Bacharach and Champagne

 

Borealis Monday 8th May 2023

The sky is grey and overcast and the sea is likewise grey with a moderate swell. Actually those words sound familiar. Have I said that somewhere before? 

In the morning I prepared and polished up the text I wrote on the 3 day visit to India. I sent it to Regina Wasiak-Taylor who seemed keen to publish an excerpt of my blog for her literary journal "Pamietnik Literacki". She wanted to publish the first couple of days of the blog starting with the day of embarkation as a way of introducing the ship and to explain the purpose of my journey. Howewer, as my journey had no purposes in that sense, then I did not think that a good idea. I prepared my blog several months earlier than the start of the cruise and my mixed feelings about it cannot be encompassed in one day's entryin February.

At lunchtime the Captain announced we were just 255 miles from Flores, one of the Azore Islands, and pointed out that the sea was calmer now than in the morning. It was still overcast but somehow lighter as if the clouds could break soon and show some sunlight. 

I had sorted out how to distribute the gratuity money totalling £790, based on the formula of £5 per guest per day,  with proper provision for our housekeeper and for the staff at the View buffet restaurant. As we had given up eating at the posh Borealis Restaurant quite early we saw no pint diverting any gratuity there, as otherwise they would have got as much as £400 from us. I asked to save some money for the Guest Services themselves and something for Shiri of course. Gratuities is a messy business at the best of times, but this way Fred Olsen distributes the money for you tidily in accordance with you wishes.

I picked up the remainder of the photos taken by Fred Olsen photographic staff of us as the gangplank at each port. I then went to a lecture by Dr Roy Paul on Jules Verne at the Neptune Theatre. To my surprise, my rather pleasant surprise, Dr Paul referred to my lecture a month ago. The reason it was surprising was that I have never spoken or even met Dr Paul before and he joined the vessel long after I had made the lecture. I can only assume he was briefed by Sammy or Tom about my contribution. 

Albina was still staying in the cabin all day as she felt unwell. She has remained secluded most of the week and that is quite troubling, but she seems happy, she is not moping and she is happy to see me when I am here. She also seems happy for me to take part in activities. As far she is concerned she is on holiday doing what she always wanted to sleep, rest, relax, and to participate in excursions when they are available. Not my idea of a holiday, perhaps, but then I am living mine. The only thing I am missing is to be able to share some of my fun with her, and that is not to be. 

Sammee had opted to put on a show, all her own, on Burt Bacharach songs. I chose to watch this with Albina in the cabin just for companionship, although I could easily have watched the concet in the theatre. Unlike the self confident Sammie who sang the Karen Carpenter songs earlier on thr ctuise, she seemed a bit more bervous this tine, as she had never sone such a concert devoted to Bacharach before. Imitially, as soon as he started to sung Albina went to sleep and I was left on my own watching the concert on the TV screen. However this had the advantage that I could see the lyrics displayed for each song while she was singing it. Bacharach songs have a wonderful sensitivity that is all feminine and see love above all else from the feminine point of view, with a vulnerable poignancy like Walk on By or Not Going Home Anymore, or Anyne who Had a Heart, or else they carried a hard edged assessment of  male insincerity and insecurity like Alfie or I'll Never Fall in Love Again . Even the happy romantic songs like Say a Little Prayer or Look of Love honour female deication and loyalty. As Sammie grew more confident her rendition became seasoned in the big American singing style. She delivered her last songs with the full volume and full passion of Cilla Black or Dusty Springfield. Hoever, yo me there is nothing to match |Dionne Warwick's version of "Walk on By" and Sammie version was faultless. I often lose the full impact of a song as the words get blurred and you are left being carried forward by the music alone, but on this occasion the wonderful poetry and the realism of the words were revealed as well. An enriching experience which Albina sadly missed.

Our intrepid quiz team shared the first of the bottles of champagne tonight as we played again. in my case and Albina's we would rather take the bottle home. We got an honourable 13 out of 16, but still no cigar.

    

Mid-Atlantic

 

Borealis Sunday 7th May 2023

 

The sky is grey and overcast and the sea is likewise grey with a moderate swell. With little joy we proceed to our destined home through a foretaste of English dampness and dullness. Yet it is not cold. On the Observation Deck there is a strong sea breeze, seeking to negate the milder warmth of the nid-Atlantic. As the ship gently rolls, so do its passengers. In the corridors, walking along the length of the upstairs buffet, trying to find a seat in the library, chatting and viewing presents to buy in the shops, we would all fail a police request to walk a straight line. You see it most at the poolside where the water splashes backwards and forwards exaggerating the sway of the waves 10 decks below. When it came to lunch Albina was tying bravely to carry her onion soup, splashing about like a mini pool, towards our table, much to the gentle amusement of the staff, until one came forward like a true knight and offered to carry it for her.

 

I managed to attend a morning lecture about the blue riband competition announced year after tear between passenger vessels in crossing the Atlantic. It was interesting enough for me to hear most of it before my narcolepsy took over again, and I was eventually woken by the audience clapping. The one truly interesting fact I picked up from that lecture was the story of the ss Sirius which made the crossing the late 1840s after burning part of the furniture and the wooden structure of the ship, when the coal ran out. Was this what prompted Verne to describe Phileas Fogg's crossing of the Atlantic in the luckless "Henrietta"?

