace.

I got to the designated spot and wondered what direction to head in.  There were a couple of very large thoroughfares and one very narrow, small road.  Why take the major roads when there is a tantalising narrow passageway - that always seems to be my motto and once again perhaps I should have thought twice before heading off into the unknown.  It was a really interesting little street and those that lived there seemed to be just waking up to start their day.  There were little souvenir shops here and there, a shop with super Venetian Masks and a very lovely lingerie shop.  Then I started noticing the sex shops and by the time I got to "Durty Nelly's Irish Pub" I realised that I had walked slap bang into the centre of the Red Light District. Cripes, no wonder I was getting some peculiar looks.  I took the next turning on the right and headed out into the main thoroughfare and back to normality.

I really wanted to head for the canals to take some photos so headed off down other side streets and across bridges.  There were bicycles absolutely everywhere.  Every single bridge and canalside walk was full of them - all chained up ready for their owners to come and claim them.  In London they would have been nicked in no time at all.  Bicycles with large baskets on the front were also in abundance and many of these were used by mother's for transporting their children around.  It was quite fascinating just standing at a corner and watching how different life was here to that in the UK.

It was back to the ship for a quick bite of lunch and then I headed out for another couple of hours walking the streets of Amsterdam.  I headed for the canal area again but this time I noticed that curtains in the basement flats had been pulled back.  I was well away from the Red Light District by now but would you believe it - the windows contained ladies dressed in their sexy undies trying to tempt their next client of the day.  When we had docked this morning  our Captain had said that the Ladies of the Night also operated during the day - but I hadn't expected to fall across it so easily!

Another very satisfying and tiring day for this would be photographer.

Christmas Cruise 2012 - The Naked Ladies of Bruges

The day dawned wet and windy as Oceana berthed at Zeebrugga.  I hopped down the gangway at 9.30 and headed for the coach which was to take me into the city for the "Bruges on your own" excursion - a 7 hour day.  I was part of Tour Group No 11 and donned the necessary sticker as I boarded.  Our guide was Vivienne and although her only duty was to drop us off in the city centre and give us strict instructions on the time we were to meet for our homeward journey she went a step further - Vivienne actually gave us our own 30 minute mini guide within the medieval city which was extremely useful in helping me to get my bearings.

Then we were on our own and I headed straight for an oldie worldie patisserie on the main market square.  I treated myself to a hot chocolate which came with an inch of cream on the top!  The last time I had cream was in the Blue Mountains in Australia in 2009 so this was a real treat.

The rain held off for a little in the afternoon and I took myself off for a walk along the canals which was really relaxing.  I crossed one bridge filled with crowds of people all looking down into the murky canal.  Had somebody fallen in?  No - I discovered that it was a Christmas event where those who were foolhardy enough went for a winter's swim in the freezing cold water.  The Serpentine swim would be our equivalent.  I then headed for the markets and mooched around the stalls.  To my delight I found that lovely hats were on sale at some of the stalls.  I had a great 15 minutes trying them all on before deciding on a cool green number! 

The courtyard of The Belfry was my next stop because I knew this was one of the few places which had a public loo (apart from visiting yet another patisserie and having another hot chocolate).  To my surprise on entering the courtyard I was met with the sight of some 20 little naked ladies all looking skyward.  What an artistic display.  I had much fun with my camera and wondered what the ladies were thinking and why they were looking skyward  -  in my mind they were thinking "One day my prince will come"!

On the way back to the square where I was to pick up the coach I stumbled across a local nativity parade.  It was wonderful – the townsfolk all dressed up and parading along.  The shepherds had a huge flock of woolly sheep which kept trying to dart off the road into the crowd, then came the Three Kings on very large sturdy carthorses, then came Joseph, Mary and the little baby.  They were followed by what I presume where the Town’s Burgers and the procession ended with a tractor pulling a trailer on which was an old man playing what I can only describe as a “fence” of bells.  It was really very, very good and quite unexpected.

I was back at the meeting point rather early so wandered round the shops in the square.  To my delight I found a boutique shop specialising in hats.  Oh dear this really is a weakness of mine.  Another 30 minutes spent trying on hats and this time I was tempted by a little dark blue number in angora wool - a LOT more expensive than the creation I had found in the market.

