Fort Lauderdale is a leisurly hour drive from Miami and the airport, we checked out of the hotel at noon and loaded the car up, once you’ve checked out of the hotel and your bags are packed up that’s it - the day is wasted really, we didn't have to book the car back until 3.00pm and the flight home was not until 8.00pm so we had loads of time.
We took a slow drive south back through the Miami suburbs just to kill some time, did a right at the High Street and ended up at the airport just after 1.00pm. So what do you do - dump the car early or carry on driving around the airport perimeter road for another hour; we/she decided we’d drop off the car and check in early, get rid of the bags, have some lunch at the airport, get a paper and think of how to kill six hours until the flight.
It cost me $3 to rent a baggage trolley to load our four enormous bags onto and then found out the Virgin check in desk will not be opening until 3.30pm so we were stuck with the bags for another two hours, but we managed to find a table at Chillies where we could keep an eye on the bags and had a bit of lunch.
The check in desk opened on time and we were well early, we joined a queue of about 10 other couples, when we got to the front of the check in line we had to get Mr Jobsworth America, you know the sort 5’4”, 14 stone with piggy eyes. I asked for the seats near the emergency exits for a bit more leg room, he clicked away on his computer and said ‘Yes sir, there are still exit seats available’. Result, I thought, ‘Can we have two’. Sure you can, $75 each – plus tax, how do you want to pay’. – Pay ?? forget it I said . . . bastard.
Three suitcases were loaded and passed the weight test, one was well under weight but the last one was 8k overweight. We exchanged views on the fact that although this one was overweight, the four suitcases combined are within our weight allowance, but he insisted every individual case had to be 25k or under - and we’d need to repack them.
Now this is at the front of the queue and there are people backed up behind us in the queue and the thought of unpacking the bulging cases here was a nightmare. ’How much if we go to excess with this one bag’. I asked ‘Its $75 per bag’. – You can forget that too, I thought, Can’t you waive that charge, surely this flights not full. In his best monotone computer generated voice with a weasel like smirk, he said - I’m sorry sir, I can’t do that.
Its times like this that you realise being a member of the Virgin Atlantic Flying Club counts for bugger all, so I thought f*** you then, if you want to be pig headed about this I’m not shy, we’ll stand here at the front of the line and unpack the cases for as long as it takes - and all these other people can wait. He obviously couldn’t give a shit - so we did just that.
Having passed that we then had to hump our own bags over to the x-ray scanner and wait for them to be scanned; you can wait and watch if you want, he advised, they do it in front of you, but if you decide to go and let them get on with it and they want to open a case – they’ll bust it open - and reseal it with duct tape - if you’re lucky.
We waited and watched which was a good move as an ‘official’, who looked something like a rogue wheel clamper, decided that he wanted a closer look in one of our suitcases and we were there to give him the combination so he didn’t have to bust it open.
Now standing there and giving the Fed’s the combination number of the suitcase is not the sort of thing you would expect an Al Qaeda insurgent to be doing, but nevertheless having memorised the three digit number, he opened the case to take a look.
I’ve been around long enough to know its sensible to let them get on with it but I was interested in what he was interested in, and watched as he took out a small bottle of ‘Roses unsweetened lime juice’ (I had bought for making the Cosmopolitan Cocktails we had learned about on the ship) and he wiped it down with some explosive detecting pad which he fed into a detecting machine.
This guy had been humping and opening suitcases all day long and I dread to think of the cross contamination mess he'd be in if ever the machine found anything it didn’t like on any of his swabs from mine, or anyone elses suitcase.
The Roses unsweetened lime juice didn’t set off any alarms so I got it back, the case was not damaged and we never got banged up in Guantanamo Bay so it all turned out OK in the end but it reminded me why there is a 3 hour check in for American flights.
Small world II
We had several hours to kill at Miami Airport and having read the first Daily Mail I'd seen for six weeks cover to cover twice I was clicking my heels pondering on whether to have another pizza, when I bumped into an old mate who I was a Sergeant with at Carter Street in the early 80’s; turned out he’d just been on a cruise to the Caribbean and was going back to Heathrow on an earlier flight. Small world innit.
Welcome home
Home overnight on the redeye, arriving back at Heathrow at about 9am, Rebecca picked us up from the airport and dropped us at Victoria – where the trains were all f***ed up due to a frost the night before - welcome back to the real world . .
What now
New boiler, new bathroom bit of decorating and hopefully back to work just after Easter – can’t wait . . . .
Monday, 9 March 2009
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
The last knockings
Unfortunately Hector Gonzales never got my drinks bill from the ship and it was down to me. A quick drive to The Hilton Fort Lauderdale and surprisingly our room was ready for us – no waiting this time - and no-one had slept in it the night before . . . .
As expected (certainly for what were paying), the Hilton is a very nice hotel, right on the beach and walking distance from the bars and restaurants on the front. It’s still costing me $30 a night plus tax to park the car but I‘m getting used to being shafted every time I park that car – sometimes you’re shafted even when you’re still moving - toll roads and all that . .
Evidently they have had a bit of trouble with the fresh water supplies here the city authorities do something to it to purify it and it sends it a bit off colour; there are notices all around the hotel assuring us that the water is safe to drink, but I can’t quite bring myself to clean my teeth in water that looks like someone p***ed in it – anyway I think its all part of their master plan to flog us bottled water at extortionate hotel prices.
Great big flat screen telly, bathrobes with the Hilton logo and freebee Crabtree and Evelyn La Sourse soap, shampoo and shower gel stuff all nicely packaged in a rather pleasant shade of pastel blue; this nicely matches the wallpaper in our spare room I done up before we came away so if any of you happen to stay the night at ours in the near future, you’ll know where we bought the guest room soap !!
