Coming home

The last day of a cruise is not only sad (holiday ending) but also a bit bleak. As a cruiser I suddenly feel dispossessed. The room that has been mine for 10 days is suddenly mine no longer. In fact, a firm note tells me that I must be out of it, with my remaining belongings, by 8am. (My suitcase had been put outside the stateroom door the night before.) I know the times that the restaurants close (8:30 being the latest) and the time by which I must be off the ship (9am) so that my room and the public areas can be cleaned for another set of guests. I am no longer welcome.

Of course, the best-laid plans do not always work. The Civitavecchia port officials had a few problems and could not process all the guests quickly enough. Some were lined up, sitting on stairs and just waiting; others were in the theatre waiting their turn to be called for the lines (processed in order of when their transfers were due to get them to the airport for their flights - I wonder if any of them missed out); those of us who were travelling independently and in no hurry for flights were asked to wait until last, so we relaxed in the most comfortable armchairs we could find.

It was a hot day and I had a long way to travel. My flight was not until 6:45, so I had hours to get from the port of Civitavecchia to Rome airport. I could have taken an official transfer, for around $US200, and arrived by about 11am, after 2 hours in a coach. (I've done that before when it was included in the fare.) I could have taken a taxi for 200 euros. Instead, I took the port shuttle bus to the edge of the port, I walked for 500 metres to the train station, and then I took local trains to the airport (changing at Rome Trastevere) for 11 euros! I had plenty of time and nothing to do for the day, so was happy to save the money. I had gone armed with 2 rolls from the breakfast buffet and 2 drink bottles full of ice and topped off with Coke Light, so felt fortified for the journey. (However, by the end of it I was left feeling that I will never again fly out of Rome in Summer with a HEAVY suitcase. I must learn to pack light!) 

I arrived at the airport with 5 hours before my flight, 2 hours before I could check in. Luckily I had booked assistance for this flight. I knew I could make it by myself if all went right, but if anything went wrong I would be in trouble. (I was justified in this decision, as I reached the point where I could hardly speak sense, and that was 2 hours before my flight, which is always an indication that the Chronic Fatigue is at a bad point.) Because of having booked assistance, I was able to sit in an air-conditioned lounge for 2.5 hours before booking in, I was taken by wheelchair or motorised vehicle over long distances, I was able to board the plane in the first wave (which is great as I cannot stand for long in a queue), and at the end of my journey I was taken straight through passport control instead of waiting in a 2-hour queue. (I remember my last trip home from Australia where I ended up having to sit on the floor under one of the queuing tapes, and wait for my section of the queue to walk around and back opposite where we'd been. That was only a 10-minute queue. I would never have survived a 2-hour queue!)

All the arrangements for getting home worked fine: the Hoppa bus arrived within 10 minutes to take me to the hotel; I managed to find my car with no difficulty (though had trouble working out the exit system); traffic was light and I stayed awake while driving home! I was home by about 10:30 (though 11:30 Rome time).

It was a great holiday. I very much appreciate my travel concierge company, WEXAS, for sending me the email alerting me to the cruise, and for their part in giving me the $US500 onboard spend. This paid for my gratuities, hours of internet time so I could post the blog, a vintage brooch from the gift shop, and a few glasses of wine to celebrate!

Livorno (for Pisa)

Our ship was docked at Livorno, which is the port from which one travels to either Florence or Pisa. That morning, for the first time on a cruise I was disturbed by the stateroom attendant. She knocked on my door at 8.30, thinking I was away on a tour. She was apologetic when I answered the door in my bathrobe! I decided it was time to get up anyway, and was ready to leave by 10:00. 

I had another first at breakfast. I saw three of the local customs officials (complete with guns and handcuffs) wandering around the breakfast buffet and getting food. I asked one of the waiters if it is one of the perks of the job, and he said it is a general occurrence. The ship lines do not mind, as it makes sure the ships are cleared for passengers to go ashore. However, in poorer places like India and some of the South American countries, the dining room often fills up with people who work in the port plus their relatives: ‘I’m a cousin of the man who holds open the door’, etc. I’m happy to have some of the obscenely excessive food being used that way! In other places the officials leave with their pockets stuffed full of whisky and cigarettes.