 

I ran into Sammee at the staircase. I congratulated her for arranging with Buckingham Palace to have the Coronation held on May 6th. just so she could help complete enough diversions to engage us all during the long crossing of the Atlantic. She took in the joke and agreed that she had it all sorted "with her friend Charles", but she was particularly proud to have arranged with the BBC to show the 2 hour Coronation Concert at 6pm in the Neptune Theatre. She was keeping her fingers crossed that the link with the BBC would work so far from the nearest land. I remain amazed at her skill in organizing events, large and small, with such flair and imagination over such a long cruise. I told her she could figure as the heroine of my cruise blog if it gets published. "Don't forget to email me with it when it's published," she called out as she rushed away.

 

I managed to sit out one more lecture, this time on the Azores, I slept through some of that too, though , the legend of the lake with two colours sounded beguiling. Apparently two frustrated lovers, a princess and a shepherd boy, one green eyed and the other blue, were forbidden by the king to marry and cried their hearts out in the waters filling the crater. 

 

We had a disappointment when a rotating globe we wanted to buy as a present for a relative, six copies of which had been on display in one of the ship's shopping outlets since February, had all disappeared when Albina finally decided to buy one.

 

The Guest Services staff gave me the link to make telephone calls from our cabin telephone. If only I had asked for that earlier. It meant that I was finally able to call British Airways and to clear away the technical obstruction to reaching our BA staff travel account. It also meant that, nearer the day, I will be able to contact ROL Cruise by phone to check the arrangements for the limousine due to take us home from Southampton Dock next Saturday.

 

We decided to watch the BBC channel with the Coronation Concert together in the cabin, rather than me seeing it on my own in the theatre. I was disappointed at first at the lack of top billing British artists who had agreed to come forward, but Lionel Ritchie, Katy Perry and Take That eventually made up for that, and because of the amateur enthusiasm of so many choirs from around the UK and even the Commonwealth, being invited to take part it felt like a truly inclusive occasion. Once it was dark the drone lighting in the sky and the castle backdrop for a sound and light show kindled the magic that will make this concert so memorable. An extraordinary beautiful and original concept was the stage performance of a couple of stage actors and a couple of ballet dancers playing the part of the lovers simultaneously backed by the live orchestral music of West Side Story was an extraordinarily beautiful and original innovation.

 

Our quiz team were together again scoring 14 out of 16. Runners up yet again but no longer frustrated, as we had achieved our goal of three victories.

 

I had just remembered at the last minute to move our watches once more hour forward again. We are now only two hours different from London time.

Coronation Day

 Borealis Saturday 6th May 2023

We were woken up at 7.30 with a breakfast tray for Albina, even though she had ordered it for 9.30. We were then both asleep. I guessed that the staff were simply keen to watch the coronation ceremony at 11am, which effectively for us was starting at 8am in our "suspended in mid-Atlantic" time zone. I switched on the TV and soon we were both immersed in the pageantry and futile beauty of it all. Irrelevant to our daily lives perhaps, yet a necessary part of what gives the UK that sense of stability. 

What in this modern era is the value of the monarchy? Perhaps three things. It makes the UK noticed world wide as a soap opera immersed in history, which is a key element of its soft power, even when its real power is so diminished. Along with the English language, Brtish fashion, British music and the BBC this makes Britain a key cultural yardstick for the world, similar to the status of Greece in the Roman World, or Paris in the Fin de Siecle. Secondly, it can safely reflect and even relish the diversification of religions and cultures in the UK without undermining the white population's occasionally fragile sense of security. The swaying gospel singers, dressed in white, certainly made a positive impact, as did the young chorister on behalf of the "children of the Kingdom of God". Thirdly, it protects us from the glorification of our politicians, where even a self-important bumptious leader like Thatcher, or Blair, or Johnson, know they only play second fiddle in the hierarchy. Apart from that the coronation gives our country the chance to look at itself in the mirror as a nation, and despite our problems and divisions, we feel self confident enough not to spit at our own image. The organization of the event was faultless in that understated British way. Yet it must be said that the king looked tired and anxious before his coronation. He was obviously pleased at its progress, judging by his smile. As for Camilla, despite this being her triumph she looked terrified, especially with the crown. At least Charles and Camilla remembered not to raise theit heads to watch the flypast. The massive thousands who came to share in the coronation moment were certainly recorded with a proper British spectacle and a proper British downpour. The coronation does start a new era, whether you call it Carolean or not, it merely illustrates that a new era is already here, where Charles is protector of many faiths, where girls and boys sing in the choir together, where those with different pigmentation of skin are now among the privileged of this land.The contradictions of a hereditary monarchy in a parliamentary democracy are not resolved by this coronation, but they are recognized and confirmed. For now. 

The coronation has affected today's programme of entertainment on the vessel with a commemorative party at the poolside from 12 noon and a Coronation Day Street Fayre from 2pm. Albina was not feeling well, but insisted that I go. To maintain British colours I put on the blue shorts I have been wearing for the last few days, with the white shirt I put on for the White Party and a red bow tie, topped with my red fez from the Egyptian night. Wierd but aptly festive. 

The Poolside had been transformed into a medieval fair with masses of stalls promoting different departments of the vessel presenting different challenges. To take them up you needed to buy tokens with real money. I bought £20 worth with my key card and tried them out at various stalls. I tried to guess the weight of one teddy, find out how many teddies were hidden in a box on another stall, put photographic images on pillows and mugs, bid for services in the spa, play a lottery with the hope of winning another cruise, or bid to buy a signed map of the world showing the route of our cruise. Or I could play human fruit machines, with 3 staff members behind a curtain, presenting a row of fruit at the roll of a drum. There were stalls with sailors' knots, with images of animals made of bath towels (from the housekeeping staff), with darts thrown at balloons, with plastic quoits to be thrown over wine bottles, with a wooden target for putting a golf ball. One brave staff member had volunteered to be a victim of a sponsored wax job, and his legs were certainly hairy. Also there were stalls selling clothes donated by other passengers, or simply left lying about in the ship and unclaimed. There was also a stall selling arty products from the pottery and drawing classes. Finally, you could pose alongside a life size cardboard model of King Charles in naval uniform. It was an impressive array of activities both silly and informative, but the key thing is that some 800 or so people participated in a true fun evening commemorating the big event of the day and with the proceeds going to the charity Heart 2 Heart. .  

