Going home

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 . . . .

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 . . .

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 . . . . .

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 . . . .

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 . . .

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 !!

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 . . . .

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.

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.

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.

On to Miami

The drive to Miami was 120 or so miles, 80 of those miles were west/east on Interstate Highway 75 through the Everglades National Park – sounds cool, in fact it’s a real shit drive on a six lane concrete highway with never ending scrubland either side.

On the way we saw at least six cars broken down and/or with punctures I didn’t tell her this but for some reason I was paranoid about getting a puncture, one puncture I could cope with we had a spare but what of I got another one out here . . . how do you get the AA out here, we’d be in deep shit and we had to be in Miami by 4pm at the latest.

My paranoia was unfounded and we made it to the Port of Miami where we saw the magnificent Carnival Triumph. We were directed to the luggage check in where we had to bung the porters to do their job and take the bags 20 yards to the ship. Having bunged said porter, he grunted some directions to the long-term car park where they fleeced us of $140 to park the car for a week, ‘Y’all have a nice vacation now’, an’ remember buddy, nothings free in the land of the free’.

So we never did get that our cheap deal we heard so much about – book it Friday turn up and go on Saturday they give them away – my arse, that bit of the master plan went to rat shit a fortnight ago this was the last available place on any ship going out in the window of time we are here, and the upgrade on the junk mail they sent us . . . the masters of small print say subject to availability – the ships full no upgrade - bastards.

They take their security seriously here, passport queues here, queues there, more search queues nothing new really, there’s a 50 metre exclusion zone around the ship at all times and we were escorted out of the Port of Miami into the open sea by a US Coast Guard rigid inflatable dinghy with two huge outboard motors on the back and an enormous 50 calibre machine gun mounted on the front, evidently to deter terrorist attacks from the port.

We were expecting the Snowbirds Cocoon club but our fellow passengers are a real mixed bag of all ages. Mostly American, a lot of the younger/middle aged passengers are like kids in a candy shop, believe it or not we are quite reserved when it comes to daytime drinking but this bunch are on the lash all day long a-whooping and a-partying in the bars and in the Casino as long as its open – although the global financial strife is all over CNN News here, there is no evidence of the credit crunch on this ship.

First off we’ve a day at sea (Sunday evening/night and all day Monday) on the way to Jamaica; we’ve been on cruises before sea days can be a drag and we amuse ourselves by parking up somewhere and people watching - and this place is as good as it gets - teenager Beavis and Butthead lookalikes with heads permanently plugged into iPods, tattooed grey haired men with ear rings and ponytails, ZZ Top look-alikes, bro’s from da ‘hood with jeans around their arse, massive training shoes and baseball caps set on their heads sideways/backwards, hairy Canadian Loggers on vacation loads of cosmetic surgery to spot.

The ship has its share of heavyweights, we try to sit near them when we can, it makes us look good, me like a seven stone wimp and Theresa looks like she needs a good dinner !!.

Some of the habits of our colonial cousins are amusing, I can now accurately guess the nationality of fellow passenger by their table manners, when it comes to a knife and fork I myself am a left hooker which always confuses waiters, but the other night in Naples, a group of youngish professional Americans were served a delightfully presented fish dish, the sort you see Gordon Ramsay knocking up on the telly and they set about by hacking lumps off of it with the side of the fork and scooping it up with just the fork, its like they don’t know how to use a knife; in the lunch dining room on the ship we sat with a group of educated middle aged ‘women who do lunch’ from Ohio, they ate in exactly the same fashion - so coarse.

People watching is such good sport, just as well we're both perfect, innit. God Bless America

Tuesday Ocho Rios

Reader discretion advised adult content

We had a half a day beach BBQ trip booked for Jamaica we set the alarm for 8am and ordered breakfast in the cabin for 8.15, giving us plenty of time for a shit, shave and shower for a 10am pick up for the beach.

I woke up first and was glad to see at last it’s sunny and hot outside, but we’re still out at sea (we should have docked by 7am), perhaps I misread it and we’re docking at 9. While we were eating breakfast there was a garbled tannoy announcement in the corridor, we couldn’t hear it and didn’t pay much attention to it; I assumed it was calling earlier shore excursions to their disembarkation points. We had plenty of time for our trip so we’d finish breakfast and crack on.

10 minutes later there came an announcement on the multi channel system that broadcasts into the rooms as well as in all the corridors and public areas – ‘Dis isa yo Capitaain speeeking (he’s Italian) you ain’ta goin nowhere today, itsa way too choppy, and da Jamaica Authorities closa da port off Ocho Rios’.

Fuck it !! – He went on to say he’d hang around a bit in case the weather changed and the Jamaicans changed their mind. I thought it didn’t look that bad myself, but no-one would listen to what I’ve got to say would they . . . . . evidently if the sea is too rough the swell throws the ship against the pier and smashes up the dock - pissing off the Jamaicans, or the motion of the ship could bounce passengers about and they could spill a Martini and someone could slip on the wet floor and it would create a passenger safety issue.

