Sue and I, accompanied by our friend Larraine booked ourselves in for a one week Mediterranean cruise from 18th to 24th August 2011
We boarded the Thompson cruise ship at midday at Palma on the island of Majorca on Thursday 18th August after a smooth and uneventful flight from Stansted airport. After settling into our cabin, which to my delight had a picture window, we met up with Larraine at the Lido Café. Then we spent some time sunbathing in the warm afternoon sunshine as well as having a dip in the ship’s pool.
We decided to visit the large ornate cathedral which could be clearly seen from the port just a few miles away. Outside the port terminal building we took a taxi and as soon as we were under way I noticed with alarm that the counter was already showing four and a half euros before we’d even got anywhere. My concern was well founded when the taxi fare ended up being fourteen euros for traveling what could not have been more than four or five miles. When it cost us just nine euros to return by taxi we were convinced that we had been ripped off.
Palma itself seemed to be a typical concrete tourist port – not necessarily ugly just very functional. To be fair when we passed through some of the more historic sections of the city, including a shady tree lined piazza it looked much more inviting.
I found the cathedral itself rather disappointing. It was huge with a very high ceiling. For some reason it reminded me of the Liverpool Anglican Cathedral – gaunt and somehow soulless. I normally like visiting churches and other religious sites because I enjoy being in a space that’s sacred, set aside for meditation and spiritual reflection. But this building had no such feeling. It was full of ornate side chapels, paintings and sculptures (including a Gaudi sea mural which frankly I found uninspiring) but yet there was no sense that we were in a special space. It’s nothing to do with size. Sometimes it’s possible to feel more in tune with the ‘infinite’ in a tiny chapel than a large cathedral as our visit amply confirmed.
After returning to the ship and a large evening meal we found our way to the sky bar, an aptly named cocktail lounge that was perched on the highest point of the ship. There we eagerly awaited the spectacle of the ship departing one hour before midnight. When eleven thirty came and went and the ship hadn’t budged I decided to return to our cabin tired but happy. We had been up since four o’clock in the morning and I was ready for my bed and looking forward to the ship lullabying me to sleep as it made its way out into open sea. We later found out that the ship’s departure was set back due to a delayed flight!
We woke the following day to bright sunshine and a deep blue sea over which waves danced and occasional crests of white foam could be seen. Before breakfast we took part in the obligatory emergency drill which involved wearing the rather silly looking, but no doubt very effective, life jackets. We spent the rest of the day at sea doing what everyone does on a cruise – sunbathe on deck, go for a swim in the pool and drink and eat far too much. As on all cruises food is available almost continually and it is very difficult to resist the temptation to gorge oneself. The evening was ‘gala night’ which involved strutting about in a shirt, tie and jacket – ladies in evening dress. Tedious beyond belief, but at least it was the only time that it was necessary to indulge in this particular form of silliness. We made our way back to the sky bar in the evening for more cocktails and again I found myself overcome with tiredness and was the first to return to a welcome bunk for the night.
On the morning of Saturday 20th August (our 28th wedding anniversary) we found ourselves moored up by Trapani on the Italian island of Sicily. After breakfast made our way off the boat to explore the delights that Trapani could afford. Unfortunately I had diarrhoea and so the first task was to find a chemist and purchase some Immodium. The ship’s shop was closed and didn’t look like it stocked that particular medicine anyway. On the way from the ship to the terminal building I managed to trip over and scrape my knee and jar my right hand. Not a good start.
It was hot, very hot even though only just past half nine in the morning. We kept to the shade and explored the narrow streets where the tall buildings offered the comfort of shade. Checking in at the tourist information desk in the town we got the number of the bus we needed to get to the cable car station and headed off. But in our efforts to find an open chemist (apparently in Sicily you can’t be ill early in the morning) we ended up going in a circle and retracing our steps.
Flustered and rather annoyed we headed off again and this time we were more successful, locating the bus stop where other tourists had gathered. The bus soon came and took a circuitous route through the town. We were glad when it finally arrived at the cable car station just before noon. The cable car is a wonderful form of transportation, by far the easiest and most sensible way to ascend to a hill top. I always enjoy cable car rides and this was no exception. On the way up (and later on the way down) we were treated to magnificent views back over the town as it lay surrounded by the gorgeous blue of the Mediterranean.