It was not however the only world event of that day. The Labour Party consolidated its victory by declaring its readiness to rule, and Iga Swiatek was defeated again by Belorussian player Aryna Sabalenka. At this rate Sabalenka could overtake Swiatek for points and become the new no. 1. Now that would be depressing.

When I returned to the cabin I brought down some sandwiches to Albina from the high tea buffet. Albina seemed to be feeling a little better, as she looked at reruns of the coronation, commenting in particular on the characters she did not like, Camilla, Andrew and Harry. She exulted in the relegation of the last two to the third row in the Abbey, and looked critically at every aspect of Camilla's progress. Albina was a fan of Diana, and she belongs to the unforgiving. 

Despite the festivities it was a dull overcast day. The glass roof of the poolside was restored in anticipation of rain that evening, although Captain Stoica remained optimistic that the weather would be better when we reach Ponta Delgada in the Azores on Tuesday.   

I went to the British Rock Royalty concert put on by the Borealis Theatre Company at the Neptune Theatre. We were handed Union Jacks on our way in and many were still wearing their red, white and blue coronation Street Fayre costumes. While we waited for the show, Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance was played on the loudspeker. The audience were in a patriotic frenzy cheering and waving their flags. When the show actually began with popular songs of the 60s the atmosphere calmed down while the Theatre Company put on their usual lively show with their unforgettable choreography, costumes and lighting. At the end of the show Sammee urged everyone to stand up to the National Anthem, just as we used do incinemas in the 1950s. Sammee also announced that the proceeds from the Coronation Day Street Fayre totalled £5266.30, which if added to the £950 collected so far on this cruise for Heart 2 Heart, would cover the cost of 4 new defibrillators. 

None of my colleagues turned up at 10 for the General Knowledge Quiz, so I returned to our cabin.   

Packing begins

 Borealis Friday 5th May 2023

When I got up this morning I continued saving the remaining photos that Tony had given me. By 9am I had finished, and I pocketed the USB link to return it to Tony. I went for a pre-breakfast one mile walk around the ship (3 and a half laps around the ship on Deck 3). Others were doing the same, but there were no more groups of whale watchers perched with their binoculars on the bow of the vessel. I also passed the sad gentleman with Alzheimer's three times, as he stood there aimlessly staring out from the vessel's stern. 

After breakfast I attended a lecture on the geology of the Caribbean, under the mistaken impression that it was going to be one of two lectures on pirates in the Caribbean. Instead it described how the West Indies emerged from volcanic activity and left an archipelago of islands with beaches on one side and coves and hidden caverns on the other side which pirates were able to utilize. I then remembered to arrange for a wifi link for my phone which Albina uses for her Whats App telephone calls, in order to match the link I received yesterday for my laptop.  

As we were so concerned about the packing in time for our departure in 8 days' time, I pulled four of our six cases from under our bed for Albina to plan the packing. I should add that packing is one of her major contributions to our 50 year marriage. I left the room and she set to work. I lay in the sun by the pool, and afterwards attended a real lecture about the pirates in the Caribbean, all about Blackbeard and Morgan and Calico Joe, hanged with his two mistresses, after they had given birth to his children. When I got back to the cabin, she was in the last throes of packing the third case. She put away everything that she thought we would not need for the next week, which unfortunately included some of my more colourful shirts. The only trouble is that all three cases now weigh about 20kg apiece and are too big to squeeze under the bed. We will have to leave them stacked up in the corners of the roomfor the rest of the voyage. The fourth case went back under the bed again to await being packed another day. It was a really impressive achievement and it left Albina physically exhausted..  

After dinner, which Albina had in her cabin, I attended a show by a brash lady comedian called Jo Little, who mixes working class humour from her native Pontefract with coarse but passionate renditions of songs by Edith Piaf, Lulu and Dusty Springfield. We had a very poor showing at the General Knowledge Quiz ending with only 8 correct out of 15, although some of the questions about advertising slogans were indecipherable, due to the quizmaster's bizarre pronunciation. After that I promised to give moral support to Sharon in her entry for karaoke night in The Observatory. She had a brave bash at singing Super Trouper. After that it was time to retire as we were losing yet another hour tonight.

Latest news from elections in England and Wales: the Tories had lost more than 1000 Council seats. I wonder how long Johnson and Truss will continue to evade responsibility for this mess?

Roaring Twenties

 Borealis  Thursday 04.05.2023

The journey back continues and the anxieties return. I know that sufficiently from my dreams. Questions tormented me. Like what happens to our luggage at Southampton when it will no longer be Fred Olsen's responsibility? When we have to think for ourselves again and not leave it all to the ship's staff to organize. I must admit I don't know how to contact Rol Cruise through whom we booked the holiday, because we organized the port to door chauffer with them. They have a phone line, but not on Whats App and they indicate no email, so I have no means of contacting them. That is my next anxious worry. 