Today was planned to be an adventurous day. When I look back at the various ports I’ve visited, I smile more when I remember the days I have used public transport and done things a little bit differently. For this day I planned to go to Pisa by myself. I’d researched it on the internet, and checked with the Tourist Information Officer who came on our ship with maps and general help. 

Oceania rarely provides a shuttle bus into town, so I had to start with a 10-minute walk to one of the main squares in the shopping street. The instructions were clear and the map was a help. From there I caught the Number 1 bus to the train station. The bus was full before I got on, and about 10 people got on after me! I was a bit irritated with an older man who kept swaying against me and almost leaning on me as we moved. Then after about 5 minutes he offered me a seat and made his grandson get up so I could sit down. It shows how easy it is to misjudge people! The bus ride to the station took about 10 minutes.

At the station I had a 30-minute wait for the train to Florence, stopping at Pisa. I always stay alert in foreign countries, so when I heard a garbled message in Italian I checked and discovered that our train had moved platforms. No problems.

On the train I ended up in conversation with two Italian women. One of them could speak English but the other couldn’t. They were concerned about the tourist travelling by herself and didn’t want me to be ripped off. Although I explained that I was not really worried about eating, the non-English-speaking woman insisted on me following her so she could take me to a cafe where the locals eat. She also said she’d take me by train to the local stop for the Tower rather than the bus. I dutifully followed in her footsteps saying an occasional ‘Si’ or ‘Bella’ and then found she was going to sit with me at the cafe. I really did not want to eat but ended up with a croissant and a coffee while she had a cappuccino. I think they were concerned about me and would have liked me to eat a full meal of spaghetti bolgnese, but I could not face anything in the heat. This kind woman was all ready to pay for me but I insisted on paying. She’d taken me to the right place; it cost less than one coffee anywhere else. She walked me to a shop to buy a ticket for the bus back, then to the entrance to the Duomo complex and then showed me where the bus would go from – all this without a word of English. The kindness of strangers! I wish I’d taken her photo.

I had seen photos of the Leaning Tower but had always noticed the lean rather than the beauty of the Tower itself. I loved the white marble facing and the many arches. It was difficult to get a good photo as digital cameras have a tendency to cause things to lean anyway, and so I was afraid they would actually straighten the Tower. The lean shows up best when looked at next to other buildings.

 I stood in the usual queue to visit the toilets and then bought a ticket for the cathedral itself. I was not interested in walking up the Tower. It was a hot day and I needed to conserve energy.

I walked through the town, wandering up side streets at random, in confidence that I would find my way back because of the Tower.

 I was amused by the translation of this sign on a garage door.

Being in Italy meant that I had to buy an ice cream. Another first: I ended up throwing it away! I had bought a lemon gelati that was both too sickly sweet and too revoltingly sour (artificial lemon flavour).

Of course, the area was full of tourist traps.

The return journey was easy: bus to the train station, train to Pisa, bus to the square and then walk to the ship. I chatted with interesting people all the way back.

Being the last day of the cruise meant that I arrived in my stateroom to find my suitcase on my bed, all ready for me to pack after my last Afternoon Tea. The end of a holiday is always a sad time.

Because my birthday is the day we leave the ship, I celebrated it at dinner on the last evening. The waiters came and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and brought me a lovely cake. Such fun. Laurence (on the right) was my waiter each night. She was lovely! It was a pleasure to go to dinner to see her smiling face.

Manny, the Head Waiter, always made sure that my coffee was weak! He always greeted me with a big smile. He arranged the birthday cake for me.

Monte Carlo

Tired, tired, tired!. Even although I’d slept until 10am, it hadn’t been enough. My muscles were aching and I started to weep whenever I undertook mild activity, such as talking to people at breakfast. This is a sign of exhaustion. Luckily we had 2 days in Monte Carlo, so I did not need to push myself.

The ship was moored out at sea (as there only seems to be one cruise ship berth and a Princess line ship was there), so getting to Monte Carlo was via tender. That seemed a step too far in my fragile condition. I had a quiet morning, looking at views of Monaco in the distance. It’s very rocky and both days there was low cloud cover.

