ST PETERSBURG

At last, after all these years I have touched the soil of Mother Russia. It hasn’t been for want of trying, but every time we tried to make a plan to visit the USSR or Russia we were thwarted. The first occasion was when we were still living in Zimbabwe in the 80s. We were about to apply for visas from the Intourist office in London (the nearest office) when some kind of diplomatic row broke out between the Brits and the Soviets resulting in the expulsion of ‘spies’ from both countries, including all the Intourist staff. So no visas for six months, by which time my opportunity had passed. It is still essential to apply for visas, unless you are visiting with a group, as we were today.

Well, we lost another hour’s sleep last night as we put our clocks forward again – the third time this voyage, which must have created a short night for those off early on their Russian tours. This included our neighbours who tend to be a little noisy when they wake up – TV on, drawers slamming, talking and laughing loudly – and Rab swears she has heard them snore when she has woken in the middle of the night. The morning noises don’t last long and then all is quiet – but the strange thing is that we’ve never clapped eyes on them – or indeed on the neighbours on the other side of us or those opposite. All part of the cruising experience!

There were many tours on offer including the Hermitage and several of the Palaces. Friends and family were appalled when we told them we wouldn’t be going on these. How could we be in St Petersburg and NOT go to the Hermitage, the finest museum in the world. Well…..for a start we’re not all Museum People in our current touring party, as I may have mentioned before, but more importantly these were long tours with a good deal of walking and standing – people going on the Hermitage tour were told that they could expect to queue for up to 45 minutes to get through immigration here at the docks, to queue for between 45 and sixty minutes to get into the Hermitage and that the tour of the building would be about four and a half hours, with no sitting at any time. All too much for our old joints and my feet.

The tour we chose initially included a visit to the Church of The Spilled Blood, built on the site where one of the tsars was assassinated (was it Nicholas II or Alexander II ? – very confusing these old tsars) and an hour’s shopping in the main street, Nevsky Prospect. That seemed to us to be an ideal balance between a bit of history and a bit of shopping – Rab’s main reason for travelling. But it was not to be. We got the message yesterday afternoon that the Russians had declined to open the church because there were only 25 of us on the tour and they needed a minimum of 100. As Michael, our guide said today (on more than one occasion “de-der The Church is very greedy, de-der” The ‘de-der’ being said very quickly - a charming little speech defect that he had. We got used to it fairly quickly but it was a little amusing at first. He was a lovely bloke with a somewhat unfortunate second name – Fokin, but he was a very good guide. So we got our money back for that and elected for another tour Highlights of St Petersburg – mainly staying in the coach.

The tour had a late start, so we just took it easy this morning relaxing to make up for the missed hour’s sleep, a leisurely breakfast, did a bit of washing of smalls and read in the lounge until it was time to assemble – 12.15 for a 13.00 departure. We were still standing around at 12.45 because only one Immigration officer was on duty instead of the eight required to process us all. Presumably they were at lunch but they finally turned up and we were on our way. As is the case with many people in Russia, there are no smiles – especially from these officials. Just a blank stare. I couldn’t work out why there were mirrors at a 45 degree angle opposite each high station where the officials sat. But then I realised it was so they could see what we were carrying. It was also useful in the case of one diminutive old lady whose face could not be seen over the counter. She was asked to turn and look into the mirror. It was strange to see them actually stamp our passports – we are using our British ones for this leg of the trip. We are so used to European countries not bothering to stamp us in and out that it is quite odd to see these blots on otherwise clear documents.

As I say, Michael was an excellent guide, full of knowledge and with a great command of English, although it was amusing to hear some of his usages that were NQR – not quite right or just plain amusing. For example he referred to what we might call dormitory suburbs as ‘sleeping zones’ and he continued to refer to ‘fat cats’ in the context of our wealthy rulers, for whom he had very little time. The first time he used the phrase was when we were passing the Astoria Hotel. He said all the big cheeses including Bush had stayed there. Pretty Ellen in Warnemunde also had a charming slight mistranslation when she referred to beach boxes as ‘wardrobe houses’. Mind you I’m not knocking them, as an English speaker I am as useless as most as far as foreign tongues are concerned.

It was blowing great guns as we left the ship with squalls of rain – and a little hail from time to time, as it had been for most of the morning – so we were glad we weren’t doing a walking tour. This weather didn’t auger well for our tour and indeed the early part made for very difficult viewing from the coach. But at our first stop – St Isaac’s Cathedral – the sun came out and although the wind was still bitter, there was more sun and less cloud as the afternoon went on. By the time we made our last call – at the Church of The Spilled Blood (which was indeed closed) the cupolas shone and glistered in the brilliant light of the afternoon sun. What an incredible building it is. I would have really liked to see the interior, but that’s the way things go. Incidentally I see that St Isaac was a Dalmatian – those darn dogs come back time and again.