The cable car took us to the pretty village of Erice perched on the top of a hill looking down haughtily over the surrounding countryside. Inside the village walls it was a warren of steep and narrow streets. Although we had hoped that it would be cooler up in the mountains it felt initially as hot and sticky as down in the town. We stopped briefly for a drink to quench our thirst and then headed off to explore the steep paths whose stone surface was at times surprisingly slippery worn smooth no doubt the the countless passage of feet. Finally we arrived at the castle which overlooked a precipice and found a café set amidst an elegant garden which provided shade. Here there was a constant and welcome breeze and we ordered drinks and food. On the way up we had passed a church and were amused to find that the information board outside boasted that it was built by ‘Roger the Norman’, that well known historical figure! The Normans seemed to be responsible for most of the historical buildings within the town.
After our short repast we made our way back through the streets to the cable car station and then down again by that marvellous transportation to the town. Almost as soon as we left the station we spotted the bus for our return journey and hopped on board. In no time at all we were back on board and enjoying a sunbathe on the deck or another swim.
After a special meal where Sue and I celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary we went to see the evening show ‘you can’t stop the beat’. Although the show had a rather juvenile theme the dancing and singing was of high quality and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. After the show we returned to our cabins to prepare ourselves for big day ahead.
Sunday 21st August was always going to be our busiest sightseeing day. The cruise itinerary took us to Naples and from the port Naples frankly looked butt ugly with interminable concrete apartment blocks dominating the view. However exploring Naples was not part of our plan. We not had two objectives in mind; Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii. It was the only day in which we purchased a Thompson sightseeing coach tour and although it was expensive I felt that we could not accomplish both objectives under our own steam. The coach duly set off at 8:30 and after winding itself up some incredibly tight hairpin bends we finally arrived at the drop off point for the 860m metre path up to the rim of the volcano. Sue decided it wasn’t for her so I set off on my own.
It was very, very hot and I struggled up the steep path stopping many times to let my heartbeat settle down. I was not certain that I could make it and so I was very pleased when I saw the first shop come shelter ahead which marked the first point at the summit. After a further effort I found myself at the rim of the crater. I had made it! I felt both relieved to have conquered the steep path and also quietly proud that I had shown enough perseverance to succeed. It was less than two months since chemo had been cancelled and it felt like an important stage in my physical and mental recovery.
Past the shop, full of tourist tat, the path made its way around the rim and I stopped at several points to take photographs. The path undulated, so there was some more climbing to be done but I took this in my stride. Beyond a second tourist hut the path actually went up a staircase and I climbed to the top to see another hut a little further round the rim.
But time had run out and here I decided that I had to turn round and head back if I was to make it back to the coach in time. As far as I could see the third hut was at the furthest point along the path that circumnavigated the rim and so I felt that there was little to be gained from persevering further other than to risk missing the coach. So I turned round and headed back, picking up a lump of volcanic rock on the way, and was reunited with Sue and the bottom of the path. After purchasing some postcards and an ice cream we just had time to make it back to the coach.
Arriving at Pompeii we had time for a lunch of pizza, salad and a soft drink, before our guide led us through the gates into the ruins. By now the heat had reached its zenith and it was difficult to undertake any physical exertion (such as walking!) without sweat simply pouring off us (we were later informed that the temperature had reached 44 degrees!). The tour took two hours and it really would not have been possible to stand the heat for any longer than that. Unfortunately it became obvious just how huge the site was and after two hours we felt we had only scratched the surface of what the ruined city could offer the interested visitor. Sue and I could have spent a whole day at this fascinating site – but not in that heat!
I think the real size of the city hit me when we had walked past a small amphitheatre and came out into one of the main roads that led through the town. It looked so familiar, a long straight road with buildings either side, that it was possibly to instantly imagine the place populated with people going about their day to day business. On most Roman sites it is possible to see snippets of ordinary roman life but at Pompeii you are confronted with a complete vision of that life.