At lunchtime. I was still tired and weepy so I spent the afternoon on my balcony reading and watching the tenders going back and forth.

We were able to moor in Monte Carlo harbour at 8pm, but that was too late for me. By then I’d had room service dinner and was ready for bed at 8.30. I decided it was better to have a good day the next day.

I was woken at 8 by one of the regular announcements, and decided to get moving. I felt much better than I had the day before. I was ready to leave the ship by 10am.

My original plan had been to take local buses around for the day, as they seemed to go to more places than the Hoho bus (and were much cheaper). However, seeing how tired I’d been, I thought it might be better to take the less adventurous option and go on the Hoho bus. Big mistake! (I discovered later that the Information Office does not recommend the Hoho bus and does not even carry its brochures. I wish I’d stopped there on my way through the port.) The Hoho circuit around Monaco takes about an hour. Unfortunately the plug-in part for my headphones didn’t work. It would not change channels. I used the one in the seat next to me, but the bus filled up at the next stop, so I lost that. Someone behind found one for me that was not being used, which was useful. I did not dare get off the bus as ours was full and there were queues at every stop.

I completed the circuit and got off back at the ship for a quick visit to the toilet, with the intention of getting on the next bus. There was a long queue and the only reason I could get on was that there one one seat free, and everyone else was in pairs. However, once again the plug didn’t work – for our whole section of the bus. We’d plug in and adjust the channel for English, but get Spanish. We’d pull the plug slightly and get another language, then a few words of English, then back to Spanish. We all moved seats as soon as we could.

My plan was to visit the Exotic Garden. I stayed on the Hoho bus for half an hour to get to that stop, and then was told that I had to catch a local bus to actually get there, but the Hoho bus ticket would be accepted. The local Line 2 bus took me back around the port area where I’d been, before dropping me at the entrance to the gardens! The Exotic Garden was very interesting – full of a multitude of cacti.

 It was set on one of the cliffs, so lots of steps and lovely lookout points over the city.

Our ship, the Riviera (Oceania line) is the one in the centre of the photo above. Behind it is a ship in the position where we had been the previous day - at anchor in the bay.

I knew there was a limestone cave, and heard that there were hourly tours and the next one departed in 30 minutes. I rather rushed my time in the gardens to get to the cave in time. I was not quite so happy when I discovered it was 300 steps down, and then another 300 steps up. I started out with the group (and a French guide) but gave up after about 7 minutes. It was bad enough when the steps were concrete, but we reached a point where they were metal with gaps between the bars. It reminded me of a few nightmares I’ve had. I turned back. It was no doubt very naughty of me, as I’m sure we were meant to stay with the guide, but I’m glad I did it. I was puffing and panting enough when I got back to the top. How would I have managed if I’d gone any further down? Of course, when I reached the entrance I found a barrier across it – but there was just space for me to crawl under it, and no officials were looking at that moment.

 I puffed and panted my way back to the top of the gardens, to the exit, just in time for the Line 2 bus again.

The driver was very helpful and told me where to get off for the Casino. I knew I had to visit the Casino for my mother and sister! Apart from that, I’d read that it was a wonderful building and I’d been interested to hear of its importance to Monaco. Originally the country made its money from the sale of lemons, but then the main lemon-growing towns seceded and became independent protectorates of Sardinia. The country was broke. The Prince’s son eventually came up with the idea of a casino, in order to attract the wealthy of the day. It worked.

There were crowds of people outside the Casino, as it was closed for another 10 minutes. On the dot of 2pm we streamed in, with many being turned back at the door as they were wearing shorts. I was sent to the cloakroom to leave my camera, as these were completely banned. The rooms inside were sumptuously decorated. It was well worth a visit.

From there I caught a Line 6 bus back to the ship. At the port there were long lines of people waiting to get on tenders to get back to the other ship that was moored out at sea. They had 4,000 people on board (our ship has about 1,000), so they had a long wait ahead of them.

Afternoon tea was as splendid as ever, and afterwards the magician gave a private show in the lounge. It started with 2 people but grew to about 15. No matter how closely I watched, I could not see how he was doing those tricks!