There are shedloads of cheesy ‘no win no fee’ lawyer ads on telly here, with well over 2000 Americans on board, all up for a bit of compo from Carnival if they stub a toe at sea, I suspect the potential for litigation was a big factor here and so after an hour when the weather never improved the Captain moved on. I can’t blame him really.

Pondering what to do now, we switched on the telly in the cabin and they were still showing the Carnival Cruises promotional video of all their Jamaican shore excursions to ‘save hundreds of dollars buying Caribbean tanzanite jewellery - visit fantastic unspoilt beaches, BBQ and party on the beach’ and shit like that – Nice, it was like them saying ‘Hey buddy - this is what you’re gonna be missing today’, rubbing salt in the wound and at the best really poor timing, they could have at least put on some more lawyer ads for us.

We got a refund for our shore trip and they gave us $20 a nut refund of Jamaican port fees that we/they never had to pay. No compensation though, weather factors are an act of God - read the small print, and off we sailed at a very leisurely pace for Grand Cayman imprisoned for another 24 hours, but at least the Jamaican sun was out and it was 80 something degrees, hot at last.

Q - What do 2500 pissed off people who are now stuck on a ship for another 24 hours want to do at the first sight of sun in 48 hours . . . .
A - right . . . . now this ship may have enough lifeboats for every passenger and crewmember, but it certainly ain’t got enough sun beds - and them yanks have learned a few tricks from the Germans. None of these cruise lines seem to have grasped the fact that the average passenger is far more likely to want a sun bed than need to be rescued at sea, and these lifeboats take up so much room where you could put loads of beds - and they’re cheaper than lifeboats too . . . but I suppose you can’t have everything, just ask that geezer on the Titanic, I bet they had loads of beds. Anyway I recon if you can’t swim you should stay away from boats.

We eventually found two sun beds together and set about making up for the last three weeks of cold Florida weather, Carnival were very good though, as a special concession and just for us, the Captain cancelled the crew’s day off, (they couldn’t go anywhere else anyway) and opened the Casino and all the bars and shops for us to use – so kind . . . . they never mentioned they saved a fortune in diesel by driving to Grand Cayman at 2 knots per hour rather than 25 kph - or is that me being cynical again.

St Pete’s - Naples

Reader discretion advised – adult content.

We spent three coldish days sightseeing and on Friday we drove down south to Naples, when we left St Pete’s it was 50 degrees at 11am as we drove the 120 miles south you could see the temperature on the car outside temp gauge rising to 68 degrees by the time we arrived 2.30pm. The News was saying the cold spell was on its way out bit it was still chilly as we checked into La Quinta Hotel for two nights.

We were struggling to get a room in Naples but our agent managed to get the last room in this hotel. When we got there we were given the key card and sent round to room 117 and found the bed had not been made up, no drama, the receptionist was very apologetic and said they had not let that room last night it should have been ready for occupancy. We had a bit of a wait until housekeeping sorted it but no problems - but this would feature again later during our short stay.

Naples is said to be the finest place in Florida and this is where the exceptionally wealthy live and come for the winter, it’s like living a scene from the movie Cocoon. The restaurants are jammed packed at 5.30pm and the main street, 5th Avenue had elderly men cruising the strip in red Ferraris and/or noisy Harley Davidson bikes, the shops carry all the designer labels and your nobody unless you have a personal trainer/therapist or have had cosmetic surgery. It’s a feast for people watchers - the people are so old here - I must have looked like a new kid in town, I was asked for photo ID to buy a drink !!

We were about 20 mins walk from 5th but after the long drive from St Pete’s down we decided just on a pizza and a bottle of wine in the Olive Garden Pizza restaurant adjacent to the hotel.

Fast food fast service

The restaurant service has been very fast here, in almost every restaurant we have been to this trip, after you had a starter and a main course, the waiter will come back and ask about dessert and coffee etc (as you would expect). We don’t usually take coffee (and I don’t eat sweet stuff) so if you decline, he says ‘Ok I’ll get you the check’, and a minute later the bill arrives, even though you may have half a bottle of wine left and want to sit there a bit longer and the restaurant is half empty. Sometimes this comes across like ‘If your not gonna buy anything else you can pay and p*** off.

I’m sure its never intended that way but several times we have booked a table for 8pm and be on the way out at nine. Same at this pizza place, nice pizza, nice staff - arrived 8.30pm waddled off - fully loaded and in bed just before 10 o’clock, which was just was well because our room with the disabled facilities was right next to the hotel services/maintenance room.

0730 Saturday morning – we learned that industrial sized hotel washing machines were housed in the services/maintenance room, and were fixed to the adjoining wall. They switched on and it was like trying to sleep on a production line, and we had a rare early start to our day. Theresa was not amused and had a moan at the receptionist who assured us there were no housekeeping staff in the building at that time and those machines could not possibly have come on without human interaction – so a mystery.

It’s still too cold for sitting around in the half sun, we re-visited a few places we had been on our last visit, McCabe’s Irish Bar where I remember asking the singer to sing ‘Whiskey In The Jar’ - and helping him with the words, and the Yabba restaurant where a waitress had a sense of humour bypass in relation to my George Bush joke. . . . . not this time though. Loads of ‘Open House’ (For Sale) signs went up on Saturday morning it appears even the mega rich may be struggling to stay afloat.