Just after lunch I listened to a lecture on the Atlantic Crossing, about how the conditions of passengers on ships changed over the centuries. It is interesting to know how current luxuries such as individual bathrooms with each cabin developed only after the First World War, or that third class passengers on the big liners had no access to the outside decks.

As my wifi link, which I purchased at the beginning of the cruise, had expired after 70 days, I purchased a new one with Guest Services for £63 to last me another 10 days. For the last two days of the cruise I will again be without a link, which may be awkward. 

In the meantime, I had arranged with Tony to release some photos to me covering the cruise from Hawaii to St Kitts. In the end Tony gave me a USB link to transfer a total of 168 photos covering everything from Lisbon to St Kitts. For this I will be eternally grateful. I have started to save each photo individually.

The evening was another Formal Night on the ship with special emphasis on the Roaring Twenties.  I had no interest in this,but I have to say that there was a large number of imaginatively dressed ladies scampering around the decks with their partners in dinner suits. There was also A Musical Murder Mystery put on in the Neptune Theatre, where the main entertainment staff had put on a show acting as Holmes and Watson pretending to have embarked on a cruise ship to catch a murderer. The clues were hidden in more than 20 songs that are played on a piano. I broke off from saving Tony's photos to have a look at the tail end of the Murder Mystery and came in at the moment that each musical number was indentified with the help of the audience. I came away still totally mystified. As I had missed dinner checking photos with Tony, I went upstairs to get some food for Albina and myself from the buffet restaurant in the Supper Club after 11pm.

In the meantime the local elections are under way in the UK. Good early results for Labour and Lib Dems are expected. 

Time for another change in the time as well as in Britain. Watches move forward tonight.

St Kitts and Nevis

Borealis Wednesday 03.05.2023 

We sailed into St Kitts at 8 in the morning. It was the usual approach through mysterious unknown islands, whose identity is a mystery while we still view them half-awake from the balcony. St Kitts seemed at first sight much like Tortola, with verdant green hills and a scattering of largely white houses along the lower flanks of the hillside, and a final concentration of buildings at what purports to be the capital of this island nation. It boasts a total of 57,000 inhabitants, the majority of black or African origin, of which 45,000 live on the main island of St Kitts an 12,000 on neighbouring Nevis, which is barely 15 miles away. In fact, we could clearly see Nevis and its single mountain from the ship. The capital and main port of St Kitts and Nevis is Basseterre, and that is where we are docked. The main currency is Eastern Caribbean Dollars, which is the same as St Lucia, where I spent our last holiday back in 2019. However, as we have been warned, everything is practically speaking payable and even costed in US dollars.

 

This was once the island of sugar. Sugar was brought here as a crop by the British after first arrival in 1623 and became the main product of the island. However, that trade brought in that sinister by product which was the importation and exploitation of slaves from Africa to work the plantations. Despite the abolition of slavery in 1833 and the granting of independence in 1967, sugar remained the main export until 2005. Over the years the maintenance of the sugar industry became too high to sustain as the cost grew, so the government decided it was time to close the industry and replace it with tourism which was becoming increasingly profitable. But it was still sugar that shaped the appearance of the country as it appears today, with attractive colonial houses in Basseterre and Sandy Point, great swathes of unused grassland where the sugar was once grown, a large black African or Afro-European population forming 92% of the country's residents., and a railway line once used to consolidate and convey the sugar export crop to the port, which has now been converted to a successful tourist attraction. The descendants of the dreadful slave trade have now inherited the land and we white intruders are but their guests, not their masters. It is a reflection too on another colonial atrocity in 1626 when the early British and French settlers, fearing a war, invited the original Carib population to a joint celebration of their cooperation hitherto at which they massacred as much of the indigenous population as they could and deported the remaining survivors to Dominica. That is why the black population of Kittitians now have nobody to share the country with.

 

Our morning tour was a journey around the island on what was previously the sugar train. Now the train has been transformed into a tourist attraction with six two storey carriages. The top floor is open but rather uncomfortable with seats around the side facing inwards. The lower level is similar to a typical first-class saloon with large windows. When a coach collected us in the morning and drove us to Needsmust Station (a curious name?), everyone scrambled to climb up the steep steps to the top open floor. Once I had seen how tightly everyone was sitting upstairs, I suggested to Albina we stay below. In fact we were the only people to do so and basically had the run of the carriage to ourselves along with the staff serving pina colada, with or without rum, sugar cookies and two dancers in local costumes, who danced for us before proceeding upstairs.

 

The landscape layout is attractive with large wooded green hills, one of which could perhaps be promoted to being a mountain. It is in fact listed as a volcano called Mount Liamigua. Nearly all these Leeward Islands were created by volcanic activity and every now and again a sleeping giant in these sleepy islands will erupt, as recently happened in Monserrat, just to keep everyone on their toes. The hills are surrounded by equally green lowlands, more extensive than those of Tortola, which in turn are surrounded by the blue waters of the Atlantic and the Caribbean on opposite side of the island, and the occasional beaches on the Caribbean side. We could watch this constant landscape from our train as we spent an hour and a half circumnavigating the island. A lady somewhere up top  in one of the carriages gave a lively commentary on the intercom system highlighting some of the more interesting features on our route. These included the picturesque curve around Frigate Bay but with barely visible dark sand beaches facing cold and dangerous Atlantic rollers hitting the shore. These did include nesting sites for turtles, though we would have been too far away to see them. On the other side of the track we also had a bat cave in the escarpment of the nearest hill. We also passed several ruins of dark stone sugar mills, sometimes with accompanying chimneys, standing as grim reminders of the old 18th century sugar plantations. Seeing these monuments, I think that Kittitians eventually abandoned sugar manufacture with relief, not only because it was increasingly uneconomical, but also because of its connotation with a cruel and humiliating past. An interesting feature of the journey were four stark and unadorned bridges at various valley crossings around the island, steep and narrow, which were still feats of nineteenth century functional engineering. The older buildings that still remained were numerous churches, Methodist and Roman Catholic, all built of volcanic black stone, looking like something out of a Welsh mining village. Te Roman Catholic churches seemed to predominate in the former French zones on the outskirts of the island. The British colony was in the middle of the island. Eventually the British took over all of the island. 