Marseille

Another slow morning! I had not worked out anything I desperately wanted to see, so I knew I could take things easy. The bonus for this was that I was on hand as the crew practised a lifeboat drill, lowering the one just below my balcony. It was obvious that a new person was being trained in operating things from the lifeboat: ‘Pull!’, ‘Pull harder’, ‘Hold it with both hands’, and so on.

The port provided shuttle buses every half hour to take us to the old area of town, which was very useful. Unfortunately I arrived just 5 minutes after one had gone, and had to wait for the next one. We were not left in any distinguishing place in the town, so I had to take careful note of all the streets I walked along. It’s easy going one way, following signs to the Old Port, but there are no signs pointing back to the shuttle bus!

I had a choice of the little tourist trains or the Hoho (Hop-on, hop-off) bus, so chose the bus. Unfortunately it only goes every hour, and I had half an hour to wait. I felt as though the whole port area was lined with yachts on the water side and restaurants on the other side, with loads of construction signs inbetween. I chose a restaurant at random to buy a lemonade in order to use the toilet. I passed by a couple of young Frenchmen who spoke to me. Perhaps they got a shock when I turned around and they saw my age. All they said then was ‘Belle coiffeur’ (nice haircut) and smiled.

The Hoho bus was hot (as I was on top in order to see the sights). We drove around the bay, seeing the Chateau d’If in the distance – famous from Dumas’ novel. It looked very like an upmarket sandcastle, with the colour of the stone blending into the cliffs.

The drive along the coast road was lovely.

One thing I had hoped to see was Notre Dame de la Garde, high on the hill overlooking the bay, keeping watch over the people of Marseille. Unfortunately it would have meant a rather steep walk and a delay of 90 minutes until the next bus came along, or a ride down on the road train. That can wait for my next visit! (Hopefully on my next visit I’ll take more photos, as I only have 5 to show for today’s visit, none of them brilliant!)

I found my way back to the shuttle bus with no difficulty, and for once no waiting!

Barcelona

After a slow start to the morning (stayed in bed until 9:30) I set off to explore Barcelona. I’ve been here before for a long weekend, so had seen a lot of the sights. I wanted to major on a couple of places I hadn’t seen: Casa Batlo (I ran out of time and energy last time) and Palau Guell (renovation only completed in 2011), both of them works by Gaudi. Palau Guell was an early work, and he designed and built the whole building; Casa Batlo was a late work and involved gutting and renovating an existing building.

Finding these places involved walking up La Rambla (the ship was docked in the port just at the bottom of this famous street) and then along Passeig de Gracia. The weather was sunny and the temperature was around 26 degrees, so the walk was no hardship. Along the way I saw a protest of some sort: no idea what it was about, though I was interested in view of all the protests we’ve read about because of measures to control the economy.

There was a 5-10 minute queue to get into Casa Batlo, and it cost €18.50 (to pay for restoration work) but it was worth it. 

We were able to see the old home of the Batlo family on the ground floor, and then go up the staircase, past various apartments, to see the attics and the roof. This was more than just a building. Gaudi designed the stair rails and the windows and doors, and even ventilation systems. His attention to detail was incredible. The stair rails were ergonomically designed before the word was even invented.

The building has a central light well for both light and ventilation. The tiles at the top are a darker colour than those at the bottom, so that from the bottom they all look the same colour. 

The windows at the top are smaller than at the bottom, as more light floods into the top floors from the light well.

 I loved the various shapes of the doors and windows, and they way they curved to fit the walls. It was based on a marine theme, and the colours and shapes reflect this. This is one of the doors.

Even on the roof, the shapes are like those of a giant sea dragon. One detail mentioned by the commentary that I could not find is a small window on the roof looking towards Sagrada Familia, which Gaudi was in the process of building as he finished Casa Batlo.

One thing I had noticed on the streets was the wonderful tessellated tiles, with a linked design. I discovered that they were designed by Gaudi, to be made in ceramics for Casa Batlo, though used in another house instead. How lovely that the city has adopted this design for its streets.