Saturday night was very pleasant, just meal in an Italian restaurant called Vergina on 5th Avenue, we managed to stretch to an hour and a half.

Sunday 0530 - Our neighbours in the next room were of African/American descent who came from Saint Louis, they had an early start on their trip to Fort Myers, they also had to get gas and make sure they had change for the tolls - why they ever needed to have a conversation at that time of day is beyond me - but then they were American, and we heard it all through the paper-thin walls when their booming voices woke us up, we also heard the early morning ABC and CNN news and ten minutes of rap shit on MTV.

We hoped they would get themselves ready and bugger off sharpish and we’d get back to sleep but after 15 or so minutes they were still at it so I called the night porter to sort it out. Ring ring - no answer, 5 minutes later ring ring - no answer – and again no answer. At 630am they left their room but left their telly on and blasting through the walls.

Enough is enough, where’s that f***ing night porter, still no answer. I conducted a fast time dynamic risk assessment, what’s worse the telly next door, or a violent death at the hands of the bro’ from da ‘hood in room 119. Praying he wouldn’t kill me, I got dressed and went and found him in the breakfast room, using the microwave as cover I politely asked him if he would mind turning the TV down in his room - I was committed now this would go one of two ways.

His wife was gobbing loudly on her mobile phone but thankfully he was half reasonable and I got out alive – he turned his telly off and they pissed off to Fort Myers – I went back to bed hoping he’d get a puncture.

We half dozed off back to sleep but then at 7.30am the bloody washing machines kicked in again . . . . this time Mr Angry called the Reception Desk and the Early Turn manager who had just arrived for work answered, I had a serious whinge and told him the saga of yesterday’s 7.30 washing machines, today’s early morning confrontation with the neighbours from hell that I had to deal with myself because your night porter was on the missing, and then the machines have just come on again – by magic.

He was also very customer service orientated customer is always right grovellingly apologising, but he too said the machines were not on a timer and no-one was here at that time, must have been that fucking tooth fairy then . . . the end result was we got the $130 off the bill.

We checked out extra early and made our way to Miami for the ship; on the way it dawned on me why the bed in our room, which they said had not been let the night before, had been slept in - and I sussed where the night porter was when he didn’t answer his phone forcing me to take on Iron Mike Tyson on me own - he was gonking in some other empty room - bastard. I thought about calling the manager to grass him up but I didn’t

Remember the name La Quinta Hotel, 1555 5th Avenue, Naples 33771 – room 117 - don’t stay in that room. This is going straight on TripAdvisor when we get home.

Mickey says its bloody cold here . . . I thought the old saying 'You don't get owt for nowt', originated from the North of England - well now I know they got it from America . . . you get nothing for free in the land of the free, nice hotel we're at a good rate, but as always the masters of small print managed to ramp up another $25 dollars a night (plus tax) to park the car and use the hotels ameneties, (whether you want it or not) fitness center, paddleboats, beach beds and beach cabannas etc - yeah right . . the TV News says its the coldest its been here for 40 years, so cold the Snowbirds have gone back home up north and you pay a paddleboat boat you don't want and can't use even if you did.
We had a drive out to Anna Maria Island yesterday, we heard it was nice place and we had asked the travel agent if she could get us a hotel near the bars/restaurants for few days - she asked why we wanted to stay there . . . her tone of voice was why on earth do you want to stay there . . . and advised against it and thats how we we came to be in St Petes. It turned out that was very good advice they don't have any bars or restaurants, in fact there ain't much there at all, very unspoilt with lots of million dollar homes on the beach and apart from an ice cream parlour which also sold hot dogs and bagels, little else. There are 'no parking tow away zone signs' everywhere to stop visitors parking outside the millionaires houses - its like they don't want visitors there, apart from driving around there wasn't much for these tourists to do so we came back.
We braved the weather and had a stroll out and found a real cool fish/seafood restaurant last night called Snappers, I just looked it up on the net, they obviously pissed off a few people by the write up's they got on Tripadvisor, but without a doubt its was the best meal we have had in America certainly on this trip.

Moving on

We moved out of the apartment yesterday chasing the sun south to St Petersburg, unfortunately the sun was running faster than I was driving and when we got here a 'cold snap' had set in, it's sunny and dry but when the wind blows its a bit chilly.
We're in a nice hotel on the beach - not that we can use it, but at least there a few more bars and a variety of restaurants here. We broke our vows (again) last night, we always said we'd never have an Indian/Chinese etc when we were abroad on holiday - you can get that in Swanley High Street can't you - when in Rome etc etc, but we've had enough of deep fried American cuisine so we had a Greek mezee last night and the staff were real Greeks - those in the front of house were anyway.
On the way home the staff at the hotel were covering up the plants with old sheets to protect them from the cold, that don't look promising.
The weather reports suggest it will be coldish until the weekend by which time we will be on the ship on the way to Jamaica, I really hope its hot there - she might start smiling again then . . .