Near the end of the train journey we passed a rare example of a modern international investment, namely the St Kitts Eco Park. Our journey was also cheered by the large numbers of butterflies, yellow and blue and white. They seem to fly happily without any immediately vidible predators. Attention was drawn by our train narrator to the individually cultivated plots of land with apple trees or to groves and small fields with pineapple, sweet potato, yams, banana or corn on the cob, often near village halls and schools. I was pleased to hear, talking of schools, that all education including higher education, were subsidized by the government. That included one hot meal a day. However, I was concerned that the government, which owns 80% of the land, has basically left it fallow after sugar and tobacco production was dropped nearly twenty years ago. We had passed through several miles of fields and meadows consisting of nothing but long green grass. On the positive side I could see from the train that roads appeared to be of good quality. However, I was shocked by the large number of wrecked cars and construction equipment left abandoned along the side of the tracks, often growing their own vegetation inside the wrecks. Was this some kind of counterculture as a monument to the past, or just carelessness? At least the train journey had been comfortable for us inside the railway carriage. Upstairs every sat tightly squeezed, facing inward and having to hold on to their hats in the brisk wind. I happily settled for what we had got, even though it was not our first choice.

 When the train journey ended in a loop with a siding, we found more of our party from the ship waiting to swap places with us. We returned to the same coach numbers we had before the train journeys, whereas they swarmed on to the upper decks of the train. We them continued by road through the town of Sandy Row and various villages on the route. The houses were neat and painted white and included large numbers of state owned estates of small two storeye houses. At least they were not being herded into large anonymous residential blocks, but then there was plenty of land to spare. Highlights on this route included a tall hill topped with the formidable Brimstone Hill Fortress, which had been dubbed the Gibraltar of the West Indies, after it had been besieged in numerous wars by the French, and in its later stages proved impregnable. More pogniant was the site of the masacre of the Carib people by the British at Bloody Point. A recoded narration of the event was given over the loudspeaker. It was obviously a British version of the event which described how they prevented a massacre of British settlers by the natives. However it ended with a massacre of all on one fateful day so that the local river ran red with  easily run theirblood, while the rest of the survivors were deported. Again, not something I was taught at school. The bus carried us eventually to the harbour entrance.

We stopped to do a bit of shopping and met up with Rafal and Iza, one of the Polish couples, at the harbour entrance. We chatted about their plan to rebook for an 101 day Olsen tour next year, mainly taking place in the Douthern hemisphere. They found they could easily run their commercial roofing business while enjoying a world cruise. They returned to the ship but I wanted to visit the National Museum. In all my 70 days of cruising so far, I had not had the time or opportunity to visit a single museum. It was just off the harbour shopping stores, with the front hidden behind scaffolding.  As the stairs were rather steep Albina opted not to come. I went in alone. I found three rooms, the last seperated by a balcony. The first concerned a social and cultural history of the country, particularly of course the history of local reggae musicians, but also including histories of their Christmas festivals during the colonial days, and later their own annual carnivals. The second room designated for the political history was only partly full, as many exhibits were being renovated and supplied with new descriptions. There were pictures of nineteenth century factories and goverrnors and almost nothing of post-independence St Kitts and Nevis. One exhibition case showed handcuffs and leg irons, as well as whips, used to restrain slaves in colonial times. Across the balcony were exhibits showing the tragic story of the sinking of the local ferry, the Christena, with massive loss of life just 50 years ago. It was the local ferry between St Kitts and its sister island Nevis and it was probably the country's most traumatic event in the Twentieth Century. There was a large model of the vessel and a fund collecting for a proper commemoration for the event. There was a white memorial stone standing outside the museum. 

The Museum showed the difficulties which this country faces. St Kitts has invested in tourism as the main export, but it does not seem to have any fallback in view of increasing competition from neighbouring tropical islands and even the more temperate islands in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. It occurs to me that long term they would near more international investment similar to the Eco Park to create an additional attraction for tourists. However each such investment could hamper the development of the country's new indigenous culture, so reliant until now on the provincial monuments of its colonialist past and deprived of a pre-colonialist indigenous tradition. The true culture of its people lies in its music, its paintings, its costumes. Yet it also needs an alternative source of income, from agriculture  or from industrial development to sustain itself in order to develop that culture.

 I rejoined Albina downstairs as she was standing by the Christena Memorial. Just beyond the museum I saw a square with a middle sized green clock tower with a drinking fountain called the Berkeley Memorial. It is another tourist attaction that commemorated a local Nineteenth century plantation owner. Beyond it was a shopping street with colonial architecture but whch we had no time to visit.

We returned to the vessel.That evening we had a Caribbean Grand Buffet Party based on the concept that every participant would be wearing white. I actually had a new white cotton shirt and trousers which we bought in Tortola yesterday. so I put it on. Albina sat it out as usual. I danced a little, took some photos, and left the party, bringing a chicken leg with a pineapple and mango salad down to Albina in the cabin. 