The room overlooks the Intercoastal waterways, a series on inlets running inland from the ocean that give this place its nickname as the Venice of America - or Florida - or something like that, there are loads of fantastic houses that back onto the Intercoastal, almost all have got a screened pool on the garden (yard) and most have an enormous boat on a private dock/mooring behind the pool.
If I ever move anywhere in America Fort Lauderdale is the place but it’s right what they say, no matter how nice it is here and how good the weather is, there’s no place like home, there ain’t no place like Asda Swanley, no Indian restaurant here can touch the Shaad in Swanley Lane, and Ocean Drive on a Saturday night is cool - but it can’t beat a rainy night in Soho.
This week has been a chill out week on the run down to coming home, this is the end of the line, back to reality and all that stuff, we fly out of Miami 8pm Wednesday evening and get home around 9.30am Thursday morning . . . Friday I start measuring up for a bathroom refit and then its back to Addison Lee by Easter.
I wonder if Neville Waterman ever made it home, I really hope he’s not booked on Virgin Flight 006 tomorrow night . . . .
God Bless America . . .
As expected (certainly for what were paying), the Hilton is a very nice hotel, right on the beach and walking distance from the bars and restaurants on the front. It’s still costing me $30 a night plus tax to park the car but I‘m getting used to being shafted every time I park that car – sometimes you’re shafted even when you’re still moving - toll roads and all that . .
Evidently they have had a bit of trouble with the fresh water supplies here the city authorities do something to it to purify it and it sends it a bit off colour; there are notices all around the hotel assuring us that the water is safe to drink, but I can’t quite bring myself to clean my teeth in water that looks like someone p***ed in it – anyway I think its all part of their master plan to flog us bottled water at extortionate hotel prices.
Great big flat screen telly, bathrobes with the Hilton logo and freebee Crabtree and Evelyn La Sourse soap, shampoo and shower gel stuff all nicely packaged in a rather pleasant shade of pastel blue; this nicely matches the wallpaper in our spare room I done up before we came away so if any of you happen to stay the night at ours in the near future, you’ll know where we bought the guest room soap !!
The room overlooks the Intercoastal waterways, a series on inlets running inland from the ocean that give this place its nickname as the Venice of America - or Florida - or something like that, there are loads of fantastic houses that back onto the Intercoastal, almost all have got a screened pool on the garden (yard) and most have an enormous boat on a private dock/mooring behind the pool.
If I ever move anywhere in America Fort Lauderdale is the place but it’s right what they say, no matter how nice it is here and how good the weather is, there’s no place like home, there ain’t no place like Asda Swanley, no Indian restaurant here can touch the Shaad in Swanley Lane, and Ocean Drive on a Saturday night is cool - but it can’t beat a rainy night in Soho.
This week has been a chill out week on the run down to coming home, this is the end of the line, back to reality and all that stuff, we fly out of Miami 8pm Wednesday evening and get home around 9.30am Thursday morning . . . Friday I start measuring up for a bathroom refit and then its back to Addison Lee by Easter.
I wonder if Neville Waterman ever made it home, I really hope he’s not booked on Virgin Flight 006 tomorrow night . . . .
God Bless America . . .
Sunday, 1 March 2009
The Cruise II
San Juan
Arrived at 5pm - on time despite re-routing via Freeport Bahamas, we’d been to San Juan before but not during the evening, which is why we booked a San Juan Night Life tour, it turned out to be a serious damp squib. It was scheduled as 2 hrs long and we were picked up at 6pm. We had a drive past a gas station where we were advised that gas was 47 cents a litre . . . and then we stopped at the new Convention Centre just up the road from the gas station. It was closed, but we learned from our specialist local guide, who doubled as the bus driver, that it was fully booked for weddings for five years – very helpful, big deal, thanks.
Then we were treated to a whiz round the town in their rush hour traffic, past the historic fort and to another stop at the Town Hall which evidently had nice ornate high ceilings - but was also closed it was past 6pm and all the civil servants had gone home nevertheless we stopped for a 15 minute photo opportunity . . . this would have been pretty crap even if they were open but closed ??? and I was struggling to get my head around where this fitted into the Night Life tour and thought we’d got on the wrong tour bus.
It was now getting dark so we must be coming up to the good bits soon and just before 7pm we arrived in the town centre, now we got on the bus just after 6pm at the port, had a 10 and a 15 minute photo stop and its now 6.50pm – we’d only been moving for a little over 20 minutes !! The driver advised us the shops were ‘up there and down here’, and told us too be sure to be back in an hour for the ride back to the ship (and so he could collect his tips as we got off). I asked him where the Night Life was and he said ‘up there and down here with the shops’. That was it.
San Juan is much like any other Caribbean Island flogging T-shirts, key rings and associated tosh to the tourists – same crap different island, and shopping was the last thing we were thinking of doing after 48 hours on the ship. Singularly unimpressed, we found a bar on our own; the Independence of the Seas was in port as well as our ship and a few of the European crewmembers were this bar so I guess we’d found the only bar in San Juan worth visiting – and we found it without the help of our specialist local guide - I’m not convinced there is any other night life in San Juan anyway.
We were back in the town square just before 8pm but the bus had gone without us, it was no big deal really, you could see the ship from the town square and we knew we could walk it easy and as the ship didn’t set sail until midnight - we went back to the bar.
I’ve already drafted my letter to Carnival . . . .
St Thomas
The next day we stopped at St Thomas, we’re not into culture and stuff and this place prides itself with selling diamonds at knock down prices – oh yeah . . . we’ve always avoided that sort of stuff and without being too unkind, as nice as it is - same tosh different island.
St Maartin
Next day at St Maartin, last time we were there we were rained off the beach just after we’d paid $10 to rent a sunbed for the day, not this time though went back to the same spot and had a very pleasant day on the beach and a pizza and beer lunch watching one of those Reggie bands.