There were several photo opportunity stops during the afternoon before the final one at the church and we got good views of the best parts of the city. It is indeed a wonderful city and thoroughly deserves the title of The Venice of The North, awarded to it by Peter The Great apparently. Many of the original canals have been filled in and are now broad avenues, but there is still plenty of water around and the buildings on the banks of the waterways are truly magnificent in their majesty and dignity. Our personal views is that it is superior to Venice, with much wider vistas and more consistently gracious buildings.

We were surprised to see so many flags – and such a variety – flying over many buildings. The Russian flag was to be expected but there was a plethora of others, some of which were very similar, or even identical to other, netter known ones. There was for example one building flying the Scottish flag – the Cross of St Andrew, while the Naval flag, flying on the Fortress of St Peter and Paul and the mighty Aurora looked very like a British flag at first glance. The Aurora is in very good condition, with it’s forward gun still pointing towards the Winter palace, ready to start another Revolution if necessary.

It seems that Wednesday is a big day for weddings – we saw brides all over the place, like fleas on a dog’s back. Most of them were in stretch limos, including a couple of stretch Hummers. Early on the poor girls were being photographed in the parks under umbrellas as the rain came down – those who married late in the day were luckier. Michael said that although all marriages had to be registered at the main office, church weddings were becoming more and more popular, although he felt that this was more a matter of fashion than de-der faith de-der. I noticed that on one charming small bridge there were thousands of padlocks fixed to the railings and lampposts. Apparently it is a local custom for brides and grooms to put these locks here to signify the permanency of their relationship. It wasn’t clear if they were removed in the event of a separation.

Michael advised us to ignore all the pedlars at the stops as we were going to be given a chance to shop at a ‘big mall’ where the prices would be fair and the quality so much better. We still don’t know if he was saying this tongue in cheek or if he did believe that the small shop at which we stopped could be called a mall, but it certainly wasn’t. We did pick up a couple of small items, as did several other people so I guess he would have earned his commission. There was a lovely little park opposite the ‘mall’ and I wandered through there looking for photo opportunities. The trees are all turning gold and the dappled effect was very pretty. A dozen or so pupils were having a painting lesson, scattered around the park, each taking a different view. I also managed to decipher my first bit of Cyrillic alphabetic signage – PECPOH. This appeared everywhere and I finally twigged that it was RESRON, or as we might say restaurant.

All in all we had a lovely afternoon, despite some hair raising driving – it was quite astonishing how a vehicle as big as our coach could fit through some narrow gaps in the traffic – talk about camels and eyes of needles! Although it was said that there were terrific traffic jams kin the city, we went fairly smoothly, although the three accidents, we saw did hold up the traffic somewhat. Michael said de-der that wealthy people only had to pay the right person de-der to get a licence so it was hardly surprising that there were accidents de-der. It was good to get back home to our cabin though and to have an early night after an early dinner – there were no set dining hours tonight as some of the folk had elected to go to the ballet and others to the folkloric dancing. We GAIN the lost hour’s sleep tonight, so should be in good nick for Helsinki tomorrow.

TALLINN

The sights you see! Yesterday I watched in some fascination as an old gent in front of me at the KGB lecture methodically picked his teeth with the corner of his Daily Programme. I have to say it had never occurred to me that one could substitute stiff paper for a toothpick. Another jolly gent at lunch was using the nail on his little finger to loosen some debris – not the most charming of sights. Yet another item of some amazement was the confession of one couple that on their first cruise they found one of the other couples at the evening meal (usually this is the only meal where seats are ‘fixed’ ) so abominable that they never ate another meal in the main dining room. On this, their second trip, they were so worried that the same thing might happen again that they hadn’t even been to check out the company!! There’s naught s’queer as folks as the Yorkshire saying used to go before the word changed it’s meaning.

We were at sea yesterday, moving from Germany to Estonia – our port of call is Tallinn today - so that gave us more opportunity to chat to our fellow travellers who are, by and large a jolly lot. We’ll discount the snooty woman in the left on our return from the Molli and Minster tour. Her response to Rab’s enthusiastic “Wasn’t that a lovely afternoon?” was “Weeellllll………yeeesss.” Clearly not in agreeance as we Aussies would say. Talking to one of the staff yesterday he said that he had never worked on a ship that had such a good atmosphere. He couldn’t put his finger on the cause, but it was so. Staff and passengers get along very well and there are smiles everywhere. I know that may make it sound a bit like a loony bin with grinning faces in abundance, but it is pleasant to be with so many cheerful folk, many of whom are returning for second or multiple voyages. That’s quite remarkable given that the ship has only been in it’s current ownership since March 2008, having been laid up previously for some time before a major refit. I think that alone is a solid endorsement that confirms the very positive posts on websites like Trip Advisor. Perhaps all those folk who believe that buildings and objects absorb emotions are right. This has been such a happy ship for so long that she exudes some sort of cheerfulness to all who sail on her.

Talking of returning passengers, one of the tour staff, who is a South African lass from Cape Town was talking enthusiastically about trips to Norway, Iceland and the Northern Lights. I have always had a hankering to travel to Antarctica, but the Arctic would do in a push. There has always been considerable resistance from management to these destinations, but yesterday Rab picked up a brochure on the available trips in 2013 and suggested I put out the message to those of you who said they were envious of this voyage to start saving now. So the bait is on the hook, but as any fisherman knows, it is a long way from getting a nibble to getting a fish IDB – In De Boat! We can only live in hopes.