And so it was back to the ship - cold, wet and tired but very satisfied with the day

The Magical Mystery Cruise - Leisurely Lisbon

 

The bow of the ship was crowded at dawn as Oceana glided up the Tagus River and under the April 25^th. Bridge into Lisbon.  I had been really excited in April 2009 when I had sailed into this port for the first time on Arcadia.  This time I knew what to expect but it was still a thrill wondering whether the highest point of the ship really would pass underneath without hitting anything! We passed through safely but then for some reason did experience minor problems when it came to tying up at Quay do Tobaco.

This morning I needed to head off to the western part of the city in search of the Jardim do Estrela where apparently the English Cemetery could be found.  Trying to pick up the names of the tiny streets on a tourist map is virtually an impossibility so I just walked west along the promenade hoping that at some point I would be able to identify a main road on the map.  Old trams whizzed by me and at one point I heard the strains of “Jingle Bells”.  I looked up to see one of the trams being driven by Santa himself – the tram was full of young children having a whale of a time.

Eventually I reached a train station and having managed to locate this on the map I was then able to head off uphill towards the Basilica dos Estrela and the Gardens.  On the way I passed the main Government buildings and to my horror noticed that there was a large demonstration in progress in the square outside.  Police were stationed at every street corner and I began to worry that perhaps they might close the roads off as had been the case in Athens.  I pushed the thought to the back of my mind – lets try to find the cemetery first.

I struggled on uphill and there before me was the Basilica with the entrance to the gardens just opposite.  The gardens were very peaceful and I wandered round them about three times before admitting to myself that the cemetery was not to be found.   A group of cleaners stood leaning on their brooms and chatting so I wandered over and with my very best Portuguese accent asked for “Cemeterio dos Ingleses”.  For once somebody understood my question and I was immediately directed outside the garden and across the road. 

I stood outside the high walls and looked at a sign indicating that I had found the Anglican Church of St. George and the English Cemetery.  Thank goodness I had come straight from the ship and not left it until this afternoon for I noticed that the opening times were only from 10am to 1pm and that the cemetery was closed completely on a Saturday.  On entering I found myself in a cemetery shaded by trees and abundant vegetation.  The sections were  surrounded by neatly trimmed box hedges and the colours of autumn were everywhere.

The cemetery was far too large for me to photograph all the graves but I did take pictures of the some of the very old inscriptions. When I return to the UK perhaps I may find some interesting stories to relate about the English merchants in Lisbon who lie buried here.  For researchers who may follow in my footsteps in the future it is worth noting that this particular cemetery is provided with toilet facilities.  Another fact worthy of note is that the No. 28 tram from central Lisbon stops right outside the Basilica and Gardens – certainly better than undertaking the 1 ½ hour walk as I had done !

I am pleased to report that the police had not closed off any roads and I was able to return to the ship for lunch with no problems.  In the afternoon I wandered into the main square and purchased a couple of wonderful scarves at a very reasonable price.  I was continually aware of my camera and bag as back in 2009 this was the one port of call where pickpockets had been rife.  Passports, wallets and handbags had all been targetted which was such a shame. 

As we sailed out of Lisbon the Commodore gave us news that the weather was set to deteriorate for our remaining voyage to Southampton.  Boy, was he right.  As I write this we have experienced 48 hours of gale force winds and the Bay of Biscay has done what it is famous for – it tossed this ship about all over the place.  Forget everything you read about these large modern ships being fitted with stabilisers and therefore not being subject to extremes of movement in rough seas.  True, stabilisers are fitted.  True that they do reduce the sidewards roll of the ship.  However, they do nothing to stop the pitch from bow to stern - and reducing the sidewards roll is not the same as preventing it altogether.  As I lay in bed last night the movement was so severe that wine glasses came flying from one end of the cabin to the other, just missing my head. Clock and spectacles were thrown to the floor from the bedside table and I just managed to catch a glass of water preventing that too from being catapulted into the air.  I donned my travel sickness wrist bands !!