That was that, it was back on the ship, two days at sea and back to Miami. Theresa topped up the tan and I tried to amuse myself by finding the most absurd signs on the ship that stated the obvious, I particularly smiled every time I came across the fluorescent yellow 8” x 10” sign that advised ‘CAUTION - do not to stand in way of sliding door’, I thought that was great, but then this ship is full of Americans; the instructions on how to open an individual box of Special K breakfast cereal made me smile too.
The mix of passengers on this ship was much the same as the last ship but a few more got tarted up for the formal Captains evenings. I was in the minority in my tux a few of our colonial cousins wore military dress uniform and others in a normal lounge suit and the occasional tie – the others just washed out their T shirts for the occasion.
Our dining table partners were a nice couple our age from North Carolina, they knew straight away that we were English, most Americans accuse us of being Australian, summink to do wiv the accent I fink, they only know what they see on the telly and if you don't talk like wot Prince Charles, The Queen, Helen Mirren or a BBC newsreader does, you can't possibly be English. I suspect our friends from North Carolina had seen EastEnders on a DVD so they got it right first time.
On Friday afternoon we joined 350 other passengers on a sponsored ‘Walk a mile round the decks’ event for the Susan G.Komen race for the cure charity, a US charity affiliated to the global breast cancer research movement that Carnival Cruise lines are supporting under the banner ‘On Deck for the Cure’. The ‘non competitive’ 1 mile walk tht was led by the Captain of the ship and several passengers who are survivors of this illness.
Earlier that day one of the passengers had won $500 on the onboard horseracing event and as well as doing the walk, he donated the $500 to the fund, the walkers were cheered on by a a crowd from the ships crew and a shedload of passengers who were dragged from their sunbeds to support of the walkers. It was a great event that brought a bit of lump to your throat really, it was a real good afternoon which raised over $4000 for the fund. (Www.Komen.org).
Saturday morning we disembarked (got off) the ship so efficiently it was unbelievable, we picked up the car drove north on Interstate 95 and by 10.30am we were checking into the Hilton Fort Lauderdale for our last four days of this jolly . . . . .
Arrived at 5pm - on time despite re-routing via Freeport Bahamas, we’d been to San Juan before but not during the evening, which is why we booked a San Juan Night Life tour, it turned out to be a serious damp squib. It was scheduled as 2 hrs long and we were picked up at 6pm. We had a drive past a gas station where we were advised that gas was 47 cents a litre . . . and then we stopped at the new Convention Centre just up the road from the gas station. It was closed, but we learned from our specialist local guide, who doubled as the bus driver, that it was fully booked for weddings for five years – very helpful, big deal, thanks.
Then we were treated to a whiz round the town in their rush hour traffic, past the historic fort and to another stop at the Town Hall which evidently had nice ornate high ceilings - but was also closed it was past 6pm and all the civil servants had gone home nevertheless we stopped for a 15 minute photo opportunity . . . this would have been pretty crap even if they were open but closed ??? and I was struggling to get my head around where this fitted into the Night Life tour and thought we’d got on the wrong tour bus.
It was now getting dark so we must be coming up to the good bits soon and just before 7pm we arrived in the town centre, now we got on the bus just after 6pm at the port, had a 10 and a 15 minute photo stop and its now 6.50pm – we’d only been moving for a little over 20 minutes !! The driver advised us the shops were ‘up there and down here’, and told us too be sure to be back in an hour for the ride back to the ship (and so he could collect his tips as we got off). I asked him where the Night Life was and he said ‘up there and down here with the shops’. That was it.
San Juan is much like any other Caribbean Island flogging T-shirts, key rings and associated tosh to the tourists – same crap different island, and shopping was the last thing we were thinking of doing after 48 hours on the ship. Singularly unimpressed, we found a bar on our own; the Independence of the Seas was in port as well as our ship and a few of the European crewmembers were this bar so I guess we’d found the only bar in San Juan worth visiting – and we found it without the help of our specialist local guide - I’m not convinced there is any other night life in San Juan anyway.
We were back in the town square just before 8pm but the bus had gone without us, it was no big deal really, you could see the ship from the town square and we knew we could walk it easy and as the ship didn’t set sail until midnight - we went back to the bar.
I’ve already drafted my letter to Carnival . . . .
St Thomas
The next day we stopped at St Thomas, we’re not into culture and stuff and this place prides itself with selling diamonds at knock down prices – oh yeah . . . we’ve always avoided that sort of stuff and without being too unkind, as nice as it is - same tosh different island.
St Maartin
Next day at St Maartin, last time we were there we were rained off the beach just after we’d paid $10 to rent a sunbed for the day, not this time though went back to the same spot and had a very pleasant day on the beach and a pizza and beer lunch watching one of those Reggie bands.
That was that, it was back on the ship, two days at sea and back to Miami. Theresa topped up the tan and I tried to amuse myself by finding the most absurd signs on the ship that stated the obvious, I particularly smiled every time I came across the fluorescent yellow 8” x 10” sign that advised ‘CAUTION - do not to stand in way of sliding door’, I thought that was great, but then this ship is full of Americans; the instructions on how to open an individual box of Special K breakfast cereal made me smile too.
The mix of passengers on this ship was much the same as the last ship but a few more got tarted up for the formal Captains evenings. I was in the minority in my tux a few of our colonial cousins wore military dress uniform and others in a normal lounge suit and the occasional tie – the others just washed out their T shirts for the occasion.
Our dining table partners were a nice couple our age from North Carolina, they knew straight away that we were English, most Americans accuse us of being Australian, summink to do wiv the accent I fink, they only know what they see on the telly and if you don't talk like wot Prince Charles, The Queen, Helen Mirren or a BBC newsreader does, you can't possibly be English. I suspect our friends from North Carolina had seen EastEnders on a DVD so they got it right first time.
