Posts Tagged ‘Cruise’

Click here for the same but with photos

Everybody has a bucket list and Podge & Tubbs are no different. Their bucket list mainly centres around places to visit and nearly all by cruise ships. One such item on the list was to visit Florence and Pisa and they surely would have done so had Tubbs not gone and gotten herself poorly the day before they arrived at the port of Livorno: The suspicion is that this was down to excess lager, wine and Italian ice-cream while in Rome so, much to the dismay of Podge, who had to write off £100+ in lost excursion fees but, because His Podgeness loved Tubbs The Duchess he took it on the chin and stayed in the cabin to look after her. And so, Florence and Pisa had to remain on the list, un-ticked.

Another entry on the list was to do two cruises back to back: they harboured this ‘evil’ desire to stay on the ship and watch all their fellow passengers, with sad faces 😦 , disembark. 🙂

Can you imagine then their faces when thumbing through the P&O cruise brochure, a favoured pastime of theirs, when they saw a cruise sailing from Southampton (on Easter Sunday) to Genoa calling at Livorno immediately followed by another cruise again calling at Livorno (two chances go seeing the sights) and finishing in Venice. “Cripes” exclaimed Podge and Tubbs in unison, “this was made especially for us”. And so, as they were already on a cruise ship, they went to the future cruise sales desk and booked themselves a place and, as they were already on board a P&O boat, they got extra spending money included; Yay.

After many months of waiting, Easter finally arrived when they would board the Oceana and set sail for better weather, lovely ports and of course the opportunity (twice) to visit both Florence and Pisa. Unfortunately, their departure coincided with the arrival of Storm Kate, or is it Katie? Who knows, who cares? The fact was, Kate was on her way and she was in one seriously bad mood.  The forecast was for Kate to arrive on Easter Monday and cut across the south of the UK and away to the east. Well, if that was the case, and if Sunday night was anything to go by, Kate wasn’t so bad after all but, when wasn’t realised was that Kate had a nasty sting in her tale that would follow through the following night. As Monday came and went, yes, the sea was less than smooth, in fact it was downright rough and when the Captain said that the trip along the English Channel would be ‘interesting’ everybody knew they were in for a rough ride and , rough it was. In fact, the restaurants on board were less busy than normal and, the obligatory ‘bag’ holders (for those less able to deal with rough seas) were strategically placed around the ship. This pleased His Podgeness greatly as [to date] he had never felt untoward effects of sea-sickness. and so, Podge & Tubbs, having enjoyed a relaxing 1st day and a feast in The Plaza followed by much wine and Prosecco, etc. retired for the night. And then, the tale of Kate lashed out. The ship went up, the ship went down, the ship went up and leant left, the ship went down and leant right, the ship went up and leant right, the ship went down and leant left. Basically, this ship went every which way but loose.

Loose was the right word, sun chairs and tables were moving about, all banging about on the balconies, the screen between balconies were banging and clattering and generally everything was either moving or banging about. Every now and then, every 7th wave according to His Podgeness, the ship would crash down on an almighty wave make an almighty cracking sound. Tubbs, often referred to as The Duchess awoke on numerous occasions complaining how it was disturbing her sleep (this worried Podge greatly). She even declared the whole thing as ridiculous as if it was somebodies fault (this worried Podge even more as it was surely his fault by default).

And so came the dawn followed by The Captain making his 9 0’clock address to all who would, or could, listen. The was when he announced that the naughty Kate had been through wreaking havoc upon the ship to the point than many cabins had become waterlogged as the seas had come over onto the balconies and seeped through the doors, such was the ferocity of the storm. His Podgeness mused for a moment and thought well, if you’re standing on the balcony on deck 10, as he was at this time, and spray is higher than that then yes, I suppose it was, and still remained, a bit choppity but he was more worried about the fall out from The Duchess’s broken sleep and her inevitable grumpiness. The Captain then gleefully announced that we were about to enter, wait for it, THE BAY OF BISCAY. Notorious for its rough seas. He did however reassure all who were listening (many weren’t as they were still suffering the effects of Kate) that the weather would ease off and the sea would calm down.  And, it surely did.

The day went by and the sea got calmer as we approached ‘La Coruna’ corner and Cape Finistaire (the end of the world as the Romans would call it) and down the west coast of Portugal (thinking about it, Portugal only has a west coast) before entering the River Tagus and onwards to Lisbon, their first port of call: Landfall at last. It was here that Podge and Tubbs had booked their first excursion: They had already seen Sintra; they had already seen Obidos; they had already seen the town centre but, they had not visited The Monument to the Discoveries or the Belàm Tower. and so with an advertised excision to these places, the tour was booked and embarked upon also visiting the Jeronimos Monastery Church.