And talking about this dear old ship, some facts:

· launched in 1965, almost 50 years ago, as the Alexandr Pushkin, the name still faintly discernible on the stern where it was profiled in the steel

· built for the Russian merchant navy in an East German shipyard. It is always something of a puzzle to me that the Soviets could produce items like this, but were totally unable to produce a decent car.

· originally designed for the North Atlantic trade with sailings between Leningrad and Montreal

· refitted and converted to a cruise liner out of Tilbury for the European market

· transferred to Vladivostok for cruises aimed at the Australian market aimed at the 18 – 30 year market, so no doubt built up a fair store of cheerfulness at this time

· the collapse of the Soviet Union led to her being laid up in Singapore in 1990

· rescued from there in 1991 and renamed Marco Polo she was entirely refitted and re-launched in November 1993. this was the version that we sailed on previously – in 1998 from Barcelona to Istanbul

· sold and re-sold and laid up again as the global financial crisis bit into cruising profits

· resuscitated again and after a refit, back to where she started – almost, cruising out of Tilbury again

Friends who have sailed on her ask what changes have been made and it is difficult to pinpoint them, not least because it is thirteen years since our last voyage and we have been on a number of other liners since then. Generally speaking, the interior has been modernised and brightened. Not in any gaudy way, like the QE II when we sailed on her in 1981 with interior colours of bright green and purple. The décor is good and easy on the eye. The shop has been enlarged substantially and renamed a boutique – that’s one change, but we can’t recall if there was a small casino in an area which is now another small lounge where one can watch the TV. The rear eatery also seems to have been changed in it’s layout to a more efficient one – but there again, we’re wondering if we’re confusing this area with another vessel. The public rooms seem to look rather more posh than we remember them being but everything suits us just fine!

So, a lazy day yesterday – just two interesting lectures, a bit of Gershwin in the lounge, three good meals and a few pleasant drinks plus a bottle of Abruzzo wine from one of our favourite Italian villages Montepulciano. And so to bed, rocked gently by the slight movement in the ship as we found some water that wasn’t completely flat. Not all bad.

Having visited Tallinn previously, some five years ago, we decided not to take any of the tours and used the shuttle bus provided to get into town. It was so pleasant to see the city, which is a little cracker, with so much greenery in contrast to our last visit which was in February when everything was covered in snow. It was certainly easier walking around the city without being worried about the ice on the cobbles and we had some nostalgic strolls through the Old Town.

One of the shops that we had missed seeing last time was one that specialised in making marzipan goods. It was open this time and we were amazed at the variety of edible goods on sale. Some were really beautiful but all were expensive – at least in our opinion for art that would be gone so rapidly. A young lady worked on a bowl of fruit, endlessly painting pips on strawberries, stripes on bananas. The flower market was a blaze of colours near the twin towers that used to guard the entrance to the city and which now frame the modern power tower - a multi storey shopping centre in the New Town. In the arch of one of the towers sits a beggar, silently holding out a cardboard Coke cup. We find the Eastern European begging style particularly abhorrent. It is one thing for a bum in Central Park to shout out “Buddy can you spare me the price of a coffee?” and to respond “I take Visa and Mastercard” when I protest that I have no spare change and quite another for these Eastern Europeans to sit freezing on the ground or to prostate themselves at the feet of pedestrians.

We found the little shop where we had bought snacks and provisions on our previous visit and stocked up with Vana Tallinn there. This is a local liqueur and is the best liqueur that I have ever had the pleasure of drinking. As far as my taste buds are concerned, it is like drinking Christmas cake. I have always enjoyed liqueurs and one of the pleasures in travelling was always to hunt out new and different flavours and tastes.

At one time, in the days when we were all young with a superior capacity and less concerns about the effect of the demon drink I had over 50 at home. And these were not for show, but for enjoying with friends at the end of a good meal. Ah! Those were the days my friends.

WARNEMUNDE

When I was young I could not imagine that a country named Pomerania could exist. Surely that was in the same category as Narnia and other such delightful spots that occupied my youthful mind? Dalmatia was another. These were the names of dogs – not countries – and to add to the confusion, the itinerary of the tour we chose referred, I thought , to visit to Bad Doberman. Turned out to be Bad Doberan.

But there we were yesterday driving through what the guide books call “The Switzerland of the North.”- Mecklenburg-West Pomerania. Now I don’t know what that phrase conjures up in your minds? High peaks, tipped with snow, local yokels yodelling to each other while their placid cows dong past, bells clanging gently. Well, let me tell you that Mecklenburg-West Pomerania is flat, flat as a tack. As I recall it was considered ideal countryside to practice tank manoeuvres precisely because of the lack of hills, let alone mountains. Perhaps it was the peaceful, pastoral feel of this huge food basin that led the copywriters to the comparison.