On Friday afternoon we joined 350 other passengers on a sponsored ‘Walk a mile round the decks’ event for the Susan G.Komen race for the cure charity, a US charity affiliated to the global breast cancer research movement that Carnival Cruise lines are supporting under the banner ‘On Deck for the Cure’. The ‘non competitive’ 1 mile walk tht was led by the Captain of the ship and several passengers who are survivors of this illness.
Earlier that day one of the passengers had won $500 on the onboard horseracing event and as well as doing the walk, he donated the $500 to the fund, the walkers were cheered on by a a crowd from the ships crew and a shedload of passengers who were dragged from their sunbeds to support of the walkers. It was a great event that brought a bit of lump to your throat really, it was a real good afternoon which raised over $4000 for the fund. (Www.Komen.org).
Saturday morning we disembarked (got off) the ship so efficiently it was unbelievable, we picked up the car drove north on Interstate 95 and by 10.30am we were checking into the Hilton Fort Lauderdale for our last four days of this jolly . . . . .
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Last night in Miami
Friday night we had a sensible Italian at a restaurant on Ocean Drive and thought we’d be sensible as we were sailing the next day – rather than a bottle of wine just a few cocktails and a bit of pasta. This was super cool Art Deco Ocean Drive and right on the front looking over South Beach, and we’d expected nuevo cuisine, we didn’t expect the traditionally large portions they serve up elsewhere in America.
We ordered two Margaritas and up came two enormous fishbowls of red liquid, I’d never seen a red Margarita before so we questioned his with the waiter – ‘Strawberry Margarita’, he said, ‘Speciality of a’Miami’ (he was Italian) – ok, so we gave it a go and it was certainly fully loaded with Tequila dunno where the strawberry came into it though. That lasted through dinner and we’re only a few blocks from the hotel so we stayed to watch the world go by; we couldn’t take another fishbowl so we ordered two regular Mojito’s – I might as well have asked for two pints of Bacardi because that’s what we got – in very long glasses.
Theresa had an unfortunate allergic reaction to the mint leaves in the Mojito (or the strawberry juice) which had affected her lower limbs - we had to get a cab home,
Saturday morning, large headaches all round and we had to check out by noon, we managed to get out by 1145; the drive to the Port of Miami would have taken 10 minutes but for the traffic and there was something surreal about driving such a short distance then joining on a ship a complete (and pleasant) contrast to 11 hours on a plane etc.
We dumped the baggage, bunged the porters, paid $140 to park the car and joined the line (queues) – we’re old hands at this lark now. First ticket check – passed ok, security check – passed ok, passport check – passed ok, then we had to see the Carnival Embarkation Clerk who gives you the on board credit card number – who happened to be Hispanic.
Because we were late bookings none of his paperwork/computer records had a cabin number on it and he asked if we had been allocated a cabin – 7203 I said. Click Click Click and he found us, ‘Ah ha, Mr and Mrs Waterman, welcome back’. (It’s all on the computer which shows we are return cruisers) . . . I’ll get your cards for you.
He came back with an envelope with two Gold cards - and took a second look at me - and then the computer screen – and then the cards - and put them on the desk in front of us. ‘Stateroom 7203 did you say’. ‘Yes’ . . . . I could see the name on the card and it wasn’t Waterman and he sussed straight away I was not your typical Hector Gonzalez - the name on the cards, but he checked the passports again just in case.
Here we go again I thought, something’s wrong - and off he minced to see a supervisor. It turned out that Hector and his wife had either cancelled late or moved to another cabin and their cards had not been destroyed – no drama, he said I’ll print some more for you – Oops the printers broken so they will have to do it for you when you get on board . . . . been here before mate, without a card they won’t let you on board. He reassured us they would if we explained what had happened.
I was really glad we had a very sharp Scottish girl on the gangplank who escorted us past Security and took us to the Pursers Desk – more accurately the back of the line for the Pursers Desk. Having got the cards we had to get back to the security man to take a photo and ‘bong us in’ to the ship – so they knew we were on board. What a performance, but with a bit of luck Hector will get my on board drinks bill . . . .
This ship is a bit newer, bigger and nicer than the Carnival Triumph and we had a right result on the cabin, as a late booker we were expecting an inside cabin but we’ve got a porthole cabin at the front of the ship right under the bridge. It’s a bit noisy when the Captain upstairs flushes his toilet but otherwise its cool.
We headed for the trough for lunch whilst the crew set about cranking up the motor to move off, and hour or so later three of our four bags were left outside the cabin and we started to unpack – expecting the fourth to arrive later but it never did.
Off we trot to the Customer Service Desk, joined the line for 20 minutes and then the clerk said ‘Have you checked that pile there’, pointing 10 feet away, ‘If a tag comes off a bag during loading we don’t know who owns it or what cabin to deliver is to so we leave theme there for passengers to claim them’, and there was ours right at the front of the pile – minus tag, trundled off thinking a notice or something could have saved me and everyone else lining up for 20 minutes with the same question . . . .
Nevertheless this crisis was over, Theresa is happy she has found her other 16 pairs of shoes and her curling tongs, and I’ve won’t have to wear trainers with my tuxedo.
We went to dinner at about 830ish and were allocated ‘anytime dining’, basically turn up when you like they sit you anywhere with anyone else – can be good way to meet people, never done it this way before – lets see how it goes. We had a bit of a numpty waiter so that all changed later but anyway during dinner we pondered on our next 48 hours at sea and the three ports of call, and then it came . . .. . THE ANNOUNCEMENT. . . .
‘Dis isa yo Capitaain speeeking from da Bridge (he’s Italian like the last one was). He explained that one of the crew needed urgent medical attention and we would be diverting to Freeport in The Bahamas to off load this crewman. It was a bit selfish of me but I thought, Fuck it here we go again . . . . of the last four cruises we’ve been on we’ve had missed stops on three.
I think someone must have heard me and knew I was pissed off because we never docked that night we just slowed down for a bit, I suspect that they got close to Freeport and cut the poor bugger loose in a liferaft on his own and after dispatching him the Captain cranked the motor up a bit and blatted on down to Puerto Rico.