I went up for the General Knowledge Quiz. The full team was there. This time we got 13 out of 15 answers right. We came joint third so we had to answer a deciding question. The three winning tema were asked what was the one year whe Morocco participated in the Eurovision contest. By saying 1964 we came nearest to the right answer of 1960 and for the third time this cruise we won our bottle of champagne. Now we have three bottles to share between three households. The details can be sorted out later.

    

Tortola

 Borealis Tuesday 02.05.2023

At 8am we are up as our ship moves slowly amidst anonymous green islets surrounded by a placid sea, almost a lagoon. The sky is blue with occasional puffs of cloud and it is warm, pleasantly warm. Perhaps around 27 degrees. This is what it must have looked like to the earliest buccaneers and settlers as they searched around for harbours and tried to assess which islands were habitable and which could sustain a larger community with potential for crops or farm animals. At least that was the view and the thoughts that came into my mind from our balcony on the port side.

When Albina and I reached breakfast at the buffet restaurant on Deck 8 on the starboard side, the picture changed immediately. I could now see that we had just reached our pier at the front end of our ship and we had a pretty view of a classical English XVII century settlement of Roadtown, capital of Tortola in the British Virgin Islands. Yet even as we finished our breakfast the picture changed yet again as a monster ship with some 13 decks appeared suddenly on our starboard side. I could see the reflections of our funnels in their cabin windows two levels below their main deck. The vessel was so long that fromwhere I sat . I could not see either the prow or the rear of the vessel to establish its name and nationality. But from the brash water slides high up over their pool area I could guess it was American. I cannot imagine a worse situation. With two vessels arriving at this tiny destination at the same time, we are probably doubling the population on the island, Everywhere we could face large crowds, screaming American children and higher prices. Not a good forecast. 

As soon as the vessel had obtained immigration clearance, I slipped ashore for a half an hour to check out the wifi connection on land. However, I was still not able to make a telephone connection to British Airways by phone to sort out access to the staff travel department. While on land I found the name for our floating neighbour was Disney Fantasy. Fantasy to some, nightmare to others. Its pasengers are all over the port. So far the children seem quiet and bemused, the young parents polite and not pushy, but when I returned to the pier to re-enter our ship I could compare our passengers and theirs walking alongside each other from their separate gangplanks. Theirs have plenty of children and no people with walking sticks or wheelchairs, but their parents have on balance a far wider girth than ours, even though we have a large proportion of the overweight as well. The Americans have a strange mixture of slim healthy looking parents and a majority who waddle along with beefy kids in tow, already panting with the effort on the arrival pier. 

I have just checked up on the American cruise vessel. It is called Disney Fantasy, a new vessel based in Fort Lauderdale, and it ran its maiden voyage at the beginning of March this year. It has a weight of 130,000 tons, which is twice the weight of Borealis, It has 14 decks to our 9, a length of 348 metres to our vessel's 237 metres, and a beam width of 40 metres to our standard 32 metres. I say "standard" because that is the maximum width a vessel can have to pass through the Panama Canal locks. So this giant, like its Disney sister ship, is destined to sail only round the Atlantic and Caribbean, and could only sail on to the Pacific, and thus visit San Francisco or Alaska, if it sails round the Cape of Good Hope or Cape Horn. Its investment in various areas on the ship just for children means it is only suited for local tours of around a week or a fortnight. You cannot take kids on a five week holiday or more. That gives me some satisfaction and I have already given these details to interested passengers and staff.

The shops at the harbour were all uniformly smart and excessively expensive, although Albina did buy me a white shirt and white pair of trousers for 70 dollars. Incidentaly, US dollars are the currency for the British Virgin Isles (BVT), as well as for the neighbouring U.S. Virgin Isles. We got back for a very quick lunch and then headed for our booked tour of Tortola and the surrounding islands. We boarded a boat at the harbour for around 40 people, and set off at a steady pace. We had a raconteur guide called David, who made a point of saying that this was an unsupervized tour without any of his bosses aboard, perhaps to give us a feeling we were participating in some kind of illicit adventure. There was an undercurrent of the revolutionary and buccaneer about him. The boat played soft reggae music with constant references to "be happy" and "let's stay together, it will be all right". Perhaps that was part of the dynamic of  black guides showing round white guests, in particular white British guests, on their home turf. They can express their sassiness and their sense of independence laced with some familiarity and even affection. I should add here that ethnically the BVT are 78% of black or African origin, and everybody we came in contact here, guides, drivers, shopkeepers, policemen, are black. Curiously, our guide had a healthy disrespect for the politicians in his country who wanted independence from the UK. He commented on  how the British Commonwealth link was crucial in obtaining aid for the Virgin Islands after the Irma hurricane hit the BVT in 2017, imposing life changing destruction. 

It was a relaxing atmosphere, where a number of guests opened up to each other despite still being stangers. The lady next to Albina, who was accompanied by her quiet husband, disclosed how her husband's condition had deteriorated in the last 2 years due to memory loss and advanced Alzheimers. He barely knew where he was. Like us, they had chosen this cruise two years before. During the covid crisis his Alzheimers had made big strides. He had turned increasingly difficult and even violent and she had had to warn him she would commit him permanently to a separate home if he tried to hit her again. As time wore on, and he still proved to be physically capable, she decided to take the risk of not cancelling the cruise nd to go ahread with it with him in tow. So she had spent 70 days so far of this cruise, helping him dress and going about the daily activities, including the more relaxing excursions, and put up with his occasional unexpected mood swings. I remember how I once passed him at the promenade deck rail during the crossing of the Panama Canal. We had chatted amiably about his previous experience as a sailor passing through the canal and he talked about how beautiful the surrounding jungle was. However, I soon realised that he was not taking in whatever I had been saying and was repeating the same words over and over again. So many of our fellow passengers carry burdens and crosses of which we largely remain unaware. Despite the holiday atmosphere there is an undercurrent of pain, physical but particularly mental, which adds such poignancy to our visists and to the enthusiasm and cheeriness of our staff and our fellow passengers. 