Weather report

Raining for the last two days . . . more shopping . . .

Cruise is booked

We finally managed to book a cruise although it was touch and go due to the Snowbirds taking over the place. We got a balcony cabin and we’re off on the Carnival Triumph out of Miami on Sunday 8th February 2009, it stops at Ocho Rios Jamaica, Grand Cayman in the Cayman Islands and Cozumel Mexico, looking forward to lunch at Pancho’s Backyard in Cozumel who make the best Margaritas in the Caribbean.

The Travel Agent here is working on some accommodation when we leave the apartment and we’re planning to head out west to Anna Marie Island for a few days then down through Sarasota and across to Naples where we have been before, and a final drive to Miami on Sunday morning.

Now that’s all booked up Theresa’s stress levels are coming down to a manageable level and its spooky, just after we booked this, she got a spam/junk email from Carnival Cruises advising if we booked a cruise with them before 31.1.09 we’d get a free upgrade. Their email came four hours after Carnival had confirmed our booking with the Travel Agents so we emailed Carnival direct saying thank you very much, we have just booked with you . . this our booking reference etc etc, look forward to our complimentary upgrade – we’ll see !!

Some very odd licensing laws

Whilst the complex we are on is new and very nice, there’s not a lot of development within walking distance, stacks of bars and restaurants within 10 minutes driving distance but drink drive etc etc ‘nuff said, I don’t want to sample the county jail.

The best restaurant within walking distance is called Applebees, like at TGI Friday set up but not as loud, loads of locals use it. They have some odd regulations here in the land of the free.
The other night we went in there and it happened to be happy hour (all evening) – we never knew that - honest, but it seems happy hour only applies to selected cocktails and wine.

Theresa ordered a Margarita – and got two, I ordered a Stella and got one . . . . so be it, we ordered a meal and the Stella and two Margaritas (neither was up to much), didn’t last long so we decided to have a bottle of vin blanc. Neither of us had our glasses with us and in the subdued light we pitched for a bottle of the one in the middle of the list of three.

The very polite high school waitress looked a bit concerned about that and hurried away, next minute the supervisor came across and said ‘I understand you want a bottle of so and so wine’, yes please, we said. He explained that they didn’t have a licence to sell wine by the bottle but we were welcome to sit here all night drinking by the glass 2 for one of the same wine we just tried to order – work that one out !!, as far as I could see all that achieved is that we never handled the bottle . . . . big deal - so we did.

Floridian Fine Dining

There is an old Native American Indian saying here that goes something like ‘When in Florida eat plenty Lobster’; several years ago we found this restaurant called Angels, its called that because when you go there you have arrived in heaven. It’s an eat as much as you can seafood restaurant, the price has gone up since we were here last but for $36 you can do just that and it includes every species of sea food you can think of - including Lobster.

They are not the biggest Lobsters I have seen, but you can genuinely sit there and eat as many as you want - all night if you want. Last time we were here, Paul and I had a competition who could eat the most Lobsters, I can’t remember who won that time but Theresa and I had a re-match last night. She managed just two, I was well into my third and took a breather, but I remembered the old Indian saying ‘When in Florida . . . by now the place had emptied out a bit and the staff were starting to clear away – I’ll have just one more.

I went up to the counter for the fourth time and joked with server ‘My wife says I can only have one more then we’ve got to go’, in a half-hearted effort to convince him I wasn’t just pigging out, ‘No problem buddy’, and he went out to the back and brought this enormous beast from the kitchen. ‘Enjoy’ he said . . . I suspect he was thinking ‘This’ll teach him !!’.

This was the sort of creature you see in horror movies and certainly wouldn’t want to have met when he was alive, if they were this size from the start I would have surrendered on three but having ordered it, its not polite to leave it we called him CLAWS. Theresa wouldn’t help me out, the waitress was hovering and I could read her mind - she was thinking just what Theresa was saying, but I did manage to finish it and the record stands at four – but I did double up on my cholesterol tablets just in case.

It’s a small world innit

Last Sunday night we went into a Brit bar fashioned out of a new build shop front a few doors away from the Indian Restaurant, we arrived at 10pm just as they were closing up, we had one drink and they were very apologetic that they were closing and explained they only shut at 10 on Sundays, come back any time we normally stay open until 2/3am.

It was about 10pm as we waddled out of Angels last night, we dumped the car at the apartment and walked back to the Brit bar. There was no way I could lay a pint on top of all that Lobster so we settled for a glass or two of white wine. The staff and the other punters soon recognise your accent and you get drawn into the conversation.

It turns out that the owner originally came from Bexleyheath, and he used to own several hamburger trailers that he had set up outside B&Q in Dartford and Charlton, we had used both. He sold up three years ago moved out here and set up the bar. His accountant was in Swanley and we spent a few hours talking over the old country and getting genned up on local places to eat and the likes.

By 12.30am I still hadn’t digested the fourth Lobster and we’d both had enough and called it a day and staggered off to bed.

Weather report – hot and sunny just as Florida should be, off to the beach today - hope its cold there . . . . .