After another 40 uneventful, people watching, hours at sea - we arrived on time – 5pm evening for a change . . . . this place is famous for making Baccardi rum so its Mojito time . . . . and we’re booked on a tour of San Juan’s Night Life . . . .
We ordered two Margaritas and up came two enormous fishbowls of red liquid, I’d never seen a red Margarita before so we questioned his with the waiter – ‘Strawberry Margarita’, he said, ‘Speciality of a’Miami’ (he was Italian) – ok, so we gave it a go and it was certainly fully loaded with Tequila dunno where the strawberry came into it though. That lasted through dinner and we’re only a few blocks from the hotel so we stayed to watch the world go by; we couldn’t take another fishbowl so we ordered two regular Mojito’s – I might as well have asked for two pints of Bacardi because that’s what we got – in very long glasses.
Theresa had an unfortunate allergic reaction to the mint leaves in the Mojito (or the strawberry juice) which had affected her lower limbs - we had to get a cab home,
Saturday morning, large headaches all round and we had to check out by noon, we managed to get out by 1145; the drive to the Port of Miami would have taken 10 minutes but for the traffic and there was something surreal about driving such a short distance then joining on a ship a complete (and pleasant) contrast to 11 hours on a plane etc.
We dumped the baggage, bunged the porters, paid $140 to park the car and joined the line (queues) – we’re old hands at this lark now. First ticket check – passed ok, security check – passed ok, passport check – passed ok, then we had to see the Carnival Embarkation Clerk who gives you the on board credit card number – who happened to be Hispanic.
Because we were late bookings none of his paperwork/computer records had a cabin number on it and he asked if we had been allocated a cabin – 7203 I said. Click Click Click and he found us, ‘Ah ha, Mr and Mrs Waterman, welcome back’. (It’s all on the computer which shows we are return cruisers) . . . I’ll get your cards for you.
He came back with an envelope with two Gold cards - and took a second look at me - and then the computer screen – and then the cards - and put them on the desk in front of us. ‘Stateroom 7203 did you say’. ‘Yes’ . . . . I could see the name on the card and it wasn’t Waterman and he sussed straight away I was not your typical Hector Gonzalez - the name on the cards, but he checked the passports again just in case.
Here we go again I thought, something’s wrong - and off he minced to see a supervisor. It turned out that Hector and his wife had either cancelled late or moved to another cabin and their cards had not been destroyed – no drama, he said I’ll print some more for you – Oops the printers broken so they will have to do it for you when you get on board . . . . been here before mate, without a card they won’t let you on board. He reassured us they would if we explained what had happened.
I was really glad we had a very sharp Scottish girl on the gangplank who escorted us past Security and took us to the Pursers Desk – more accurately the back of the line for the Pursers Desk. Having got the cards we had to get back to the security man to take a photo and ‘bong us in’ to the ship – so they knew we were on board. What a performance, but with a bit of luck Hector will get my on board drinks bill . . . .
This ship is a bit newer, bigger and nicer than the Carnival Triumph and we had a right result on the cabin, as a late booker we were expecting an inside cabin but we’ve got a porthole cabin at the front of the ship right under the bridge. It’s a bit noisy when the Captain upstairs flushes his toilet but otherwise its cool.
We headed for the trough for lunch whilst the crew set about cranking up the motor to move off, and hour or so later three of our four bags were left outside the cabin and we started to unpack – expecting the fourth to arrive later but it never did.
Off we trot to the Customer Service Desk, joined the line for 20 minutes and then the clerk said ‘Have you checked that pile there’, pointing 10 feet away, ‘If a tag comes off a bag during loading we don’t know who owns it or what cabin to deliver is to so we leave theme there for passengers to claim them’, and there was ours right at the front of the pile – minus tag, trundled off thinking a notice or something could have saved me and everyone else lining up for 20 minutes with the same question . . . .
Nevertheless this crisis was over, Theresa is happy she has found her other 16 pairs of shoes and her curling tongs, and I’ve won’t have to wear trainers with my tuxedo.
We went to dinner at about 830ish and were allocated ‘anytime dining’, basically turn up when you like they sit you anywhere with anyone else – can be good way to meet people, never done it this way before – lets see how it goes. We had a bit of a numpty waiter so that all changed later but anyway during dinner we pondered on our next 48 hours at sea and the three ports of call, and then it came . . .. . THE ANNOUNCEMENT. . . .
‘Dis isa yo Capitaain speeeking from da Bridge (he’s Italian like the last one was). He explained that one of the crew needed urgent medical attention and we would be diverting to Freeport in The Bahamas to off load this crewman. It was a bit selfish of me but I thought, Fuck it here we go again . . . . of the last four cruises we’ve been on we’ve had missed stops on three.
I think someone must have heard me and knew I was pissed off because we never docked that night we just slowed down for a bit, I suspect that they got close to Freeport and cut the poor bugger loose in a liferaft on his own and after dispatching him the Captain cranked the motor up a bit and blatted on down to Puerto Rico.
After another 40 uneventful, people watching, hours at sea - we arrived on time – 5pm evening for a change . . . . this place is famous for making Baccardi rum so its Mojito time . . . . and we’re booked on a tour of San Juan’s Night Life . . . .
Friday, 20 February 2009
A home of our own
Last night (Thursday) we had a simple pizza for dinner watching the world go by in a nice open air Italian Restaurant on Lincoln, we were just into the second bottle of Pino Grigo pondering on where we would be living/sleeping for the next night/week when someone had a brainstorm; you’ll know straight away whose idea this was, but if you’re struggling her name begins with T and she recently retired from a well known high street bank.