Our guide Ellen was a delightful young girl from Rostock with an excellent command of English and the history of her country. She had a delightful speech impediment which added to her attractiveness – as these things often do. Think of my endearing, but slight, lisp. She was a personal illustration of some of the minor problems that continue to plague citizens of the now united Germany. Growing up in the country after the Wall has dismantled, she attended local schools and university only to find that her degree was devalued by that fact. This has made it very difficult to find employment in an area where the unemployment rate is twice that of the rest of Germany. Rab tried to sell her the concept of applying for a temporary working visa in Australia, but I guess that’s a long way away from Pomerania – and maybe just as mythical – full of kangaroos bounding across the brown seared plains? She sounded quite sad when we said good-bye. We are the last tourist ship this season and she will have no work until April next year.

There was a good deal of traffic around – all headed for the seaside as Warnemunde is a noted beach resort. The fact that it is a long weekend, with a holiday on Monday also no doubt added to the jam. Most of the shops were closed, since it was Sunday, although within the multiplicity of laws that govern the upright German citizens, some classes of shops in some areas were allowed to open. Specifically all the souvenir shops in Bad Doberan – and also the shop at the Minster where Rab bought her first souvenir – a lovely oiled silk umbrella – or will that be a sunshade? – featuring the stained glass windows and the ceiling of the church. Perhaps it is more attractive than it sounds? She likes it and I think it looks very good indeed.

We’re not great explorers of churches, belonging instead to the group described by the tour guide on our river cruise in December as those Aussies who reach the ABC stage of their travels about half way up the Rhine. ABC in this instance standing for “Another Bloody Cathedral, Church or Castle.” So, with this in mind, the announcement by pretty Ellen that we were to spend an hour and forty minutes exploring the beauties of church were met with some dismay by both Rab and Carol – coincidentally Carol and Reg were both on the same tour again. But at the end of the time, all of us had found her presentation and the church of great interest. I still find it hard sometimes to get my head around the fact that the man buried in one of the ornate tombs died in 1329 aged 27. Rab is less impressed with such matters, hence the dearth of “Museums Visited” in the list of things we’ve done.

On we went to the next leg of our tour – a journey on an old steam train – the tiny 'Molli' which has been in operation since 1866 along a narrow gauge-railway. We boarded the train in the town of Bad Doberan and rocketed off, feeling that we weren’t too far behind Stephenson in his endeavours. The train stopped briefly in Heiligendamm, Germany's oldest bathing resort once visited by the Kaiser, the Russian Tsar, and European royalty. It is now better known in some circles as a gathering of the modern “Royalty” – the leaders of the G8 countries. Wonder if those old kings and tsars needed as much as security as our democratically elected ‘people’s choice’ leaders. I don’t think that is likely -isn’t it ironic that these chosen and anointed leaders of ours have to be so well shielded from their electors?

After that brief stop the train tore on through the countryside, very green from recent rains – at least in the parts that had not flooded and some beautiful woods. The one named Linden Alley was sad to have century old linden trees. We reached our designation of Kühlungsborn where our coach was to meet us – but not a coach in sight! The muttering began and was somewhat quelled by the news that there had been a bad accident which had blocked the roads and thus delayed the coaches which had to detour. But it did show how quickly the dissatisfied of this world can flare up and lodge their complaints. Instead of enjoying the warm sunshine, the chat and the floral decorations they were pacing about like caged tigers.

The coaches eventually turned up and we were soon on our way to a hotel in this seaside resort. The buildings of the small hotels along the promenade were all in a similar style – late nineteenth century - and had been done up since the fall of the Wall, looking very grand and imperious. The coffee we had been promised was served in fine china in an elegant setting with a delicious slice of homemade cake. We had forty five minutes or so to stroll through town and have a look at the beach which was dotted with what are known locally as ‘strandkorbs’ – essentially a roofed wicker beach chair. We assumed you’d book your strandkorb early in the morning with a towel. It seemed such a pleasant spot that we thought it might even be nice to come back on some future trip and spend a little time there.

While we were strolling along the main street I heard the putter of a two stroke engine and looked around to see an old Trabant coming along streaming a blue exhaust smoke and smelling as they all do. Ellen told the story of how her grandmother had ordered a Trabi for her mother for delivery on her eighteenth birthday. This was achieved by the order being placed when her mother was ten years old. She had a number of anecdotes which were equally enlightening about the time of the German Democratic Republic. As our KGB man said in this afternoon lecture, quoting Putin of all people. “ Anyone who does not regret the passing of the Soviet Union does not have a heart. Anyone who wishes it would return does not have a brain.” Seems a lot of the old “Easties” may fall into the latter category.

Back on our Marco Polo we sat on the deck in the failing light, sipping our beers and having our evening meal while swapping yarns with Carol and Reg, who have many an amusing tale to tell.

That’s what it’s all about.

DRAGOR

Rab certainly made excellent choices for our first two ports of call and we had two great days ashore.