The Magical Mystery Cruise - Valencia, Spain

There are to be no stories about trying to find cemeteries in this episode of the blog, in fact the day was just spent playing the typical British tourist.  The shuttle bus dropped us off in the centre of town and as I waited to alight I heard one of my fellow passengers acost the driver in an angry voice – “Well where are the shops?”.  The driver did not speak English – at least not when spoken to in such an ill mannered way !  Outside another of the passengers pointed out the general direction of “the shops” and the rather rude gentleman replied “Well why didn’t he say so”.  Sometimes I despair of my fellow countrymen.  As I alighted I turned to the driver and said “Gracias” in an accent that I hoped he would understand.

Our drop off and meeting point was on the banks of the former Rio Turia opposite the Trinidad Bridge.  The river burst its banks on 14 Oct 1957 and led to the worst flooding in Valencia’s history.  To ensure that such a disaster could not happen again the river was diverted around the city.  The old river bed has now been laid out to gardens, sports areas and children’s play areas.  I would have liked to explore the gardens but time did not permit so I concentrated instead on the old part of the city.

Somehow I managed to negotiate the maze of narrow streets and found myself outside the old market.  At 9.30 am it was a hive of activity with the locals eager to buy the freshest fruit and vegetables for their day.  The colours were spectacular and the fresh smell something I will long remember.  What has happened in England?  How come we have lost our markets?  How come the youngsters only want to eat horrible ready prepared food instead of wonderful healthy options. Indeed, how come our supermarkets are full of artificial looking fruit and veg where each item has to be exactly the same dimensions as everything else and where nothing tastes of anything anymore?  I marvelled at the sights before me and took many photos of wonderful displays with their vibrant natural colours.

Having returned to the ship for lunch I ventured out in the afternoon for a walk.  From the looks of the map the local beach was not too far away.  Outside the port gates were the old, highly decorated warehouses.  I looked at the road and noticed markings that looked like grid markings on a race track.  Suddenly it dawned on me – this was the Valencia Formula 1 Grand Prix Circuit !  Having determined that at this point in time there was no danger of an F1 car roaring down on me I ventured out a little further and found myself standing on the actual track – WOW, what a thrill (even without any cars).  My walk to the beach took me round about a third of the F1 circuit and I imagined Jenson and Lewis racing round here in their wonderful Maclaren cars. 

The palm lined promenade soon came into view and beyond it stretched mile upon mile of yellow sand.  Here and there were groups of children and young people playing ball games but for all intents and purposes the beach was deserted – even though the sun was shining brightly.  I managed to capture one shot of a fisherman standing at the water’s edge with a couple of sailing boats out on the turquoise water.  I hope it looks as good when I download it from the camera onto the computer.

I made my way back to the ship after yet another fascinating day.  There is only one more port of call for this cruise and that’s Lisbon.  Three days after that it will be back to Southampton and onward to dismal Croydon.  But at the moment let’s look forward to Lisbon where I need to find the “Cemeterio dos Ingleses” !!!!!!

The Magical Mystery Cruise - Sicily, Land of the Godfather

Our port of call in Sicily faces the Strait of Messina and carries the same name.  During the second world war Dad passed through Messina on his way from Egypt to Italy.  Up on deck at dawn as the city came into view I tried to pick out which of the buildings Dad would have seen and imagined how he might have felt with the clouds of war hanging over the city.  My own approach could not have been more different – here I was on a luxury P&O cruise liner whilst Dad would have been on a very basic troop carrier.  But enough of the war – how did I spend my day in the Land of the Godfather?  Needless to say it involved yet another adventure trying to find a cemetery!

As I entered the terminal building I found a tourist information booth was just opening up.  I asked for a map and enquired the way to the “Messina Cimitero Monumentale” in Via Catania.  As always I received a surprised look – obviously cemeteries are not on the normal tourist trail.  On this occasion I received excellent help and the exact route to the main gate of the cemetery was pointed out on the map. The young lady even wrote down an Italian phrase that I should ask for within the cemetery so that the Office could point me in the right direction.  I was told I could take the light rail from outside but said I would prefer to take the half hour walk.  It was far too early for anything to be open but this was fine as it gave me a chance to negotiate the streets with ease and soak up a little of the atmosphere from the imposing architecture.