That view of life included the small Lupanari or brothel complete with erotic pictures forming a menu for potential clients all those years ago! After our visit to this small and rather soulless building we made our way to the grand forum which was the heart of the city. At one end stood the temple of Zeus before a wide piazza that would have been completely covered in marble and must have looked most impressive in its heyday. In a side market there were two cases filled with plaster casts of two of the citizens of Pompeii that were overcame by the eruption, their bodies seemingly frozen in time, their faces contorted in the grimace of death! After walking through the temple of Apollo we finally made our way out of the site and after a cold drink from a vendor were reunited with our coach and its welcome air conditioning.
The journey back to the ship did not take long and we fell onto the beds in our cabin exhausted but pleased with our adventurous day out. And what impression did Pompeii leave in my mind? Perhaps the most obvious conclusion to come to from visiting this amazing site is that the people that lived there all those years ago were no so very different from ourselves. They lived and died. No doubt they also argued and made love, they cried with sorrow and they laughed with delight at the foolishness of life. The reality and mystery of human existence remains constant across the centuries and the vast span of time. We are no clever than they save that we have the benefit of knowledge and technology gained through the accumulated efforts of mankind over the intervening years.
Following the exertions of Sunday’s trip to Vesuvius and Pompeii we planned a more sedate programme for the following day (Monday 22nd August). We got up late and spent a lazy morning about the boat, sunbathing and watching the island scenery of Corsica pass by the port side. Then at one o’clock the ship arrived at Ajaccio, a much prettier port of call than Naples it must be said. By two o’clock we were off the boat and found our way to the busy local beach which was no more than twenty minutes’ walk away. Staking claim to a patch of scorching golden sand on a wide but narrow strip of beach Sue and I promptly went for a swim.
Swimming in the sea is simply wonderful. The extra floatation afforded by the salt water makes lazily floating on top of the waves an addictive experience. While Larraine went for a paddle Sue and I donned our snorkelling gear and enjoyed spotting the small black and white striped fish feeding on the sandy bottom and shoals of tiny blue fish darting here and there. By alternating periods of sunbathing with swimming in the sea we managed to pass a very happy and relaxing few hours. At about four thirty we started heading back to the ship stopping at a pavement café for a soft drink.
After a shower I watched the boat leave from our cabin window. It is always fun watching the ship enter and leave port. The ship often seems to dwarf the buildings on land (although we were not by any means the largest cruise ships operating in these waters) and it is fascinating to how with such skill the crew manage to enter or leave port manoeuvring such a large vessel with care. Our evening meal was followed by an energetic evening entertainment in the form of a show called ‘Swing time’. I had wanted to stay up and pop up on deck to watch the stars but was so tired I retired straight to bed.
The following day the ship was moored at Toulon by eight o’clock and by ten all three of us were on the little tourist train known affectionately as the ‘Noddy bus’ outside the port on the way to the beach. And what a wonderful beach it turned out to be. By ten thirty we were sunbathing on golden sand on a busy but surprisingly quiet beach by a restaurant on padded recliners under the shade of a parasol – marvellous! We had planned to stay on the beach in the morning and then visit the old section of the town but quickly revised our plans to include nothing more than lazing on that stretch of golden sand. This included of course swimming in the sea and for me, snorkelling. There was a short groyne sticking out into the water enclosing the beach and by the groyne I found an underwater wonderland of rocks and cervices. Although nothing like the coral reefs of the red sea it was still wonderful to snorkel across the subterranean landscape and look at the fish. There seemed to be five different types; oval shaped fish some up to eight inches long with horizontal stripes; shorter narrower fish with dark colouring on top and white below, small lumpy fish hugging the rock surfaces and shoals of tiny shiny fish no more than a few centimetres long. It always amazes me how many people swim in the sea without any thought of the magical world below. Although to see the true wonders of the deep it is necessary to don scuba gear it is amazing what can be seen of this secret world with just a ten pound pair of mask and snorkel. I recommend it to anyone.