First stop was Copenhagen on Saturday with an arrival at soon after noon. That gave us time to go to a second lecture from our spy who spoke about the KGB and his experiences in Moscow. It really was amazing just how much surveillance went on and how many people the KGB employed. Must have created a significant blip in the unemployment figures when it was disbanded. He tells a good tale and it will be interesting to listen to the third of his lectures later today.

The sun continues to shine on us – breaking several heat records in Britain, but not too hot here in the Baltic. Just a pleasant temperature for strolling around. It seems somewhat cooler today, a day spent at sea, but what is surrounding us may well be sea mist which will burn off as it warms up – or not!

We had decided not to do our own thing in Copenhagen because we have been fortunate enough to visit the city on a number of occasions over the years, although our last visit was some years ago. One of the tours on offer was a visit to the village of Dragør on the island of Amager. It was established in the sixteenth century and has not changed very much since then. Beautiful little houses, narrow lanes, photo opportunities.

Before heading for Dragør we had the compulsory stop for the Little Mermaid pics. We had been somewhat disappointed by the statue when we first saw her. I suppose the fact that pictures in tourist brochures and the like lead one to expect something larger and that seemed to be the view of many of the ‘first timers’ in our group. The walks along the harbour were crowded with people chilling out and celebrating what will probably be the last sunny Saturday before winter starts to really chill them. And when we got to the Nyehavn area where the tour boats leave from people were as thick on the ground as fleas on a dog.

We had another photo stop at the Gefion Fountain with its magnificent bulls before starting a short, but unexpected walking tour around the spacious cobbled square where the Amalienborg Palace is situated. The guards were changing duty while we were there, giving us an insight into what dickheads some tourists can be. The paths followed by the troop are clear to anyone with half a brain because they are bordered by dark stones. That didn’t stop people – and one stupid man in particular standing right in the path of the soldiers and leaping out of the way at the last minute. Who’d be a sentry?

Back to the busses via a photographic diversion or two – there are such good opportunities with water, sun and boats and I got a couple I liked. The harbour seemed to be as busy as the land with boats of all sizes everywhere. We had a brief stop in a conveniently located souvenir shop for an eis each and spotted a Daim flavoured one, but couldn’t taste the Daim – one of our favourite chocolate bars. Running a bit short of time to meet the coach, so didn’t actually look out for some Daim bars to purchase. Could have done with one last night as for the first time a chocolate craving kicked in.

Although some of the drive out to the island was past industrial areas, which are seldom good looking, the rather grim buildings were interspersed with some truly unusually designed structures, many being government owned. There were also hotels in astounding designs. I know we’re old, with old-fashioned views and no great admirers of modern art and design, but it is difficult to envision these blots on the landscape achieving the longevity and beauty of the beautiful old buildings in the city. In one new area where ‘exciting’ blocks of high rise flats were being developed, the rail service to the city is entirely automated with driverless trains departing every four minutes – amazing stuff and something our guide was pretty proud of as an example of Danish ingenuity. He seemed to be less sure of the development itself, suggesting it might land up as either a focus for similar developments or a slum. Being the same age as us, he seemed to lean to the latter point of view.

The proprietors at the coffee shop where we stopped for our complimentary (and delicious) pastry and coffee seemed to be somewhat overwhelmed by the arrival of the three coaches from the ship. Perhaps they had already had an unexpected run on the pastries from other visitors who had arrived before us. There was a good deal of rushing around and last minute baking (or micro waving?) and the ugly side of some guests flared as they rejected goods that didn’t meet their strict requirements. I felt like saying “It’s only a freebie fancy bun you’re missing out on. Not the Danish Crown Jewells.”, but I didn’t. I’ve learned over the years to keep such witticisms to myself!!

The leisurely walking tour through the village presented so many photo opportunities that I know it will be difficult to pick examples, although I have started the sorting process. I have to say that I’m not sure, if I were an inhabitant of the village, having scores of tourists peering through my windows and over my back fence would constitute s peaceful life – one of the phrases used in the touring brochure.

Still and all it was a lovely day with lots of laughs – new best friends Carol and Reg were on the tour nd they have a lovely sense of humour, but we were happy to get back to our cabin and put our feet up. Cobbled streets are hard on old trotters and joints.

FLAT AS A TACK

Writing up diaries on our travels has always got somewhat confusing at times. This usually occurs if I do not have time to complete a summary of the day’s events on the day itself because time collapses and confuses under the assault of so much new data. For example, the day we boarded Rab had to think quite hard in answering the question “When did you arrive in UK?” The correct answer, of course, was “Yesterday morning.”, but it did indeed seem a good deal longer than that since we had touched down.

Yesterday was our first full day at sea and whilst I know I am tempting fate somewhat – because we have to come back this way and we have to traverse the notorious Bay of Biscay twice later in the cruise – but I never knew the North Sea could be so flat. The only movement of the ship that is discernible is the forward motion – and that only when glancing through a window or out on deck. The surface of the sea is like badly ironed linen – just a little creased, but with not a wave in sight. We’ve been on bumpier lakes and rivers in our time! The unseasonably warm weather has continued with temperatures in the low 20s Centigrade and there are acres of crepe skins exposed to the sun on the back deck, slowly turning pink like so many lobsters in boiling water. The ‘boutique’ shop aboard seemed to have significantly more warm weather gear in the “Special Sale – 20% off” yesterday as people who only brought their cold weather clothing started stripping down.

