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 . . . .
Saturday, 28 February 2009
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
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.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
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 . . .
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 . . .
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