The coach driver / tour guide took everybody on the coach, including Podge & Tubbs around town eventually dropping them off outside of The Monument to the Discoveries with the guidance that it will be possible to walk to the Belàm Tower in about 10-15 minutes but they had to be back for the coach in 45 minutes after which they would be taken to the Jeronimos Monastery Church. So, as quickly as poor old Podge’s lungs would allow, the rushed around both sites to take the obligatory photos getting back just in time for the coach to depart. For those that live in or know Lisbon, they are probably in a state of wondering ‘Why?’. Well, after a 10-minute drive, the coach arrived outside the Monastery which as many will know, is across the road from the Monument: Everybody agreed, they could have walked there quicker. Still never mind, His Podgeness and Tubbs ‘The Duchess’ made their way into the Monastery, were [genuinely] filled with wonderment, came out and made their way along the road to the nearest custard tart shop after which they sat upon a park bench and gorged themselves. Hunger sated, the next, and final stop was the Black Horse Square, the largest square in Lisbon although the guide insisted it was the largest in Europe.  Lots of pickies later, it was back to the coach for the ride back to the ship which was actually only 500 meters away from the square. But Podge and Tubbs were happy and they retired to the bar for some well earned grape juice, of the Pinot variety.

Coming soon, beers in Gibraltar and Monks in Barcelona.

This trip to the Amazon was to be my third, the 2nd for Mrs Me, but the shortest. On previous trips, we’d sailed (on a cruise ship of course, I’m not that adventurous) up the Amazon (calling at Macapa) all the way to Manaus visiting Parintins and Santarem en route plus an overnight trip to Ariau Amazon Towers [some love it, some hate: – we love it], a kind of jungle lodge on stilts. This however the itinerary this year would be just Macapa and Santarem, to see the meeting of the waters and do a spot of piranha fishing. We were however due to do a ‘sail by’ of Devils Island as we came out of the Amazon (future Post).

The following is effectively a re-post [with slight alterations] of an earlier one in February but this time with pictures (displayed randomly) 🙂

As always, visiting the Amazon was to be the highlight of our trip, this time consisting of two days sailing along the mighty Amazon River and a day spent ashore at in the town of Santarem, located as it is, on the Tapajós River.

As we crossed the sandbar into ‘effectively’ the Mouth of the Amazon, we were still 60+ nautical miles away from the nearest lands! Yet even here, the water had turned into the muddy brown colour for which the river is well known.

Our first port of call, which was actually a 2-hour stop in the middle of the river, was at Macapa: This was to allow immigration officials and river pilots to join us, for the duration, to help navigate the river – sounds to me like a cool 3-day jolly if you ask me. Once on board, we set off and through the course of the first day, the Amazon unveiled its beauty for all to see: we passed isolated dwellings, little more than huts; sometimes built on stilts to lift them above the flood level, where the inhabitants would wave at us or even try to chase us in their little, woefully underpowered, boats. I have no idea whet would have done if they’d caught up with us (perhaps they were pirate scouts), but they never did, though it was quite amusing to watch them bob about somewhat precariously in the wake of our ship 🙂.

Day-2 brought us into Santarem and as we drew towards our mooring yours truly was dispatched by Mrs. Me to report back on our progress and to let her know, supported of course by her morning cup of team, when it was a suitable time for her to arise and view the town. When she did eventually surface, the temperature on our balcony, as indicated by my Garmin, was 97.7f: in anybody’s book, that is hot and for which I received my first thick ear of the day, for not warning her. But, arise she had to, as we were booked to take a boat trip to see the meeting of the waters, view locals wildlife and do a spot of piranha fishing.

The ‘Meeting of the Waters’ is an anomaly where the muddy brown waters of the Amazon River and the brilliant blue waters of the Tapajós River meet but don’t actually mix for a couple of miles and as such the two waters can be seen side by side as you sail along. This phenomena is similar to the more well knownMeeting of the Water where the mighty Amazon and the River Negro where the two waters, one sandy brown (The Amazon) and one almost black coloured (river Negro)

IMG_2073

After this we went to a smaller tributary to view the wildlife, you know the sort, cows, sheep, chickens, water buffalo, iguanas, sloths, vultures, etc., etc. Oh, we also saw some more local dwellings on stilts. After a while we stopped and started fishing for Piranha. Mrs. Me took her place on the boat between my and another gentleman and inevitably, after the other gentleman and I had pre-baited [her] swim, Mrs. Me hooked a Piranha and, accompanied by all sorts of squeaks & squeals, she eventually brought the poor creature on board for us all to look at.  Despite me wanting get a picture of Mrs. Me kissing the Piranha, the fish was having none of it and stayed firmly with the hook and line; probably a wise choice as she would have probably have just eaten it.