Somewhat ominously, there is no talk about longer term forecasts – just the statement that it looks as if we’ll have a grand day in Copenhagen and Warnemunde should be good too. What about Tallin and St Petersburg, where ten days ago the temperature was -2C? I suspect the high that is helping give us these sunny days might be on the verge of collapse. But we’ll see.

The Daily Programme delivered to our cabin each night shows the events of the following day and there was certainly plenty to choose from yesterday. We weren’t too interested in the Craft and Creation – making a doily decorated with cup cakes – but on the other hand the talk about The Business of Spying sounded promising and it was, especially so as the retired spy had spent a good deal of his time in Zambia, Zimbabwe and South Africa. Did South Africa have an atomic bomb? Did they explode one on Marian Island? He was a little coy on detail but confirmed both items. And Rab is always keen on Bingo – at least at sea! We went along to that in the afternoon having to, regrettably, miss another lecture about Britain’s secret weapons, including, apparently, a plan to defeat Hitler with oestrogen to feminise him somewhat. Clearly the emotional side of estrogen therapies had escaped the purview of the planners – unless…..maybe they did get to him. Could that account for his emotional outbursts? Ask men on hormone therapy …. Hmmmm. We were unlucky at Bingo, missing the £55 major prize by one number.

The major focus of the day however was the preparation for the Captain’s Cocktail Party that evening. Well, not for us, as we avoid these events if we can. It was always difficult to do so on the old RMS St Helena because with only 60 or 70 passengers aboard, absences might be noted. On a ship like the Marco Polo, which is pretty well up to capacity with a little over 700 passengers (served by 380 crew) no one would notice our absence, or so we thought until we received that mysterious invitation to dine with the Captain at his table. Still haven’t been able to ascertain why we were chosen. But there was a deal of primping and preparing with the nail and hair salons fully booked. As ever we went by to watch the passing show – and there were some stupendous sights. We are constantly told back in Australia that we are becoming the second most overweight society in the world, behind the USA (what about Tonga I ask??) but we wonder when we see the vast mountains of British flesh rolling around the ship. I say rolling because so many are our age or older and have hip and knee problems leading to the display of a gait which is distinctly, and perhaps appropriately nautical. The site of one of the larger ladies, dressed to the nines coming down a passage like some glittering Stone of Doom from an Indiana Jones movie was quite unnerving. Galleons in full sail also come to mind!.

We spent a fair bit of time just chatting with other people – always interesting to hear a bit about what other people get up to. It is amazing how well travelled most of them are and it shows just why the cruise business has expanded so much. Of course many of the cruises start in Britain, so living there gives a distinct advantage but the range of choices is quite amazing and many of the people we spoke to had been to Australasia, the Far East and the Americas. One of the tour guides, who is a South African girl, told us that the Amazon Cruise was always fully booked. I guess that the popularity of cruising, apart from the most obvious advantage of moving around to new and interesting places without the necessity of packing and unpacking clothes, is that you are surrounded by the comfort of being with people like you, who speak the same language, eat the same food, enjoy the same sense of humour. Going ashore in groups enhances this shared experience whilst minimising the effect of ‘foreign’ influences.

An added advantage of ‘being on the spot’ is that you can take advantage of the special fares that are inevitably offered in the last ten days or two weeks before a cruise begins. We can never take full advantage of these because usually our air fares are more costly than the cruise fares, so we have to look for cheap air fares and or cash in some frequent flyer points, all of which requires early booking. There are ‘C’mon on’ cheap cruise fares early on too, so we tend to try and pick those up. There is some small financial risk as deposits payable are not refundable in the event of cancellation – and you can’t insure for all events that might lead to cancellation – like the global collapse of savings accounts!! One of the blokes we spoke to made us laugh with his story of the folk at his dinner table all boasting about how cheaply they had got their trip. No sums were mentioned directly but one woman in particular was implying that no one could beat her and her acumen. So he threw in a casual “Did you pay less than £199, then?” to the evident deflation of the braggart.

Our little dining group is getting on pretty well and the food is good. We had smoked salmon followed by a very tasty breast of duck before going up to the Lounge for the evening show. We left that a little early because the singing and dancing were noise and confusion with, again most songs in languages other than our own.

All in all an excellent time so far with very few quibbles. The only ones of note being the very expensive WiFi connection and that fact that the dinner tables are a bit tightly packed, reducing elbow room and the ability to take a good swing at the tucker. WiFi is 90 cents a minute, reducing to 45 cents a minute if you buy in bulk – 250 minutes. That might not be too bad, but it is also very slow and loading and downloading is painful to watch. Still and all, it was good to be in touch electronically yesterday, although something has to be done about the e-mail settings since the few short mails I sent bounced with a very curious message.