We have (or more accurately our agent on our behalf has) been ringing around and working hard to find an apartment for us, and a lot of the half reasonable hotels are full, or have ramped up their rates due to the high season. I knew Theresa was scheming around something over dinner, I could tell because she was quiet - and when she’s quiet, she’s scheming or she’s asleep – and I could see she wasn’t asleep; she’d crunched a few numbers around in her head and reckoned that, with what we are paying/will have to pay in hotels/meals and parking that poxy car at $30 a night (plus tax) – we could go on another cruise for about the same price.
I didn’t need that much persuading but we only just managed to book the last cruise last minute - in time theres not a lot about, but it was worth another shot it's now two weeks later and two weeks is a long time in the travel business so they say. We boxed up the rest of the pizza, necked the Pino Grig and fired up the laptop back at the hotel. There were a few that were still available on the Internet and give or take a score or three, the books balanced. By now it's well gone 11pm so I sent a late night email to the agent with yet another plan of action . . . how about this . . .can we do this etc etc . . . . we really do owe her a bottle.
She has a good rapport with the cruise lines and I suspect that sorting this was far easier for her than trawling the Internet for apartments; she’d picked up the email at 7.30am and by the time I’d got up there was a reply, ‘I’m working on it - call me after 9.30am’ . . . and by noon we’d booked another cruise on the Carnival Liberty going out Saturday 21st – 7 days to the Eastern Caribbean - San Juan, St Thomas and St Maartin, we’ve been there before but not on this ship and shit, this beats the Miami YMCA.
So we nicked another night in the Shelborne and the current plan is for a nice bit of nosebag somewhere on Ocean Drive tonight and off to the Caribbean tomorrow. The Port of Miami (sounds posher than calling it the docks) is only a 20-minute drive away so I rather hope we’ll be on board in time to take luncheon - or worse case, afternoon tea.
Shit or bust – in for a penny and all that . . . when we come back we’re at the Hilton Hotel in Fort Lauderdale for 4 days until we fly home on 4th March
Our credit cards have taken a bit of a slapping out here and our children keep txting suggesting we should take care of ourselves and be sharing healthy salads at Burger King, can’t think why, did someone let on we may have to sell the house when we get back - to pay for parking the f***ing car in Miami.
And finally can anyone update Theresa on EastEnders American telly is crap . . .
We have (or more accurately our agent on our behalf has) been ringing around and working hard to find an apartment for us, and a lot of the half reasonable hotels are full, or have ramped up their rates due to the high season. I knew Theresa was scheming around something over dinner, I could tell because she was quiet - and when she’s quiet, she’s scheming or she’s asleep – and I could see she wasn’t asleep; she’d crunched a few numbers around in her head and reckoned that, with what we are paying/will have to pay in hotels/meals and parking that poxy car at $30 a night (plus tax) – we could go on another cruise for about the same price.
I didn’t need that much persuading but we only just managed to book the last cruise last minute - in time theres not a lot about, but it was worth another shot it's now two weeks later and two weeks is a long time in the travel business so they say. We boxed up the rest of the pizza, necked the Pino Grig and fired up the laptop back at the hotel. There were a few that were still available on the Internet and give or take a score or three, the books balanced. By now it's well gone 11pm so I sent a late night email to the agent with yet another plan of action . . . how about this . . .can we do this etc etc . . . . we really do owe her a bottle.
She has a good rapport with the cruise lines and I suspect that sorting this was far easier for her than trawling the Internet for apartments; she’d picked up the email at 7.30am and by the time I’d got up there was a reply, ‘I’m working on it - call me after 9.30am’ . . . and by noon we’d booked another cruise on the Carnival Liberty going out Saturday 21st – 7 days to the Eastern Caribbean - San Juan, St Thomas and St Maartin, we’ve been there before but not on this ship and shit, this beats the Miami YMCA.
So we nicked another night in the Shelborne and the current plan is for a nice bit of nosebag somewhere on Ocean Drive tonight and off to the Caribbean tomorrow. The Port of Miami (sounds posher than calling it the docks) is only a 20-minute drive away so I rather hope we’ll be on board in time to take luncheon - or worse case, afternoon tea.
Shit or bust – in for a penny and all that . . . when we come back we’re at the Hilton Hotel in Fort Lauderdale for 4 days until we fly home on 4th March
Our credit cards have taken a bit of a slapping out here and our children keep txting suggesting we should take care of ourselves and be sharing healthy salads at Burger King, can’t think why, did someone let on we may have to sell the house when we get back - to pay for parking the f***ing car in Miami.
And finally can anyone update Theresa on EastEnders American telly is crap . . .
Thursday, 19 February 2009
US Highway One (North) - the road to nowhere
Wednesday morning 11am - we left Key West for the drive back North, we were going to stay for a few days at one of the other 'Keys' on the way back up – perhaps Marathon Key or Key Largo, but we had driven through/past them on the way down, there were loads of speed boats and cruisers up for sale alongside the highway and several tatty looking redneck trailer parks, the trailer parks did put us off a bit. These particular Keys looked good fun if you are into camping, fishing, boating/diving and stuff like that but as we don’t do any of that we passed; perhaps we pre-judged them but nevertheless we decided against it and changed our plans.
So after Kew West we were looking at an apartment in Fort Lauderdale for 10 days or so – we’re a bit sick of the sight of hotel rooms and wanted some stability for a week or so with a bit more space - 'hotelled out' is the phrase I believe. Fort Lauderdale holds a place very dear to my heart - I spent 8 sunny days there in January 1990 on a job - and Uncle Sam paid.
We found out to our cost that a there is not a lot left available as this is peak season here and a the majority are up for rent for a minimum of 30 days, picking one up for 10 days is a little bit more challenging and in any case, our agent here was having trouble contacting the agents for the one apartment she found that was was available.
She couldn’t reach the agents to book it by the time we left Key West so realistically we had nowhere to lay our heads on Wednesday night. We didn’t want to stay in Key West another night so, whilst our agent tried to get hold of the agents for the apartment in Fort Lauderdale, we said we’d drive up to Miami, its on the way to FL anyway and the 4 hour drive up would give her a bit more time to sort things – confused . . . so was Tre . . . .