I reached the cemetery with no problems and spent a little while wandering around wondering where on earth the “Foreigners” section was in this huge Sicilian cemetery.  In the end I had to admit defeat.  I made my way to the main gate and noticed a small office with the word “Portiere” over the door.  An emaciated gentleman stood outside and I enquired of him the way to “Zomo Inglesi” in my best British accent.  Obviously he had no idea of what I was trying to say!  I tried several more times, each time adding more of an Italian lilt to the words.  He waved his hands about in frustration trying to tell me that he spoke no English and did not understand what I was asking.  Then all of a sudden the penny must have dropped and he shouted excitedly “Campo Inglesi?”.  Just as excitedly I nodded my head and repeated the words that he had said – hoping aganst hope that this was actually what I wanted.  He took me over to a small mini bus that was parked by the gate and which was filling up with passengers who were loaded down with bunches of flowers.  The Portiere spoke to the driver and I was told to board the bus.  I did as I was told – goodness only knows where I was going to be taken!

As I boarded I noticed that there should be one seat free at the back – unfortunately the three passengers taking up this back row were of such a size that they took up all four seats.  There was a two seater row in front of this but these two seats were taken up by one lady with masses of flowers.  The driver shouted at her to make room for me to sit down (at least this is what I think he was saying).  She shouted back in a very angry voice and I told her it was “OK” I would stand.  Then an elderly Turkish gentleman tried to get up to offer me his seat but again I said it was “OK” – how could I take a seat from him?  So, mini bus full and me standing with head bent we set off into the heart of the cemetery.  We climbed and climbed and negotiated many hair pin bends before coming to a halt at the very top of the steep hill.  Most of the passengers alighted carrying with them their flowers and I was able to take a seat.  I enquired as best I could whether this was where I was meant to get off but the driver shook his head and had an animated conversation with the one other passenger who was left.  I heard the work “Inglesi” several times so they were obviously talking about me and my mission.

We set off again this time going down hill and negotiating more hairpin bends.  I had completely lost my sense of direction by this time and just hoped that by some miracle I would be able to find my way out of the cemetery when the time came.  The bus came to a halt and both driver and passenger pointed out a small pathway between the trees.  I thanked the driver profusely – but what was “thank you “ in Italian, I had forgotten and just smiled broadly and said Thank You many times. I made my way down the path, peered over the wall and noticed some dilapidated English graves on the other side.  Then I came to a gate outside of which was a notice stating that in 1925 King George V and Queen Mary had visited the graves of the British soldiers and sailors who were buried here.  I had found the section I was seeking !!

Inside I found the graves of English, French and German.  It was a very showery morning and large droplets of rain fell on my head from the trees.  My feet were becoming wetter and wetter as I was having to plough my way through overgrown vegetation.  A family of locals noticed that I was taking photographs and this sparked their interest and they wandered in.  I doubt that they had ever entered this section before – they did not stay long.  I spent an hour doing what I could to photograph the headstones and then bid my fellow countrymen farewell.  I now had to find my way out of the cemetery.

Fortunately, right next to the “Foreigners Section” I spotted a side gate which seemed to lead out of the cemetery onto a lane.  I was now at quite a low level and I reckoned that if I followed this narrow lane downhill then it SHOULD lead me back to the main road, Via Catania.  Thankfully it did.  Phew I had not become totally lost.

Back on the right track I passed the main gate and popped in to thank the Portiere for his help.  The only Mediterranean phrase for thank you that I could think of was “Gracias” but wasn’t that Spanish?  Oh well, Gracias and Thank You will have to do. He seemed to be delighted so he must have got the drift of what I was trying to say.  I found my way back to the ship for a sorely needed cup of coffee.

At noon I was in the main square to watch the clock spring into life.  The rampart lion roaring and waving his flag, a cockerel screeching to the gathered crowds and the twelve apostles circling.  All of this was done to the chants of a priest and the strains of Ave Maria – most impressive. 

The afternoon was spent wandering the little back streets of Messina.  Every corner revealed new shapes or new colours.  What photo opportunities.  But then the rain came down in torrents and I got drenched.  Back to the ship soaking wet but with such very happy memories of Messina.