Shopping Folly

I know you are busy working people but I guess from what you have read so far you may think I have nothing better to do with my time than trawl around shops, laze about in the sun, drink wine and play on computers – those who thought that - you’re right.

Like most chaps I'm not fussed about shopping but I love the shops here, some things are very different and in an idle moment whilst in Wal-Mart I wandered off on my own and amused myself amongst the aisles. The ‘leisure’ section has loads of huntin’, shootin’ and fishin’ stuff and all manner of kit for outdoor activities – you can even buy a shotgun and some real cruel looking crossbow bolts/arrows ‘ideal for silently stalking/hunting/killing deer’ – if that’s what floats your boat - and this place is our equivalent of our Asda !!.

The contest on who can make the biggest barbecue is closely run between the Aussies and the Americans, and the Americans have plenty here, but I was particularly drawn to a smaller barbecue that Wal-Mart advertised as a ‘Tailgate Barbecue’. This is similar to those disposable aluminium foil ones we have at home but these had three 4” legs made from a light alloy, the idea is that you open the tailgate of your vehicle (pronounced veee – hickle) and place the barbecue on the tailgate while you cook the animal you just killed.

This barbecue is made in China but judging by the instructions on the box it is imported solely for the American market. The US Federal Government approved ‘elf an Safety’ warning reads ‘WARNING barbecue coals may get hot when lit’ . . . . no shit Sherlock - I thought to myself, the tailgate on a car is at the back, and so is the gas tank, I had this vision of Billy-Bob Redneck in Hicksville roasting a haunch of venison on his Chinese made Wal-Mart Tailgate BBQ - and setting fire to his truck.

Nevertheless I thought this was a good bit of kit in sensible hands but I had serious doubts that the insurance from Dollar Rent a Car would allow me to put one in the back of the Dodge so I passed on that, besides we were not planning to go hunting Moose and we had a new microwave in the apartment anyway.

I strayed across to the Pharmacy aisle and an elderly couple quickly put a box back on the shelf that they had been looking at and shuffled away. Force of habit (being professionally nosey in my past life), meant I was interested in what they were looking at - and I couldn’t believe it . . . . . it was a Wal-Mart DIY Enema kit, on special, buy two for $4 and save 29 cents.

I thought this was an interesting bit of kit but wondered why anyone would want to buy two, its made of plastic so why can’t you give it a spin in the dishwasher and reuse it . . . anyway if your colon was such a state as to need two shots, would you be bothered about saving 29 cents. I showed Theresa and she said I was sick and she wouldn’t let me buy one (or two).

God Bless America.

I wandered off again but was soon beckoned to the check-out to bag up the shopping, amongst the load was a box of eggs, nothing unusual there, but it appears these were 18 very special eggs. This is true, and I have photographic evidence to support this, the egg box says that these eggs are from ‘VEGETARIAN FED HENS’.

Now I scratched my arse and thought about that and, although I have no experience in the field of battery farming and chickens and the like, I don’t remember ever having heard of chickens being fed on anything other than corn and seeds, not in England anyway, and I thought that corn and seeds were vegetarian ??.

My over active imagination took me to a chicken farm somewhere in America where carnivorous hens are fed on pork chops, or of course, depending how you read the label, maybe it’s the people who actually fed the chickens who were the vegetarians, but if that’s the case . . . so what - I’ll have to talk this over with a vegetarian and the Egg Lady in Swanley Market when I get home - and let you know. If anyone can help me out here please do - I’m starting to think I need to do something more productive with my time.



The Sun’s out . . .

Having finally got into the sun, we met a young Scottish couple round the pool the other day, nice people, super fit marathon runners, they told us a serious tale of their 6 month old son who last week developed a mild chest infection.

Mum was obviously concerned and so took him to the doctor, the doctor said he didn’t see patients under 16 tears old and referred them to a specialist paediatrician, you could argue that was sensible in the circumstances; but then the paediatrician said he didn’t see children under 4 years old (??), so they were packed off to the Hospital. After being bounced around ER for a few hours they were given some steroid medication for the lad - and presented with a bill for $1600 – ouch . . . .

If ever there was a serious advert for medical insurance in America this was it and thankfully they were covered by their holiday insurance, but on a lighter note, I cast my mind back to that elderly couple in Wal-Mart and I now appreciate why some people resort to DIY jobs !! . . .

Last one today . . . . we had a curry the other night, US style – the restaurant was in a new shop front with flashing neon signs, the pastel pink interior desperately needed that flock wallpaper that they all have at home, it had the ambiance of a mortuary with its plastic tablecloths, cast iron furniture and heavy chunky wine glasses. My Lamb Rogan Josh was cubed lamb covered with a dark brown spicy gravy - I’m not complaining it didn’t taste that bad and I was gagging for a ruby anyway, but wasn’t the same as at home especially, when the waiter was a white American High School student.