CRUISING THE NORTH SEA

Having a drink on the patio in the fading sunlight before dinner on Wednesday night we chatted about the cruise. This led a short haired aggressive looking woman to ask us if we were sailing on Marco Polo and if so did we think she would be able to get a sunhat? We gave her the benefit of our collective wisdom on the subject, which is to say that she probably would be able to, but it seemed unlikely that she would need it, given the long term weather forecast. To which she responded, rather snappily that she had her ski hat for St Petersburg which she had visited on two occasions, leaving us to wonder why she had asked such ignoramuses as us for an opinion. I noted her down as a potential troublemaker to be avoided at all costs.

And I think I was right. Later in the evening she got into a steadily escalating argument with the staff about her bar bill despite all apologies and offers of suitable compensation. More trouble at breakfast the following morning about the quality of the eggs and the demand that she had a special order cooked. We’ve seen her on the ship, but have so far managed to avoid her. There are some of her ilk on every voyage and we do our best to identify them and take avoiding action sooner rather than later.

About 25 of the 122 guests in the hotel were Marco Polo passengers and we observed them with some care during our two meals. They were almost universally, older looking than we were – unless we are under some illusion about our appearance – and many of them seemed even stouter than us, which was some comfort. The exceptions to this general rule tended towards the tattooed long haired variety of heavily built men with thinning mullet hairstyles, unless they were shaved bald. Many of them seemed to be from the Northern parts of Britain, judging by their accents. All in all it looked almost as if they were the assembled cast of a reality show.

The morning mist was wreathing the autumnal trees again when we surfaced and we took a stroll around the grounds. The hotel is a converted ‘listed building’ and it must have been quite splendid in its heyday. As it is now, it has the tired look that so many British buildings have and the grounds were in a similar state of disrepair, from the deserted weed raddled tennis court to the collapsing bird bath and the grass which was uncut. It was also scored with patches where it seemed that some of the multiplicity of weeds had been dug out. Jen defended the owners on this count saying that it was likely that foxes had been busy digging after burrowing insects.

We presented ourselves at the passenger terminal at 12.45 in accordance with our boarding instructions after running into a fair bit of traffic and rounding one traffic circle three times, driving the GPS into a frenzy of re-calculations as we exchanged views with Jen about the correct exit to take. Although the warm weather was welcomed with open arms by most people after what was said to be a pretty poor summer, there were some disadvantages for us. The ship had been delayed in coming into port so the benches in the terminal were crowded with a Dantesque sweating mass of people as the crew worked at the backlog of disembarking passengers. We managed to find a perch and took our minds off the discomfort of the inferno by watching the world go by. And what sights there were – and an amazing variety of dress. A conga line of blind people went by. We had to admire their courage in undertaking a voyage like this but wondered what the relevant term would be in their group for sight seeing.

In the fullness of time our group of cabins was called up, unfortunately just as some rather grumpy passengers arrived by coach who felt that we were jumping the queue. Regrettably one of the more vociferous complainants was a fellow Australian and I got into a spot of bother from Rab for what she saw as an unnecessary brusque response, which will not be quoted here, but which I had thought to be appropriate.

The security requirements took a little time with every passenger being photographed for identity. Talking of which we were amused to see that it seems the Australian objections to steel knives on aircraft has been changed. Ever since 9/11 the cutlery supplied flying into and out of Australia consisted not of steel implements, but plastic knives. It was not clear why this distinction was made, since I always felt that a steel fork in the eye might grab the attention somewhat more than being threatened by a blunt steel knife. They are still uptight about liquids, but thank goodness the focus on batteries that was such a pain when flying after Lockerbie is no more. I wonder if terrorist threats are really so subject to change? Do they as a group just give up on the concept of battery powered timer driven devices for example?

Our cabin was larger than we had expected and with two large windows looked very attractive. Unfortunately it was on the sunny side of the ship, so it was very hot as the air-conditioning was working on low with the ships engines idling. We unpacked as quickly as we could and found a shady spot on the deck where the gentle breeze and a couple of beers lowered our internal and external temperatures satisfactorily. As sailing time approached we had a bit of activity from some of the entertainers who got the crowd singing along to some old sixties numbers. Great atmosphere and predicating a good crowd for the voyage – happily noisy as opposed to rowdy. A fine distinction perhaps. We shall see.

Boat drill followed – with more attention to detail than any we have done before. Although it was not all that pleasant standing by our life boats in the hot sun, it was comforting that the captain took this so seriously.

Dinner gave us the first chance of meeting the people we’ll be seeing regularly over the next two weeks and they seem a pretty decent bunch, although Viv, who was sitting next to me has some (perhaps all) views which do not exactly mesh with mine. When we wandered into the minefield of South Africa, a subject on which she was something of an expert having made three trips there, I suggested that we should consider the old maxim that no one changed their minds from losing an argument and that it might be better to change the subject rather than to change each other’s minds. She agreed with a shriek of laughter and we moved onto happier things.