Our craft rode and bumped over the waves in the direction of a ring of islands around Tortola, beginning with Salt Island. David stoped the engine and gave us almost an affectionate account of how Queen Victoria honoured the island after its inhabitants, who had been harvesting salt, had helped rescue the survivors of the wreck of ss Rowan, which had been a particularly favoured vessel for the old Queen. She let Salt Island off payng taxes to the Crown except for one annual tribute of 1 sack of salt, which was retained for the Queen's own use. Drifting in the blue crystal clear waters of the Sir Francis Drake Channel, David served out glasses of rum to us all and regaled us with stories about how Francis Drake robbed other pirates like himself,  or how Christopher Columbus, who arrived at the shores in his second voyage in 1493 was desptached by the King and Queen of Spain because he was an alcoholic that they were trying to get rid of,  or how an adjoining island got the name Fat Virgin, or Virgin Gorda, because its shape reminded a drunken Columbus of  a outsize virgin lying down on her side, or how another island was named by Columbus as Dead Man's Chest because of its shape, and how that same island became the source of a famous pirate drinking song, after the pirate Blackbeard left fifteen mutinous sailors to starve on that island. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum to all that. By then he had restarted the motor and we proceeded towards another island called Norman, named after another pirate called Norman had left his buried treasure there, and how stories of that treasure were the inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island". Norman Island was actually full of secret coves and caves, which made David's story all the more believable. As we drew near we found a boat similar to ours with American tourists in what I could only call a mass snorkel, as they were nearly all in the water with the same identical snorkelling masks, probably supplied by their Disney ship. 

As most of us had been drinking rum quite liberally we could probably believe any stories that David regaled us with. He described how we can get hangovers from drinking the normal rum we buy in supermarkets, which is based on molasses, and that the pure white rum, made from cane sugar, would not give us any hangover, no matter how much we had drunk. That ties in with my experience with neat vodka not giving you a hangover. David then suggested how we could even fool Fred Olsen and smuggle rum aboard the vessel disguised in water bottles. Then he started the boat once more and suggested we all risk becoming illegal immigrants as he streered us in the direction of St John Island, which was actually part of the U.S. Virgin Islands. I could have told him that we all had Amercian visas, without which we could not have taken part in this cruise, but why spoil his fun.

Finally we landed on the other side of Tortola at a small shopping area with a lot of sailing boats bobbing up and down in the harbour. One speed boat was typically named "Don't Worry", a reflection of much of the mood in this seemingly happy place. We waited here for our buses to drive us over the Ridge Road around Mount Sage to rejoin the ship at Road Town. We were divided between three open sided minibuses, and Albina and I found ourselves in the first one. Our new driver took us along the Atlantic coast of Tortola and pointed out where the hurricane had destroyed much of the beach area and fishing grounds. We drove past a seashell museum and a restaurant with a colony of pelicans living in the surf. After a couple of miles our driver literally plunged into an uphill lane, adding on the speed, and started climbing up the slopes of Mount Sage, the high point of Tortola. Each time he reached a sharp corner he sounded his horn repeatedly and then completed the turn at speed. The mountain is still rich with forests, and occasional residences perched perilously on the mountain side. The road was visibly deteriorating with great cracks in the concrete here and there. However, this did not intimidate the driver one bit, as he swerved into one curve after another, up and up the mountain. We clung on to the seats still trying to take the odd picture of fabulous sea views and hoping that we would not lose our place and fall out of the vehicle. 

                                

Finally we reached a high point on the shoulder of the mountain with a little pub and restaurant called Stout's Lookout, where the driver at last stopped. Here we could get out of the vehicle, take pictures of the blue Atlantic on both side of the mountain's shoulder, and enjoy a beer and a snack. Then we resumed our journey across the mountain. We passed a convoy of some 10 jeeps going the opposite way with what we assumed were Amercian tourists. Finally, he passed another ridge and he stopped for us to take a picture of the more turquise coloured Caribbean Sea on the other side of the island, with Road Town visible with the two cruise ships down in the quay. As we descended from the mountain, breaks screeching, in another steep drive along a zig zaggy route, we passed more and more houses, mostly a sign of prosperity. This was marred by the fact that every third or fourth house was damaged and empty, which I put down to the effects of the unrepaired hurricane damage from six years ago. By the time we reached Road Town the ratio of prosperous housing decidedly improved, presumably from some UK based post-hurricane community investment. Certainly the tourist areas clustered around the pier appeared neat and spotless.

By 5pm we were back on the quay. We walked through the harbour entrance building with its souvenir shops and sad huddled passengers standing against the side of the corridor and linked to their loved ones. We rejoined the ship and waited for dinner, as I started my blog entry for today.  The vessel sailed at 6pm. 

While chatting with other passengers I heard that one who was on a later bus to our tour refused to continue risking his life with that driver after they had reached Stout's Lookout. Consequently the bus left without him. The ship had to book a taxi to collect him from there. Wonder who paid for that?  

Our quiz did not go too well that night (only 6 right out of 15) as we swapped stories about our various excursion experiences. I noticed that they had that ridiculous silent disco game again in the Observatory, where people dance to different styles of music that they hear on their earphones. I gave that a miss and got ready for bed.