So we whiled the afternoon sunbathing and swimming, stopping at lunch time for a glorious meal of mussels (one of my favourite meals) in the beach side restaurant. We returned to the ship well pleased with our relaxing day at the beach. Just before our evening meal Sue and I strolled on the decks and looked as the sun set over the turquoise sea and a porpoise jumped and played in the water.
Wednesday 24th August started with overcast clouds as the ship moored at Barcelona but by noon the sun had come out in full force and it turned hot and rather humid. We took the tourist train that took a rather tedious journey through the town stopping every few minutes at the plethora of traffic lights that seem everywhere in that city. We passed the Ramblas but didn’t alight – rather we continued on the bus until it entered the higher land to the west of the city where gardens dominated. Passing the ginormous National Museum of Art and the Olympic Stadium we stopped at the Miro museum and spent some time there. My experience of Miro’s work has been largely that of his bright abstract canvases and sculptures. There were sculptures here also but many examples of a paintings and collages using darker and more sombre tones. To be honest I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. By the time we had stopped for a drink and sandwich it was already passed twelve o’clock and we discussed what to do next.
It can be quite frustrating visiting a big city like Barcelona on a cruise where you have very limited time to explore. We had encountered this problem when visiting Oslo on our Norwegian cruise last year (A Norwegian Cruise). Barcelona clearly has numerous museums, art galleries, parks, gardens and many other attractions but having only between about ten in the morning till five in the afternoon severely curtails what it is possible to achieve. We decided to head for the Aquarium and popping back on the bus we were soon queuing outside. We spent an hour or so exploring the aquarium which included a unique traveling walkway through a Perspex tunnel under the water.
Returning to the ship rather hot and bothered we had an afternoon snack at the Lido bar whilst I took the opportunity for a quick nap in the cabin. Then in the evening all three of us went on deck to catch the sunset. There had been sensational sunsets all week but this evening the sun was sulking behind a large cloud and it looked like we would be denied a display on our last night. But at the last minute the sun shone below the cloud painting the waves with crests of ruby red. After our last evening and entertainment we reluctantly retried knowing that the following day we would have to say goodbye.
So it was that after an early breakfast we said goodbye to Larraine who was taking an earlier flight back home. As we watched her walk off the boat from our cabin window we wondered what the last day had in store for us. We were uncertain whether to try to spend the last day on the beach or take the ‘Tren de Soller’, a vintage electric train ride over the mountains of Mallorca to the hilltop village of Soller. The blurb on the ship’s information guide beguiled us with tales of traveling ‘past olive groves and dinky villages’ on-board a train that had stayed the same since the 1920a.
The tourist blurb can often be a bit like estate agent’s descriptions of property – wildly over stated – but the train to Soller turned out to be a real gem. We took a taxi from the port to the train station and there boarded the delightful wooden carriages and settled down for a treat. As the train trundled along past some rather dreary suburbs of Palma we might have had some anxieties that the journey would be a waste of time but soon the buildings gave way to wooded mountain vistas looking down over orange and lemon groves as well as countless olive trees and through tunnels cut into the mountainside itself. The longer the journey continued the more delightful the scenery became and as we entered Soller itself we found ourselves in a lovely little village set around a square complete with church and al-fresco bars. After a stroll around (there actually isn’t that much to see outside of the square itself) and a visit to the rather gloomy church we settled down for a cool drink before making our way back to the station where we found an exhibition of Picasso’s ceramic work.
It is possible to take a vintage tram directly from Soller station to the nearby harbour and from there to get a boat over to a small island. The postcard views of the island looked wonderful and had we known about the tram I think we could have had time to visit the harbour at least.
But we didn’t have time – we had to be back at the boat for the transfer to the airport and so we sadly boarded the return train and found ourselves back in Palma. A further taxi ride and we were back on the boat to catch a bite before collecting our luggage and then boarding a coach to the airport. The airport itself was very hot and sticky but our check in went smoothly and the return flight was fast, completed in just over two hours. We touched down at Stansted and thanked our lucky stars that we didn’t have the mayhem of Gatwick or Heathrow to put up with. We re-joined our car and drove home with pictures of blue skies and azure seas in our mind’s eye.
