So after more than 3 months of not being able to venture any further into the land of the free than the inside of the embarkation terminal where we dock every week, I finally managed to go have a wonder round the U.S and A, heading straight for what is supposedly one of the few things worth checking out in Fort Lauderdale, the Las Olas promenade. I had a stroll along the surprisingly busy beach and before long decided to mark the occasion with a trip to that most American of institutions, Hooters. After leaving somewhat disappointed with the food and lack of Owls in the place I strolled along the beach some more and managed to spot a fair few Redbreasts, which went some way to putting a smile back on my face, though not for long as I soon realised that I too, was getting redder by the minute and didn’t have any suncream. Christ knows what it’s like in summer….
As I mentioned last time, voyage #302 was a bit different as my parents and 2 grandmas climbed aboard for the week, which (despite them not bringing the dog) was ace. After having a look around I got the feeling they were quite impressed with the size of my office, in particular the Lido deck, where Grams Farm expressed delight at being able to eat as much dessert as she wanted whilst giving an often uncomfortably loud running commentary on the size of the many oversized fellow passengers walking past our table….
Grams Clock had wanted to come on a cruise all her life, and at the spritely age of 84 finally managed to do it, which was obviously very cool. (Incidentally, this blog’s title came from a very cool 91 year old Canadian gent, who, when asked if he’d like a picture declined with that particular reply – what a legend!) Her legendary status amongst grandparents was also firmly cemented by her bringing me some Yorkshire Tea – score!
As I expected, I got some stick from the ‘rents for arguably bearing more resemblance to a dialysis patient than someone who’s been working in the Caribbean for months, but after a couple of days here I think there was little doubt as to why I still haven’t let Mr. Sun have his wicked way with me – were it not for good old factor 30 I’d probably be close to a different ethnicity by now….
Anyhoo, after being brought up to speed on what’s been going on back home whilst I’ve been away (we have -16 degree winters now? Yikes!), I also discovered that my frequent urges to jump off things from great heights is actually inherited, as my parents both mentioned having random Lemming - like urges to jump off the side of the ship whilst they were walking round the prom deck on their own at night. For once though, I can claim to be the lesser idiot, as the only time I’ve properly considered jumping off the ship is when we dock at Grand Turk - i.e. when the ship isn’t actually moving and the water is bluer than Billy Connolly’s mouth. Jumping off at night when you’re gonna get left behind and not have much of a view just seems a tad joyless to me. Just sayin’.
Anyhoo, the first stop of their cruise was Half Moon Cay, where the awesome foursome went off on a glass bottom boat tour, leaving me to do some work. Bah!
Me ma was somewhat overwhelmed by the fact that the sea was actually as blue as it appeared in my pictures, but I’m not usually one for overly doctoring my images (well, apart from the main one on the last blog of course, but we’ll come to that later). We then all hit the beach for all too brief a time, as we had to make sure we didn’t miss the last tender back to the ship, though I’m pretty sure we’d have found a way to cope if we had been left behind on the island….
The first port day was in Aruba, where we hopped on a bus tour with a driver who possessed a blantant disregard for speedbumps and who, for some reason was even more obsessed with local property prices than your average Englishman. He took us to some bigass rocks, encouraged us to vent anger at the island’s Tax Office and was even kind enough to give us an extended close up viewing of the local flaura and fauna by the side of the road when we got a puncture halfway through the tour and had to wait for another bus to come pick us up. After that, we were shown the island’s lighthouse, then drove along the main strip of beaches and hotels on the way back to the ship, where we were told the story about one of the wrecks lying offshore from World War 2, whose captain, upon being surrounded, he didn’t particularly want to give ze germans the benefit of all his fuel and supplies onboard, so set the ship ablaze and sank it instead. What a badass!
The next day was spent in Curacao, where we had a wonder round Willemstad before succumbing to the heat and stopping off at a waterside Café to cool off. Whilst we sat there largely failing to do so, Stairway to Heaven came on and all my cares faded away while I air guitared like a bandit. Epic. (In case you’re wondering why it was such a big deal I should perhaps explain that there seems to be an unwritten rule that wherever the sun shines in the Caribbean you must play Reggae in a public space. Personally, Reggae is something that’s always baffled me, as I’ve never been able to understand how people can take quite so long to say absolutely bugger all in a song. I mean, I know they’re all mashed and everything, but seriously!)
Anyway, that afternoon we headed to Mambo beach, one of the only non - coral beaches on the island, where I learnt that the sea water in Curacao is probably the most salty you’ll ever taste and that apparently you’re never too old to be told off for diving off rocks by your mother. Good times!
The last day was spent at sea heading back to Fort Lauderdale, where my Dad shocked us all by saying he was going to give himself a treat and have an acupuncture session, though as I suspected, claims of such wild indulgence on his part wouldn’t come to much – I think he was worried about being made to feel a bit of a prick or something. One thing which did materialise however was a trip up to the bridge, where we given an impromptu tour, during which we learned that despite all the technological gubbins they have on the ship they still park it by eye, and that we spend a lot of time sailing in water that’s a helluva lot shallower than you’d think. Eek. (Random fact: The top 10 feet of the ocean holds as much heat as our entire atmosphere)
The week went past even quicker than usual, and no sooner had I got used to having them around it was time for the brits abroad to hop back across the pond, having experienced a week in my somewhat surreal life.
Randomly enough the last blog’s main picture of me pretending to have missed the ship was almost all too appropriate for this particular installment, as after renting some dune buggies and quads to celebrate Serhat’s birthday in San Maarten, most of the photog team came very, very close to doing just that, after having too much fun and underestimating how long it’d take for us to get back to the ship. Although the drive was no real distance from where we’d stopped, for some reason San Maarten has a traffic problem to rival that of even good ol’ blighty, which obviously makes getting anywhere a challenge, especially if you’re in a hurry. After rocking up to the rental place, the guys there were kind enough to give us a lift back to the terminal and we all had to literally sprint down the gangway to avoid an extended stay in Phillipsburg, eventually all making it onboard with just a few slapped wrists and red faces. (I discovered yesterday that they don’t screw about if you do miss the boat either – one crew member did just that in San Juan, somehow managed to hitch a ride to our next port with another ship, but was then told that he needn’t have bothered and would have been better off simply buying a flight back home…) The merriment continued that evening in the bar, where I rediscovered that lighting your body parts is always amusing and that headstands are waaaay easier than I’d previously thought, even on a listing ship. Having acquired my new skill though, for once someone else took it upon themselves to take things too far, as Kenny busted a bit too big a headstand and smashed one of the picture frames on the wall, giving himself a glass shower in the process. Oops. Still, as he left that week it certainly gave us something to remember him by. Good skills, Goose!
Finally, the team has been on the receiving end of some rather ironic surveillance just recently, as one particular member of (in)security has taken it upon themselves to photograph us in the process of committing such heinous crimes as walking along with hands in our pockets, or, in my own case - for shame - drinking a coffee behind the photo desk in the gallery whilst on duty and sending them to our manager. I’ve let it slide the once, but I’m buggered if I’m going to put up with being spied on, so tune in next time to see whether I’ve been forced to give said wannabe paparazzi a taste of their own medicine by sending a (seamlessly photoshopped) image of him doing immoral things to a sheep to every single person on the ship……..
Thanks for reading.
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