Across the Caribbean

 

Borealis Monday 1st May 2023

Somehow, sometime in the night the air conditioning must have been restored. No announcement was made, but suddenly it began to cool down sufficiently for us to automatically drag a sheet over ourselves. When I woke at 5am I was both cold and clammy and struggled to take off my pyjama top which was wet through, and to replace it with a light t-shirt. The door to the cabin was closed now, presumably by Albina. When I stepped outside I was enveloped by a gentle warmth.

I went back to bed and 9am was ready for a good hearty breakfast. Albina stayed back and I brought her some watermelon slices. We were sailing across a smooth sea, and the only thing plaguing us now were the flies that had come onto the vessel in Santa Marta, another victim of the rainstorm. Our daily broadsheet, Daily News, was very useful for swatting flies. I had noticed streaks of orange vegetation sweeping past the vessel at regular intervals which seemed a bit of a mystery. Otherwise no sign of life on the sea, not even seabirds. Again we are alone at sea, without a ship in sight, just as we were in the Indian Ocean and the Pacific. It is making how large the seas are in this world. It must have been very unnerving commanding the Spanish galleons across these seas knowinh that English and French pirates were ready to leap upon them across any of the Windward Islands facing them. 

At 11am I went to a lecture on the royal regalia in preparation for the Coronation. Very well prepared lecture with a slide show of coronations from Edward the Confessor to Elizabeth II to the soaring music of Handel's Zadok the priest. As an apology for the problems with the air conditioning the captain offered all of us a rum based cocktail at the poolside bar. In the early afternoon we had a session of meeting the captain, Victor Stoica, a Romanian, along with the new hotel manager. Both of them answered questions about the boat and about themselves. For instance, they discussed their cooperation with pilots at the various ports and more personal questions such as what they did in their cabins in their free time (rephrased by Sammee as, what were their hobbies?). I asked about the streaks of orange vegetation. Captain Stoica assured that this was not pollution by the vessel, but clumps of vegetation which found its way to the sea following yesterday's storm, which are simply being rechurned by the vessel. Another asked about predictions for weather in the Atlantic, to which Captain Stoica sounded quite optimistic. Then a curious question from a frail old gentleman who could hardly stand up. "As this is no longer an American ship, but a British ship, why are the restaurant staff still greeting us with American phrases, such a how are you." Of course the vessel was never American, but Dutch, when it part of the Holland-America Line. However, leaving that aside, this question raised an angry outcry from other listeners, and Sammee hastily reinterpreted the question as "Why do so many of the staff, especially the East Asian ones, have American accents." She explained how many of the catering staff, in particular, would have been educated and trained in schools using American English, and that what was important was that the staff be polite and friendly. to which everyone applauded. I felt sorry for the old gentleman, as I know where he is coming from. When I first came I was embarassed, even offended, by the sheer obsequiousness of many of the satt in both restaurants. Most English tourists find that embarassing, but perhaps it is required for American passengers. With time most of the staff get to know us, and we get to know them, often by name, and they can allow themselves a little cheekiness to make their job more fun. No problem with that.

I had arranged with Tony to meet at 7pm to follow up on his offer to let me make use of his professional photos from the tour for my book. We met in the Library by the map rack. Tony laid out our his folder for literary thousands of brilliant professional pictures of the cruise so far. Ever the professional, his pictures showed the master photogapher at work as each photo was a composition with an emotional touch. The emotions vary of course, as they include humour, pathos, simple joy, and occasionlly something more sombre, especially with pictures that show poverty and pollution. Yet, despite his professionalism, he has generously offered to let me use as many photos as I can choose to illustrate my blog, and any publication that could arise from it. He promised it earlier in the cruise and now he has been as good as his word. We got down to the selection. After two hours we had only gone through his pictures from Lisbon to Tokyo. I took a raincheck for those covering Honolulu to St Kitts and Nevis. We will probably look at them again on Thursday. But I am eternally grateful to Tony for his generosity.

I attended a concert in the Neptune Theatre by the Borealis String Trio. I had watched them make their often lonely performances in the Ocean Bar and elesewhere, and I am glad that they have been given a proper venue to show off their talent. It was enchanting to listen to their version of "Out of Africa", a beautiful peace of music which reminds me of the Kenyan savannah and the Great Rift Valley, with giraffes gliding across the horizon, and millions of wildebeest and zebras trekking  for miles from the Serengeti to the Masai Mara. They also played an Elgar piece followed by a chardash, half decadent, half violent. I enjoyed the performance and enjoyed they were able to appear. 

We had an anarchic quiz night. It was advertised in The Daily Times as a Reverse General Quiz. What did it mean? Annie, one of the staff, explained the rules. She will be giving an answer first and then we had to write down what the question should be to which this was an answer. Example: Answer, London. The question was What is the capital of the United Kingdom. We had to think outside the box, with inverse logic, but finding the simplest, not the most completed answer. So we muddled thtough. Some questions were easily. Some stumped us. What is Nuuk, for instance? The capital of Greenland, apparently. When we got through to the end she asked us what our groups had scored. The lowest team gotonly 8 answers right. So Annie declared them the winners. As we heard this in stunned silence, she said, "Well, I told you, this is a quiz in reverse." We left the room, stratching our heads. 

I went for a quick dance in the Observatory on Deck 9, and then I slipped over for a late supper of a couple of fajitas. After all, I had missed dinner slouching over Tony's photo. I also brought down a couple of chicken drumsticks and a coffee for Albina. In bed by 2am.