The evening closed with the first of the variety shows in the Marco Polo Lounge. There was a bit too much ethnic dancing for our taste – what I refer to HiHi dancing because so often the high kicks and foot stomping is accompanied by shrill cries. Not that there were many such cries from the very competent dance team, but they DID go on for a good deal than we thought strictly necessary in each dance. They also demonstrated their multi-lingual ability in singing a multiplicity of songs in various unrecognisable languages. Again, the songs seemed at times interminable and somewhat repetitive – how many verses of what seems like a love song sung in Russian does anyone really want to listen to?

A small mystery developed on our return to our cabin. We received an invitation to dine with the Captain after his Cocktail Party on the following night. Why us? Who knows! But we had to decline on the basis of not being able to meet the dated dress standards of Fine Formal Wear. I’ve reluctantly brought a tie and jacket with me, but that would not be what the Captain wanted to see!!

And so to bed.

LOVELY DAY IN BRITAIN

Well, we got in 30 minutes ahead of scheduled time of arrival and Jen was there to meet us, as I knew she would, despite the early hour – we landed at 5.25 am and as first flight of the day, there were no delays – we were through Immigration and with no Customs in sight, were through like a dose of salts.

Very little traffic on the M25 – at least going our way, away from the City - and a good deal of mist around, rendering the English countryside even better than usual at sunrise. I wished we were not on the Motorway – if we had been on secondary roads, we might have been able to stop and capture some of the sights. I’m still not sure why we dashed straight down to the hotel where we are spending tonight before boarding the liner tomorrow! We could have stopped in at Jen’s place to see her new kittens; we could have had a shower there to freshen up; we could have rambled down to Tilbury through the countryside on secondary roads. But we didn’t – and so we got to the hotel a little after seven – and of course since they were full last night there was no room available for us to check in – and the Eastern European lass on the desk with her limited grasp of English told me to come back after noon.

I’m not at my best trying to deal with poor customer focus after a 26 hour transit, so I didn’t rant or rave, merely went out to the car and sent in the Fixer – my dear Rab. She chatted away to the Manager who was very decent about it all – invited us to sit and have a coffee while they got a room ready. We were in by 9.00, had a shower and shave and I felt like a new man – albeit a little tired and old.

It didn’t take Rab and Jen long to head off for the nearest shopping centre – Lakeside – said to have had some accolade when it was built about 20 years ago – the biggest or the finest or…..well, it doesn’t seem to meet any such criteria now. It looks old and tired and compared to the enormous malls in Australia seemed to be lacking in atmosphere. I spent a fair bit of time sitting on the benches while the ladies shopped so I was able to observe the locals going about their business. There were not a lot of people around –it was mid-week – although there were clusters of women, many of them frighteningly large, with babies heading for all the toilets. They certainly seem to have been breeding like flies in this part of the country. There was ample evidence of the murder of the English language from simple errors such as the plural of foot being rendered as foots as in “There was foots and foots of snow last winter.”: and biggerer for something larger than big! I know that language has to mutate and develop and the English we speak now has little bearing on that in the centuries that have passed, but it is hard on the ear to hear this devolution.

The flight across was as good as all the flights with Malaysian Airlines have been. We were a bit concerned about the strike action to be taken by the Australian Customs and Quarantine people which was scheduled for yesterday morning so we got to the airport half an hour earlier than required. As it turned out the strike was for two hours between 7 am and 9 am, so the backlog was cleared by the time we got there at 11.30 and took off on time at 14.30.

We were in a new Airbus 330 but were not that impressed with the layout and amenities compared to the 747 or 777 aircraft we usually fly on. The forward toilets require a limbo dance ability for someone my height to get close enough to avoid missing the pan. They are built into the nose of the aircraft where the roof slopes in quite sharply. Getting into the toilets also required me to slip in sideways as the passages and doorways are too narrow for my shoulders to fit through. Clearly not built with men my size in mind. The seats do convert to flatter beds, but are not quite as comfortable as the 747/777 beds, being a little shorter and slightly narrower. Not that I’m complaining because I had a couple for good hour’s sleep during the eight hour flight to Kuala Lumpur. Between sleeping we had the satays with peanut sauce which are the Malaysian Airlines signature dish and an excellent meal of curried fish.

The three hour wait in Kuala Lumpur went by swiftly and we were soon on our way just after midnight, this time in a 747 with the older, more comfortable seats, and after another round of satays and an excellent lamb shank, we turned out the lights and slept like logs for more than four hours. Of course that left us with about 8 or 9 hours to go on our 12+ hours leg to London so we watched a couple of shows before having another snooze. I had about 7 hours sleep altogether – enough to keep me going until 10.30 tonight. As we were served breakfast at 40,000 feet having travelled over 6,000 miles from Kula Lumpur with 1,000 miles to go, I couldn’t help but wonder, as I often do when we are travelling, how casually we take this amazing ability to cover such enormous distances in such a short time – at relatively little cost. It would have taken my ancestor Dutch East India Company captain more than 6 months to get to Kuala Lumpur from Amsterdam and just as long to get back on a journey full of danger and risk.