Theresa didn’t finish all of her meal and we were offered a doggy bag (we never asked for one so I suspect they have mates in the Shaad in Swanley who told them we were coming); at home, as some of you may know, they take the plates away, pack your leftovers nicely in a box with a piece of fresh lemon and discretely present it to you at your table in a plain brown paper carrier bag. Not here, they brought us the check (bill) and at the same time left a polystyrene box (like you get a Big Mac in) and a plastic bag on the table – as if to say ‘sort it yourself’ . . . . and don’t you dare forget my 15% tip on your $60 dollar bill.

I love this place. . . . . must go I think the neighbours are about to turn their WiFi off again - stay tuned – hope the house is still intact and me cars still on the drive . .

God bless America . . .

Universal Studios

When we arrived in Florida it was colder than it was when we left England, for the first few days the weather meant that sunbathing was out of the question. We loaded up the kitchen and I was dragged around several shopping facilities whilst Theresa ‘got her bearings’ on various shopping malls and designer outlets.

Unable to sunbathe, we took a day to re-visit Universal Studios, we had been there a few times over the years but we wanted to go and have another look at some of the theme parks to see how they have changed over the years and this was first on the list. We arrived at 1230pm and were immediately relieved of $12 to park the car. Plenty of spaces, not too many people about not too crowded and I was interested to see the Blue Man Group were performing at the park that night – I have wanted to see this act for some time, perhaps we’ll give it a go tonight.

We got to the ticket booths no queues – looking good, two adults please, $89 dollars, she said - each …. plus tax = $191 dollars – how much - you sure . . . . I remember it was a bit exxy all those years ago when we had our kids with us but mentally that hurt. I asked where the Blue Man Group were and the lady behind the bullet proof bandit screen - Alice from Wisconsin, told me it was at 8pm tonight – you wanna ticket.

Now I thought they were one of the attractions, can’t we just queue up and go in like the rides ?? – No, its in the ‘thee derr’ (Theatre), you need a ticket - $84 dollars – each – plus tax. The ‘salesman’ gene that all Americans seem to have kicked in and Alice went on to explain that when the park shuts at six you can have a nice meal at our very own Universal Studios Boardwalk and see the show at 8pm . . . what do you mean the park shuts at six – last time we were here we were here ‘till midnight - seasonal, she quipped, we open late in the summer and we shut at six today. You want tickets.

I bit my lip and muttered I wished you told me that before I gave you nearly $200 for a half day visit I would have come back tomorrow at 8 - forget the Blue Man Group - I’ll watch it on YouTube . . . Have a nice day she said as we strolled off into the park doing some mental arithmetic that told us mum, dad with just two kids in tow - with lunch and sodas will cost at least $500 a day and I don’t suppose Disney and the other parks are any cheaper. . . .am I becoming mean and grumpy in my old age.

Anyway we had five hours to do what we had done in the past in 14 hours so I told Theresa that lunch was out of the question (saving a few bucks). No real change to the layout except they had split the park in two to make Universal World of Adventure - which we paid extra to visit. Although inside the park was quite busy with loads of people about, we were quite pleasantly surprised at the lack of queues (lines over here), seasonal I thought, and at least we can get around most of the park in our five hours without killing ourselves.

Whereas in the past you could see the queues and there was a cardboard sign that tells you how long the wait is, now its gone digital and a digital display estimates the waiting time. One such sign read 40 minutes, that can’t be right there’s no-one here, so we walked into the ‘Disaster Zone’ movie set thinking we’ll get straight on do the ride and out to the next one – wrong, all the queues are now inside the buildings under cover and out of sight, the line still snakes along the insides of the building and are as long as they ever were – 40 minutes was right.

We did the Disaster Movie set, the Terminator ride, the Revenge of the Mummy ride, the Men in Black (Alien Attack) ride, the Spiderman ride, like a pair of 10 year olds – we watched the Blues Brothers gig and then came across my hero - Homer Simpson, standing for photo opportunity with Marge, Bart and Lisa, I really wanted a photo with him but decided it may not be good for Anglo/US relations if I muscled a load of kids out of the way to get to the front, besides their dads were big and had tattoos, and I was too embarrassed to join the line.

I was a bit disappointed but Theresa comforted me by buying me a Bart Simpson pencil case and took me on the Simpsons ride; another 30 minute wait in this line and whilst queuing, this 10 year old American kid advised me that he thought the ride would be way too scary for me – dunno why he picked on me, but I told him Theresa will hold my hand and I think I’ll be ok.

We got on the ride and were strapped into the capsule, it was like an out of control rollercoaster ride through Springfield (that’s where the Simpsons live) of course the capsule never moves it just bounces around but the computer generated 3D cartoon effects were amazing with the screens rolling all around you to give the ‘sensation of rapid motion and flight’ – so the book said.

We came out with a mild form of motion sickness and I thought that the kid was right, it was a bit scary and I told Theresa that I was right - aren’t you glad we never had lunch.
Don’t let anyone tell you these places are just for kids.

We declined the offer of riding The Hulk Rollercoaster, these are not really our thing and this beast ran up about 100 feet violently twisted and turned upside down threw you about and down a water slide – no thanks, the Simpsons ride made me dizzy, so we watched the terror of others from the ground and were amused to see the stuff that had been caught in the safety net – dropped by punters from above, several pairs of sunglasses, a shirt, someones jacket, and I guess about $20 dollars in small change.