Go on, kiss it1

Go on, kiss it1

My next post, probably, will be about our sail-by of Devils Island and/or the crossing the line party [similar to last years Crossing the Line party but different boat, different crew & older passengers].

 

Of a Cruise Ship Passenger

So, when at home my daily dietary habits include:

Breakfast

Porridge or cereal

Lunch

Sandwich, maybe an omelet

Dinner

In the hands of Mrs. Me, I’m afraid.

Obviously along the way there may be a few drinks involved, a couple of glasses of wine, a couple of glasses of whiskey and of course coffee / tea and yes, even water. And this, along with occasional biscuit, cake, crisps etc. does me quite adequately for any day of the week.

So why is it that as soon as I and, I suspect many other people, board a cruise ship, we throw caution to the wind; discard common sense ignore what one’s body is saying and devour anything on offer.

When on a cruise ship however my dietary habits change and might typically include:

Breakfast

Porridge (maybe), fried eggs, bacon, sausage(s), beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, and [sometimes] black pudding, followed by toast and jam and a plate of fruit.

Lunch

Fish & chips, or curry and chips, or pie and chips plus a chocolate desert and maybe some fruit and a pint of lager

Tea

Sandwiches (small and various) plus a small cake and a glass of Rosé

Fivesie’s

Large gin & tonic plus a bowl of nibbles and maybe another gin & tonic

Dinner

Starter) Prawn Cocktail, Foie Gras or melon:

Main Course) Chicken or salmon or steak, with chips, maybe some peas;

Desert) whatever is on offer but normally includes cream / custard or, if I’m feeling a little too plump by this time of day, a sorbet. All accompanied by wine and liqueurs.

After Dinner Retire to see a show or listen to a band to enjoy a couple of glasses of wine / champagne / prosecco / and/or whiskey.

Obviously along the way there may be a few drinks involved, a couple of glasses of wine, a couple of glasses of whiskey and of course coffee / tea and yes, even water, but, no occasional biscuit, cake, crisps etc. I’m not a pig you know.

I have to admit, I did have a theory (see My Last Posting of the Cruise) that ‘one of the peculiarities of cruising, especially sea cruising is that the salt-water air has a tendency to reduce the elasticity of one’s clothing thus making them appear and feel so much tighter. I can think of no other explanation, save that of course of over eating, which I find hard to believe.’ – And to add insult to injury, even my feet need bigger shoes when I go cruising: How on earth does that happen?

And so, it’s back to MyFitnessPal. – just look for Podgethepuffer.

Must lose weight, must lose weight.

 

Flying Fish

Sitting on the balcony at 07:30 this morning, with the temperature hovering around 75f, in my shorts and (coffee stained) t-shirt (I got a thick ear for the t-shirt) I was mesmerized by the sight of so many flying fish as we sailed across the Atlantic off the coast of Guyana towards Trinidad. I wondered why these creatures take to the air when the natural habitat is in the sea. I assumed they were all trying to get away from predators but came to the conclusion that as the fish were doing this for so long, the predator must have been the Adonia (our cruise ship). I watched them as they came out of the sea and ‘flew’ across the tops of waves before once more returning to their natural element. I watched them as they came out singly; I watched them as they came out in large groups (as shoal becomes flock becomes shoal). I watched them as they covered amazing distances rising and falling above the rolling seas; I watched them as they ‘flew’ and even changed directions. I watched them for an hour, maybe longer. Then Mrs Me arose from her pit (bed), breaking my peace and solitude and demanded her morning tea: “Right away My Duchess” was my response as I scurried away to tend to my husbandly duties leaving the flying fish to their strange existence.