I walked back towards the ship, stopping at Palau Guell on the way. This was a much darker building. Rather than the fanciful tiles and shapes of Casa Batlo (and La Pedrera that I saw on my last visit), this was marble and wrought iron and wood – upright rather than curving, and extremely detailed. I did not like it nearly as much. It lacked the light of his other buildings, though it still showed the practical ingenuity in things like ventilation, and it had wonderful parabolic curves (compared with the quaternary curves of Casa Batlo). I did not feel inspired to take photos, except on the roof which had the fanciful chimneys and undulating curves of the roof that I’d seen a few years ago at La Pedrera (though La Pedrera’s were more numerous and more fanciful).

Valencia

After going to sleep last night about 11pm, I finally woke up this morning at 10am! I had already woken and gone back to sleep a few times during the night, and I’m sure I could have slept further this morning if I’d let myself. In fact, I regretted not staying in bed for longer. Yesterday had obviously been a bit too much for me – though worth it – as not even a can of Coke Light and a few squares of chocolate could give me the energy to go out. That was okay as I had not planned much for Valencia, just in case it was the day I crashed. There was nothing that I had a burning desire to see.

The ship docked at midday, with the plan of attaching a ramp to the ship so people could progress to an overhead walkway and stay out of the busy port area. See where the two connect? (These photos are taken from my balcony, which is almost the centre of the ship, so gives me a great view of docking procedures.)

However, one size does not fit all and it could not connect at the other end with the ship.

The staff had to work hard to put out the gangway and portable barriers to make sure no one was run over by a car or walked into the water.

I spent my early afternoon sorting photos from the day before and catching up on Wednesday’s blog. It seems that they were testing the satellite connection, as once again I was not asked to log in and must have connected to the internet for free. That was probably the reason why it took about twice as long as usual to upload each photo.

Seeing this is an American ship, I thought I’d better sample a Texan hamburger for lunch. Very nice – but only once a year.

From the afternoon tea room I was able to see part of the Formula 1 race track, all ready for the big race the next day.

Granada

I remember as a child reading one of the ‘What Katy Did’ books where she referred to ‘the corrigodors of the Alhambra’. I eventually worked out that she meant ‘corridors’ but what stuck in my mind for years was the name ‘Alhambra’ and its association with beauty and splendour. I never dreamt that one day I would have the opportunity to see it for myself.

I had originally planned to book a ship’s excursion to Granada and the Alhambra, but realised that I would be very disappointed if I got on the ship and found that all the excursions were full (as ended up happening with Gibraltar). That meant I had the choice of paying £144 up front for the ship’s excursion (which included a lunch that I would have considered a waste of time) or €92 for the same excursion (minus the lunch) with Spain Day Tours, a local company found through the Cruise Critic internet group. I opted for the latter, but was almost too late to get on this tour! I was originally waitlisted, but phoned them on the Friday before leaving and found they had room for me.

I think our group must have been first off the ship, but unfortunately our bus had to wait for the 20 ship’s buses to pull in. Our bus driver had argued to no avail, having been told that Oceania had only docked at Motril on the assurance that their buses would be given priority over any others. However, it only delayed us by 10 minutes, and we still beat half of their buses away.

We had a good group of people, probably the more adventurous ones on the cruise. I teamed up with Pam, whose husband and other friends had not been interested in going. It took about 45 minutes to get to the Alhambra (a UNESCO recognised site), where we were split into groups of 14, each with a guide.

The Alhambra is an incredible example of Moorish architecture (from the period when the African Muslims ruled Spain), with very detailed moulding showing Arabic writing on the walls (and other more ancient writing that does not survive in book form as the Christians burned all the books when they reconquered Spain), and wonderful tesselated patterns. 

Much of the decoration is unfortunately too ornate for my limited camera and photographic skills.

The rooms are arranged around central courtyards, all with flowing water. It is a wonder of shade and greenery among the surrounding hot bare hills.

 This was possibly the inspiration for the Taj Mahal.

The summer palace is situated in such a position that it catches the breeze. The architecture is simple but the decoration is ornate. The windows are set low down, so the view can be seen while seated on the ground.

Ferdinand and Isabella took over the complex, as did subsequent Spanish monarchs, and changed parts of it, but it still retains much of the Moorish splendour.

The Alhambra is such a popular site that the number of people allowed through per day is restricted to about 7,500, and one goes in with timed tickets so that not too many people are in the palaces at any one time. During the peak tourist season, there are long queues for those who have not booked ahead or booked with a tour company, and some people miss out on getting in. The last thousand people are only allowed tickets for the gardens, which are modern.