At 4pm we were at Miami Beach and we called her but still no joy with the condo - so thats confirmed - we were officially homeless vagrants, 4 great big Samsonite suitcases, a car that costs a fortune to park (in Miami even the meters take credit cards), and no bed for the night - and there was certainly no room to sleep in the car, not that Mrs Waterman even considered that . . . but I suppose there are worse places to be stranded than in Miami Beach - and it was hot.
Sue (our agent – she has been good to us) rung around and rescued us, we managed to avoid the vagrant shelter and the YMCA and she got us a bed for a few nights at the Shelborne Hotel on Collins, (WWW.Shelborne.com) - it’s a pretty cool Art Deco type hotel we've got an Ocean view for a change, and the hotel backs right onto South Beach and it's just few blocks away from the ultra sexy Ocean Drive and Lincoln Road where all the restaurants and bars are.
Where we go from here on Friday morning is still being worked on – I guess there’s always the beach !!
So after Kew West we were looking at an apartment in Fort Lauderdale for 10 days or so – we’re a bit sick of the sight of hotel rooms and wanted some stability for a week or so with a bit more space - 'hotelled out' is the phrase I believe. Fort Lauderdale holds a place very dear to my heart - I spent 8 sunny days there in January 1990 on a job - and Uncle Sam paid.
We found out to our cost that a there is not a lot left available as this is peak season here and a the majority are up for rent for a minimum of 30 days, picking one up for 10 days is a little bit more challenging and in any case, our agent here was having trouble contacting the agents for the one apartment she found that was was available.
She couldn’t reach the agents to book it by the time we left Key West so realistically we had nowhere to lay our heads on Wednesday night. We didn’t want to stay in Key West another night so, whilst our agent tried to get hold of the agents for the apartment in Fort Lauderdale, we said we’d drive up to Miami, its on the way to FL anyway and the 4 hour drive up would give her a bit more time to sort things – confused . . . so was Tre . . . .
At 4pm we were at Miami Beach and we called her but still no joy with the condo - so thats confirmed - we were officially homeless vagrants, 4 great big Samsonite suitcases, a car that costs a fortune to park (in Miami even the meters take credit cards), and no bed for the night - and there was certainly no room to sleep in the car, not that Mrs Waterman even considered that . . . but I suppose there are worse places to be stranded than in Miami Beach - and it was hot.
Sue (our agent – she has been good to us) rung around and rescued us, we managed to avoid the vagrant shelter and the YMCA and she got us a bed for a few nights at the Shelborne Hotel on Collins, (WWW.Shelborne.com) - it’s a pretty cool Art Deco type hotel we've got an Ocean view for a change, and the hotel backs right onto South Beach and it's just few blocks away from the ultra sexy Ocean Drive and Lincoln Road where all the restaurants and bars are.
Where we go from here on Friday morning is still being worked on – I guess there’s always the beach !!
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Miami - Key West
Got off the ship on Sunday morning and drove to Key West, I must say its not the sort of drive I’d like to do after having just got off a plane after 11 hours with two kids in tow. It was a bit slow mostly a single track highway with the occasional passing point and everyone in America seemed to be travelling to the Keys for the Bank Holiday Weekend (Presidents Day Monday 16th – more bad planning).
The driving instructions from Miami to Kew West were quite simple even though its 162miles, turn left at the dock gates take Highway One South for 161 miles over 42 bridges, take a right and two lefts and you’re there – right at the hotel.
Got stuck behind a few enormous camper homes that made our NZ and Oz vans look like mini vans; the Americans tend to tow the family car behind the bigger campers with a rigid tow bar so they can park up in the trailer park and use the family car to drive about town while on vacation – good idea, and you know the camper up front is a real big one when you see its towing a Hummer !!
The hotel is not allowed to be called a hotel it’s a guesthouse, Merlin Guesthouse 811 Simonton Street Key West - one of the Historic Key West Inns . . . . very quaint/colonial and rustic (1890) made of wood, with a tin roof, restored wooden floors, four poster bed, no wardrobes (3 hooks in the wall), vaulted ceilings and with a porch that you can sit on and watch the world go by.
The planning regulations are very strict on what you can and can’t do and the guesthouse has to be restored/maintained in keeping with the historic town surroundings. Our room has electrical sockets nine feet off the ground alongside the exposed ceiling joists – dunno how the planners worked that out, it’s a bit of a nuisance charging my phone when its hanging from the rafters.
All the American drunks from the ship seem to have followed us to Key West, this is real party town with loads of bars and restaurants, it pays to stick your head through the door of the bar before you commit to going in, they’ve got all sorts here, sometimes the rainbow flag outside is a clue, others try to catch you out, we’ve been approached by several transvestites, eccentric cross dressers and trans-genders inviting us in to see their show (I think that’s what they meant anyway), anything goes in this place and makes Old Compton Street on Friday/Saturday night look like Disneyland.
Loads of rock and roll pubs here heaving with legless punters overflowing onto the street with names like the Hogs Breath Saloon, Buffalo Bills Honky Tonk Saloon and Sloppy Joes Bar, I like a bit of loud music but neither these nor the tranny bars are the sort of place we’d choose for a drink after a nice grilled Mahi Mahi and a bottle of Chablis for dinner - takes all sorts, they say and its all in good fun.
The vast majority of people here either makes a living from alcohol or T shirt manufacturing, there is one with every slogan you can think of and a few I can relate to ‘Rehab is for quitters’ – ‘I dunno why I woke up so thirsty this morning, I had loads to drink last night’, - ‘A good lawyer knows the law – a great Lawyer knows the Judge; - if they don’t have what you want they’ll make it for you any text, any colour, any size and any insult - no holds barred, President Obama and George Bush have their fair share of dedications, I won’t mention them here, I might get banged up for treason – God Bless America.