So Near, Yet So Far

The phrase Drive By is an often used / heard phrase though normally related to bad deeds. Well on the Adonia we were treated to a ‘Cruise By’ of Devils Island – home to the perpetrators of bad deeds: Devils Island was previously used as a French Penal Colony (until 1953) for really naughty people (murderers, political embarrassment, constant escapees, etc.). The islands, there’s three altogether, look like idyllic tropical islands but I doubt the naughty people shared the same thoughts. I so desperately wanted to get onto these islands but the sea state was such that a ‘Cruise By’ was all we would be able manage. As we approached the islands on our starboard side (that’s on the right for normal people) and just about every passenger clamored for the best spot from which to take photos. You’re truly was stuck at the back, temporarily, but, under the authoritative direction of Mrs. Me, I did manage to worm my way forward. But then, my sea going skills, possibly just guesswork, worked out that the boat would not be able to carry on right round the islands and that she would have to turn around and come back with the Islands to Port (on the left) and with this new found knowledge I instructed (I know, I was taking my life into my own hands here), but yes, ‘I instructed’ Mrs. Me to accompany me back the cabin: “not at this time of the day she said”. “No” I said, and then I explained that from our balcony we would have grandstand seats from which to view the islands. Finally she agreed but only after the promise of a large gin & tonic with ice and lemon. From there I was able to take some amazing photos, all of which are securely trapped in my nice shiny new camera with no means to transferring them to my laptop. Why? Because the adapter I brought had been damaged; through my own ineptness I had managed to bend half the pins rendering it useless. So the pictures will have to wait.

The Amazon / Tapajós

Visiting the Amazon was to be the highlight of our trip consisting of two days sailing along the mighty Amazon River and a day spent ashore at in the town of Santarem, located as it is, on the Tapajós River.

IMG_2073

As we crossed the sandbar into ‘effectively’ the Mouth of the Amazon, we were still 60+ nautical miles away from the nearest lands! Yet even here, the water had turned into the muddy brown colour for which the river is well known.

Our first port of call, which was actually a 2-hour stop in the middle of the river, was at Macapa: This was to allow immigration officials and river pilots to join us, for the duration, to help navigate the river – sounds to me like a cool 3-day jolly if you ask me. Once on board, we set off and through the course of the first day, the Amazon unveiled its beauty for all to see: we passed isolated dwellings, little more than huts; sometimes built on stilts to lift them above the flood level, where the inhabitants would wave at us or even try to chase us in their little, woefully underpowered, boats. I have no idea whet would have done if they’d caught up with us (perhaps they were pirate scouts), but they never did, though it was quite amusing to watch them bob about somewhat precariously in the wake of our ship :-).

Day-2 brought us into Santarem and as we drew towards our mooring yours truly was dispatched by Mrs. Me to report back on our progress and to let her know, supported of course by her morning cup of team, when it was a suitable time for her to arise and view the town. When she did eventually surface, the temperature on our balcony, as indicated by my Garmin, was 97.7f: in anybody’s book, that is hot and for which I received my first thick ear of the day, for not warning her. But, arise she had to, as we were booked to take a boat trip to see the meeting of the waters, view locals wildlife and do a spot of piranha fishing.

The ‘Meeting of the Waters’ is an anomaly where the muddy brown waters of the Amazon River and the brilliant blue waters of the Tapajós River meet but don’t actually mix for a couple of miles and as such the two waters can be seen side by side as you sail along.

After this we went to a smaller tributary to view the wildlife, you know the sort, cows, sheep, chickens, water buffalo, iguanas, sloths, vultures, etc., etc. Oh, we also saw some more local dwellings on stilts. After a while we stopped and started fishing for Piranha. Mrs. Me took her place on the boat between my and another gentleman and inevitably, after the other gentleman and I had pre-baited [her] swim, Mrs. Me hooked a Piranha and, accompanied by all sorts of squeaks & squeals, she eventually brought the poor creature on board for us all to look at. I took photos, of course I did, but they are stuck on my big camera, so they will have to follow but be assured, despite me wanting get a picture of Mrs. Me kissing the Piranha, the fish was having none of it and stayed firmly with the hook and line; probably a wise choice as she would have probably have just eaten it.

Next will be tales of Caibbean Islands, and Captains Gala Parties. and, hopefully, pictures from my camera.

Byeee

 

As John Wayne might not have said 🙂

I have a confession to make. Back in 2013, I wrote a post called [Milk: Good Food? Bad Food?] where having suffered from a number of chest infections a good dear friend of mine who, if she is reading this will probably throw her arms up in despair and come round to box my ears, advised me to cut out milk and related products. As I so wanted, nay, needed, to get back out cycling and I did actually quite like the idea of breathing, I did as I was told and the differences were remarkable. I’m not saying I was cured but my breathing did improve and yes, I did get back out on my bike and did actually build up to doing 50 – 60 miles rides so that I could take part in a 500 mile cycle challenge though France which consisted of 7-days cycling included 70, 80, or even 90 mile rides. And it felt so good. Podge was back in the saddle. Still fat, but back in the saddle nevertheless.