I had not realised before how bare and barren the hills of Spain are. Places with springs and streams must have been valued down through the centuries.

From the Alhambra, our bus took us to Granada. Pam and I had lunch near the drop-off point and then explored briefly and found the start of the old town. It would have been better to explore that first and eat at a cafe in an old square. Next time!

The drive back showed us some of the ways Spain has benefited from being in the EU. Our guide (British, now living in Spain) reminded us that it was not too long ago that Spain was under the rule of a dictator, and the people are still struggling to develop the mindset of a modern, democratic country. The highway we travelled along was only built about ten years ago with EU money; before that, we would have been on narrow winding roads. The reservoir we passed was also an EU project. Some of the hilltop towns we passed looked more like those you see in Morocco than towns in Europe, and she felt that much of the way of thinking was also similar.

I ate dinner that night with Pam, her husband, and her two friends. We were amused to find that we were in next-door staterooms on the ship!

Casablanca

The Awakening: After waking many times in the night with banging noises, I successfully ignored what sounded like a repeated knock on the door at 7am. I still don’t know what caused all the banging while we were underway (unless we were swaying enough for the picture on my wall to be moving) but I will be keeping a close eye on it when we set off this afternoon.

The Transfer: Casablanca Port is large, so shuttle buses operate every half hour to get us to the entrance to the port. Fortunately the drop-off point is right next to the Sofitel and Novotel hotels, which should provide an easy place to find in order to go home.

The Gauntlet: As soon as we were off the bus, taxi drivers came rushing, wanting to take us to see all the sights. They showed maps and offered about 3 hours for €30. While the price seemed okay for that time, it was not what I wanted to do. They didn’t take any notice of the fact that I only wanted to go to the New Medina and be left to wander, but kept showing me more and more places on the map. I managed to extricate myself and walk on.

The Exchange: I found a bank and exchanged £20 for about 260 dirahim. I thought it was more than I would need for the day, but I felt happier having local money. It’s a closed currency so I had not been able to get any in England, and it’s not available on the ship.

The Encounter: Walking up the street I ran into a couple who I had met at lunch on the first day. Like me, they had been put off by the taxis so were simply wandering.

The Taxi: I found a taxi driver prepared to take me to the Habbous (the New Market) and brought his price down from 150 dirahim (seemed excessive at over £12 when earlier drivers had been offering 3 hours for €30) to 70 dirahim. I invited the other couple to come with me. As we drove, I found it was further than I expected and debated giving him more money to make it closer to what I would expect to pay in Oxford. However, the taxi was run-down, no air conditioning, no seat belt in the front, and I had read prices on the internet and knew we were already paying above the rate.

The Sting: When we arrived the taxi driver told me he had negotiated the 70 dirahim for just me. Now there were three of us we should be paying that amount each! He kept trying to hand the 70 dirahim back. I wasn’t having that. I told him a price was a price. I handed him an extra 20 and we all got out.

The Wander: We had been dropped just outside a mosque, so walked around and enjoyed the Moorish architecture and decoration. We could not see inside; tourists are only allowed inside the new mosque, closer to the port. We could not see any market stalls and wondered if our unfriendly taxi driver had dropped us at the wrong place!

The Shop: The people wandering by could only speak French, but one kindly went into a local shop and brought out the English-speaking shopkeeper to help us. He invited us to wander around his shop, which used to be an old house, and to take photos. He had several rooms of dusty goods for sale but was helpful rather than pressured. My friends bought a wooden camel but I just enjoyed the old architecture and ambience. When we left I gave him 20 dirahim to buy himself a drink and remember us. He rushed back into the shop and followed us out and gave his business card and a key ring to both Lorraine and me. A lovely encounter.

The Market: We turned a corner and found stall after stall of goods. We were in the right place after all. None of them had the atmosphere of the shop we’d visited – or the dust, either. I was impressed that no one pressured us to buy.