Discovered a new cocktail on the ship called a Cosmopolitan (aka Cosmo) – large slug of Vodka, a smidgeon of Cointreau, a smidgeon of unsweetened lime juice and top with Cranberry juice, shake through crushed ice and pour with a twist of lemon peel –try it – fantastic . . . . reminds me of my favourite T shirt slogan ‘What’s the point of drinking if it don’t make ya’ feel different’.
Weather hot (late 70’s) and sunny - moving back up north to Miami for a few days Wednesday morning and then perhaps to Fort Lauderdale - that bit is yet to be decided.
Keep watching . . . .
The driving instructions from Miami to Kew West were quite simple even though its 162miles, turn left at the dock gates take Highway One South for 161 miles over 42 bridges, take a right and two lefts and you’re there – right at the hotel.
Got stuck behind a few enormous camper homes that made our NZ and Oz vans look like mini vans; the Americans tend to tow the family car behind the bigger campers with a rigid tow bar so they can park up in the trailer park and use the family car to drive about town while on vacation – good idea, and you know the camper up front is a real big one when you see its towing a Hummer !!
The hotel is not allowed to be called a hotel it’s a guesthouse, Merlin Guesthouse 811 Simonton Street Key West - one of the Historic Key West Inns . . . . very quaint/colonial and rustic (1890) made of wood, with a tin roof, restored wooden floors, four poster bed, no wardrobes (3 hooks in the wall), vaulted ceilings and with a porch that you can sit on and watch the world go by.
The planning regulations are very strict on what you can and can’t do and the guesthouse has to be restored/maintained in keeping with the historic town surroundings. Our room has electrical sockets nine feet off the ground alongside the exposed ceiling joists – dunno how the planners worked that out, it’s a bit of a nuisance charging my phone when its hanging from the rafters.
All the American drunks from the ship seem to have followed us to Key West, this is real party town with loads of bars and restaurants, it pays to stick your head through the door of the bar before you commit to going in, they’ve got all sorts here, sometimes the rainbow flag outside is a clue, others try to catch you out, we’ve been approached by several transvestites, eccentric cross dressers and trans-genders inviting us in to see their show (I think that’s what they meant anyway), anything goes in this place and makes Old Compton Street on Friday/Saturday night look like Disneyland.
Loads of rock and roll pubs here heaving with legless punters overflowing onto the street with names like the Hogs Breath Saloon, Buffalo Bills Honky Tonk Saloon and Sloppy Joes Bar, I like a bit of loud music but neither these nor the tranny bars are the sort of place we’d choose for a drink after a nice grilled Mahi Mahi and a bottle of Chablis for dinner - takes all sorts, they say and its all in good fun.
The vast majority of people here either makes a living from alcohol or T shirt manufacturing, there is one with every slogan you can think of and a few I can relate to ‘Rehab is for quitters’ – ‘I dunno why I woke up so thirsty this morning, I had loads to drink last night’, - ‘A good lawyer knows the law – a great Lawyer knows the Judge; - if they don’t have what you want they’ll make it for you any text, any colour, any size and any insult - no holds barred, President Obama and George Bush have their fair share of dedications, I won’t mention them here, I might get banged up for treason – God Bless America.
Discovered a new cocktail on the ship called a Cosmopolitan (aka Cosmo) – large slug of Vodka, a smidgeon of Cointreau, a smidgeon of unsweetened lime juice and top with Cranberry juice, shake through crushed ice and pour with a twist of lemon peel –try it – fantastic . . . . reminds me of my favourite T shirt slogan ‘What’s the point of drinking if it don’t make ya’ feel different’.
Weather hot (late 70’s) and sunny - moving back up north to Miami for a few days Wednesday morning and then perhaps to Fort Lauderdale - that bit is yet to be decided.
Keep watching . . . .
Friday, 13 February 2009
Friday 13th . . .
Friday 13th - Now in Mexico for the day – had lunch at a real cool restaurant called Pancho’s backyard in Cozumel, the best Margaritas in the Caribbean but they come by the pint and two’s the record. Theresa is shit faced and gone to bed.
No drama’s last few days but Friday 13th – expecting to sink before midnight.
No drama’s last few days but Friday 13th – expecting to sink before midnight.
Thursday 12th at Sea
I tried to hack in to several wireless systems offshore in Jamaica and in Grand Cayman but Carnival appear to be jamming them so you have to pay Carnival’s extortionate Wi Fi fees if you want to go on line at sea - even McDonalds provide free wi fi at home, but Carnival say its something to do with the satellite.
Last night was a formal black tie dinner on board, we were surprised to see how few people took the trouble to get tarted up on the formal nights. Although the ship is full, the formal sit down dining rooms are half empty and have been every night since we left Miami, I suspect that most of the rednecks are in ‘The Trough’ (buffet) where you don’t have to dress up.
Last night was a formal black tie dinner on board, we were surprised to see how few people took the trouble to get tarted up on the formal nights. Although the ship is full, the formal sit down dining rooms are half empty and have been every night since we left Miami, I suspect that most of the rednecks are in ‘The Trough’ (buffet) where you don’t have to dress up.
Wednesday Grand Cayman
Terra ferma.
Got up and got off the ship at last we went to the rather pleasant Seven mile beach (its seven miles long), bit busier than when we were last here, caught some rays but otherwise nothing of note happened.
I did manage to choose my own shirt and trousers to wear last night - all on my own, and she approved.
Now on the way to Mexico – hope its cold in London.
Got up and got off the ship at last we went to the rather pleasant Seven mile beach (its seven miles long), bit busier than when we were last here, caught some rays but otherwise nothing of note happened.
I did manage to choose my own shirt and trousers to wear last night - all on my own, and she approved.
Now on the way to Mexico – hope its cold in London.
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