Sadly, having completed the cycle challenge, my bike was returned to the garage and I fell once into a life of dietary abuse. Yes, I went back to milk products. The lure of Shreddies and CoCo Pops was just too great.  It’s important to note that I could of course justify my actions thus:

  • Shreddies are full of roughage so good for weight management;
  • Scientists, doctors & professors had responded (mainly via LinkedIn) to my article on Milk  to say that there was little or no evidence to suggest that Milk was bad for respiratory problems;
  • Shreddies gave me energy;
  • My breathing was fine now so no need to worry;
  • I had my 60th Birthday and my Wedding Cruise to get through;
  • I liked my Shreddies.

Naturally, and conveniently, I ignored the fact that so many other people with respiratory problems had also responded to my post to the effect that Yes, Milk had been shown to be bad and cutting it from their diets made dramatic improvement.

Thinking back, I find it curious that those in the know (doctors, professors, etc.), really don’t know and those supposedly not in the know (those that actually suffer) actually do know a great deal: They certainly do know that when they cut out milk, the difference is quickly apparent.

Of course, through those winter months and of course my two P&O cruises, all milk related matters faded into obscurity. I’m sorry again Liz. And I gorged my way around the Canaries. I abused my digestive systems all through Christmas and then I just went overboard (no pun intended) in gluttony as we sailed around Australia and on to Singapore.

Then, in March, my health took a turn for the worse which was exacerbated (see, I do know big words) by the worst air pollution London (where I work) has seen for many, many years. This time however, I was really bad, to the point of being frightened, almost to the point of wishing I didn’t have to breathe any more. The Vets, sorry, doctors, put me on a course of steroids and antibiotics. I ate all these up but there was no improvement: walking from bedroom to bathroom still left me fighting to breath. The Vets 🙂 gave me a load more steroids and some seriously sting antibiotics. I ate all these. Still no change, though I diid notice the antibiotics had a strange effect on me, with each tablet having a similar effect to that of eating a tin beans: In hindsight, thats the only effect they had on me. I was still struggling. I went back to the Vets. They were perplexed. I had no infection but I was clearly fighting to breath. So they tried  putting me on water tablets(!). These were supposed to help get rid of any water retention (I made the mistake of telling them that I had developed Cankles while on holiday, which I normally do). Still no effect. I’d had enough: I didn’t know what to do: it was genuinely getting me down, and frightened. And then I had a eureka moment.

As I sat on the Sofa, tucking into my bowl of Shreddies, mixed with Cheerios, I suddenly remembered what I’d been told back in 2013 (sorry again Liz) and I’d actually advocated. Milk, yes, Milk is bad for people with respiratory problems. And not just milk, but products related to milk, such as cheese, which I happen to enjoy as well; though not with my cereals of course, were also bad. And as I sat there, ‘enjoying’ my breakfast even though every spoonful was followed by a fight to draw breath once more, I knew the answer: I had always known the answer. My dear friend Liz had given me the answer yet I’d fallen by the wayside once more. Some people are addicted nicotine (I once was myself, cue COPD); some people are addicted to alcohol (I’m not, but I do like it, honest, I’m not, I just like it, a lot 🙂 ); some idiots are addicted to narcotics (best of luck to them): I however am addicted to Milk, and I needed to kick the habit: I’ve beaten Nicotine addiction so milk should be a doodle. And so, with that thought, I made the  break.

24 hours makes all the difference

24 hours really does make all the difference because having taken milk and milk related products out of my diet, the very next day saw a marked improvement, an improvement that has continued to be so on a day by day basis. My breathing is easier, I’m more relaxed and almost a pleasure to be around. I’m not cured, but I’m getting better. I’m still fat but I’ll get thinner. I’m still old and, I’m glad to say, I’ll get older (a couple of times over the past couple of weeks I did wonder about that). I’m still ugly, but then the Good Lord decided that ugly I would be so I’ll probably stay ugly. Though, as I have told Mrs Me on a number of occasions, I am quite a catch so maybe not so ugly after all. The main point is, my breathing is improving and so long as I stay away from milk, and lose a bit of weight, my breathing should continue to improve. I hope so, I’ve a garage full of bicycles screaming out to be ridden.

And so with that, I really am getting of my milk and riding my bike.

And I don’t care if the effect is Psychosomatic or the consequence of withdrawing milk, the result is the same: I can breath.

Go Podge, go.