6pm soon came the light was fading and we were slung out of the park, a nice touch was the row of 20 or so staff in their costumes/uniform waving to us as we left ‘Good bye, please come back and see us again soon’ - Aaahhhh !!! all so very cute . . . . . I felt like saying $200 dollars a day, f*** you no chance . . . . and we deleted Disney, Sea World and the other theme parks from our list of things to do.

Good news now is that the rare cold snap has passed and its now back to a normal high 70’s and we’re off out in the sun.

Keep watching . . . . .

Upon arrival

More on that car. . .

We picked up the car in the dark and my initial thoughts were that it don’t look much like a jeep, the paperwork from England said its a Dodge Caliber and that’s what we got but its more like a chunky estate car, she said it looked like a jeep on the website !!. Its got these quaint little handles fixed to the inside of the doors that you have to crank to open and shut the windows – some of you may remember them, and you have to use the key to open the doors and trunk (that’s the boot to you Brits), one at a time. I guess that’s my fault for leaving the booking of the car to two women.

We got half a useless map from Dollar Rent a Car and set off to find the apartment. We were tired, we were driving on the right, it was dark and my sense of direction – if I ever had one, had all but deserted me - AND we couldn’t find the switch for the car interior light - that was a fun drive.

TIP – keep hold of some of that loose change you always have left over from your holiday – forget those charity envelopes for the third world kids you get on the plane home . . . let me tell you, a fistful of crisp new dollars and the travellers cheques you got from Marks and Spencer ain’t much good when you are driving on a toll road and get to an unmanned toll booth that says ‘exact coins only’.

The toll is only pennies but if you shoot the toll (don’t pay) the Feds get you on camera and you will be impounded at the next toll booth and fined $250 - and you’re in a one-way highway system so you can’t go back. What do you do . . . I must say I felt very smug when I tossed two quarters, a nickel and dime into the net and got a green light to go through.

We eventually made it to 3000 something West Irlo Bronson Highway Kissimmee (Nr Orlando) where we thought we were staying. It turns out that it’s an unmanned automated key pickup/drop point where we picked up a welcome pack that gave us a key and another map and told us we were actually staying 10 miles away in Davenport.

By now we had found the interior light and the new map was a bit better so we cracked on – but there’s no way I’m telling the Immigration man I erroneously gave him totally duff info.

The apartment is nice and tidy, on a new complex finished late 2008 - only 65% sold – mostly to holiday investors, and there are about 20 other families on the site so no problem parking, a nice pool but its been too bloody cold to use it and the planned clubhouse is still being used as the on site Sales Office but there’s a few bar/restaurants and a Publix supermarket nearby so we can survive. .

www.BellaPiazzaFL.com

Several of our neighbours are Snowbirds, this is an affectionate name Floridians give to geriatric (but very wealthy) Americans who live in the northern states but who migrate south to Florida to escape the harsh north American winters – hence their name Snowbirds. Most are 100 years old and drive enormous American cars and/or camper vans at 25 mph in the middle lanes. The locals like the trade they bring with them but not so keen on the disruption to the traffic on the highways and in the supermarket aisles.

These genteel old folks are tourists just like us so we live alongside them ok . . . that is until we tried to book our cruise.

Our master plan was to get a deal on a Caribbean cruise while we were here but it appears that the global economic downturn has conspired to trash our cruising plans in a very perverted way.

Worldwide interest rates have plummeted, and we are told that the Snowbirds have decided that, as they are getting crap interest on their investments here, they are cashing them in and enjoying themselves, spending their kids inheritance by taking bloody cruises out of Florida !!! Cruise prices at the end of 2008 were rock bottom due to the rescission and they were giving them away – now, 3 weeks later they have all but SOLD OUT – the Snowbirds have nicked all the deals – bastards - we may have literally missed the boat.

There is an unprecedented waiting list on some cruise lines (Princess) but we are working on another one, heaven forbid - I just don’t know what we’ll do if Mrs Waterman has to doss in an inside suite with no balcony for 10 days . . . . and an added downside is that whatever ship we get (if we get) the average age of the passengers will be 100 years old so I just know the wait for the elevators and the line for the trough will be unbearable.

We’ve got to sort something out, this apartment is only booked until 3rd February and then we’ll be sleeping in the Dodge !!!

Weather report - clear blue skies sunny cold but – they even had frost on the car windshields earlier in the week and they don’t sell de-icer in Florida !!!

Coming soon – Universal Studios .