The Police: As we wandered further we came to a military installation, guarded by a policeman and a soldier. Evidently the gentleman with me (whose name I’ve forgotten) saluted them and they snapped to attention and saluted back. I’m not sure if this fooled them into thinking we were official, but when we asked where we could find a taxi, the policeman stood in the road for about five minutes until an empty taxi came by that he could flag down for us.

The Translation Problems: The policeman and taxi driver spoke French; we spoke English. We thought it would be simple asking to be taken back to the port. I mentioned the names of the hotels but it didn’t seem to mean anything. I tried ‘le bateau’ and ‘le mer’ but didn’t get far until the policeman said ‘le porrte’. Aha, same word but just change the accent! Then I tried ‘Novotelle’ and the French accent made the words reconisable.

The Traffic: Our taxi forced itself into the smallest of spaces in incredibly crowded traffic. We had one instance of road rage, but our driver kept smiling all through what seemed to be a heated exchange. He exchanged a few comments with me in French. While driving through a crowded market he leant across me and locked the door, saying ‘les voleurs’ (thieves). He took us to the hotels but on the wrong road, but we communicated enough to get him to turn left and then left again, where we found the shuttle bus and the line of taxis. This taxi had been on a meter, so the cost was only about 13 dirahim (less than a pound)! However, I gave him my remaining 150 dirahim as it was no use to me. (The moral: in Casablanca, if you are on a budget, make sure you get a taxi that operates by meter rather than by price, and have local money.)

The Welcome: As we got off the shuttle bus at the ship, there was local music playing and a double line of ship’s staff standing, clapping their hands as we walked between them. We had time for a drink together before lunch.

Gibraltar

Although I woke a few times in the night, I slept well, waking about 9:20. The noise of the ship can’t have been as bad as I was warned.

It was very misty outside and I was worried that visibility might be bad. Gibraltar was one of the highlights of my trip and I did not want to miss it. When the family emigrated to Australia in 1953, Gibraltar was one of our stops. I can’t remember anything about it. However, in Grade 6 at school we did a project about travelling from England to Australia and that was the time that Gibraltar (and Colombo, Aden and Port Said) came alive to me as names. I stood at the ship’s rails and thought of the adventurous nature of my father, taking his whole family to a new country in search of a better life, and of my mother who travelled with him, managing three children under the age of five.

I had planned to go up the rock on one of the ship’s excursions, but did not book until I arrived at the ship (as I had been given $US500 onboard spend as part of my ticket promotion, and could not use it to book the ticket before leaving). I discovered that the tour was full, with 30 on the wait list! There are not enough small buses in Gibraltar to take everyone up the rock. I therefore teamed up with some others from the Cruise Critic group.

We were ready to leave the ship as soon as the gangway was open. Then we walked ... and walked ... and walked.

First we walked the 2 kms to the cable car, passing a few bold macanques on the way.

There was a queue and half an hour’s wait for the cable car, but when we finally got on we had pride of place, right at the back, overlooking the harbour and the ship. Unfortunately it was a hazy day so our view was not as good as the photographers would have liked.

In the doorway of the gift shop, I ended up in a face-off situation with a macanque. I knew they could be vicious so I stood still. He rushed indoors and I took my chance of getting out. The shop keeper bribed him out with an ice cream bar.

The rock was even more impressive than I had expected.

We started our walk downhill, stopping to see St Michael’s Cave with its incredible stalactites and stalagmites. The formations were wonderful, though lacking in the colour I have seen in other caves. It was incredible to think we were actually inside the Rock at that point.

We somehow missed the Apes’ Den, though we saw enough on the road to suit our interests. We stopped to look at a Moorish fort on the way and admired the vegetation that grew in wayside gardens. One common plant grows huge leaves in my Radley garden but hardly ever flowers. On the Rock it grew wonderful flower spikes but the leaves were sparse and completely withered. It must need more sunshine and less water than it gets in the UK! I was impressed by the hardiness of vegetation, growing wherever it could on the limestone cliffs.

Back in the town the party split up, with three going off shopping while the remaining three of us caught a local bus that took us close to the ship. I was back on the ship in time to sample Oceania’s example of Afternoon Tea – complete with scones/clotted cream and Victoria Sandwich. Afterwards I sat on the balcony with my feet up, ice on my right knee, and a book. It was a well-deserved rest.