Gatwick Tuesday

We spent Monday night (19th) at a hotel at Gatwick to avoid the potential for getting stuck on the M25 and missing the plane on Tuesday morning, had a good night and a Chinese and walked to the airport the next day . . . . that's where we met the Virgin Atlantic 'baggage dump' auto check in yourself help staff who enthusiastically welcomed us . . . 'Welcome to Virgin Atlantic Gatwick, thank you for flying with us and using auto check in etc etc . . . after handing over several reams of paper in lieu of paperless tickets and auto check in - 'Oh I see Mr Waterman has already checked in on line' . . . 'Oh no he ain't' - 'Oh yes he has - look - etc etc'.
Had to happen, then they checked Theresa's booking and she has NOT checked in on line. We explained that if Mr Waterman had checked in on line, Mrs Waterman his wife of 31 years and travelling companion who lives with him in the same house and uses the same computer would have done so too at the same time don't you think - Virgin Atlantic - 'No - oh dear you'd better see a supervisor' so off we trot to the check in desk like normal people have done for years.
We met a nice Asian chappie who seemed to know what he was doing and asked us if Neville was with us - who the f### is Neville, never mind, he said, they have fouled up the booking its all wrong on the computer. He was merrily click clicking away whilst we stood there worrying about excess baggage and stuff like that and after an age he announced 'All done' we piled on the bags and got away with no excess baggage grief and he handed us our boarding passes . . . job done - and off we went for a fat boys breakfast wondering who Neville is.
2 minutes later and having nearly got to the departure lounge, the Asian chap came running up to us and asked how many bags did we just check in - 4 you just took them - damn - excess baggage - I thought I'd got away with it. 'Can I see the bag tags' he asked, Yes 4 . . . . Oh, we've got 5 down to Waterman can you come back to the desk so we can sort this out - we did.
A charming elderly Virgin check in lady advised the Asian chap that he'd just deleted Neville Waterman (whoever he is) from the system and put me in his place . . . now it appears that Neville had earlier been mis-booked in my name, now they had deleted him and cancelled his boarding pass - but still had a bag in the hold with no punter attached to it.
Neville was now nowhere on the system but he was in the airport somewhere (probably having his fat boys breakfast) unaware he had been 'deleted' and holding a now very invalid boarding pass. It appears our Asian friend was the one who had now fouled up big time so off he went to see his boss with all our papers and passports and they sent someone looking for Neville.
He eventually came back with our papers and my joke that I hope Neville don't get my First Class seat or my air miles and that I hope my bags make it to Orlando and not Kowloon, fell on very deaf ears and I could see from his face that he felt it was in exceptionally poor taste. Anyway we got on board ok - dunno about Neville last we heard of him was the tannoy asking for him to return to the Virgin Desk - he's probably now in Guantanamo Bay or his bag might be unless it was subject of a controlled explosion at Gatwick . . . you couldn't make it up could you . . .

Orlando later that day . . .

I have long said that Immigration Officers are the worlds most miserable people - and we have seen many from different countries and races over the years . . . America was true to form last night. During the 11 hour flight I neatly filled in our Green Immigration Visa Waiver forms and Customs Declarations - the address we were staying at filled in every available little box and space on the form so I had to abbreviate it a bit, I put that we were staying at 3000 something West Irlo Bronson Highway, Orlando, Florida. After we had had our photo, fingerprints, iris scans and DNA swabs taken and the passports had been examined with a UV lamp and a sniffer dog - the Officer declared that West Irlo Bronson Highway was in Kissimmee not Orlando - I said I thought it's the same big place innit - bad move . . 'No, sir West Irlo Bronson Highway is in Kissimmee, you must put the correct details on the forms' he scolded . . sorry sir - I thought it best to keep my mouth shut and plead ignorance here, don't want to upset him any more . . . but I was dying to say that it's just like you coming to London and me saying no your not staying in London - you're staying in Shepherds Bush - same thing innit . . . anyway after several extra heavy thumps of his stamp all over our passports he let us go with a grunt and 'have a nice stay' - I knew he never meant it though.

The car . . .

Off we went to collect the car - and its dark outside now, Dollar Rent a Car Desk -the car is all paid for up front so its simple - walk up - show licence - collect car - go away with it, not quite . . I was offered an upgraded car, a SATNAV and 'tow truck' insurance, you'll love this, it appears if their car breaks down and they have to tow me in - I have to pay for the two truck - or of course I can take out insurance so that will pay . . . I don't think so - anyway, I said we've got this car for six weeks, how much if I said yes to all these extras . . . about $900 -no thanks . . . . and off we went into the darkness . . . and if you thought Florida was the sunshine State - its bloody freezing here . . .

More soon . . . .

The Plan

First time we have stepped into this new territory of cyberspace and the Internet blogs so here goes . . .

Theresa retired from the bank at the end of 2008 and I am temporarily retiring again - I gave the cab up on 16th January 2009.
Desperate for some sun, Theresa spent the last few months planning this six week jolly to the USA.
We have booked two weeks in Orlando Florida in a rather nice self catering apartment with a Jeep, just chilling out and perhaps visiting a few old friends and places we went to years ago with the children, and in slow time looking for a last minute deal on a Caribbean Cruise; evidently you can ring up on Friday and book a cabin on a ship going out Saturday and just turn up and go - they give them away $$ . . . you can do it if you are there in town, not so easy to do it from the UK, as you need to book flights and all that stuff . . . we'll see . . . .
When we come back from the cruise we have three weeks to do as we please and are thinking of driving down to the Florida Keys but thats an open diary at the moment we'll see how the mood takes us.