I had no intention of posting my Journal online but my mother requested that I do so as quickly as possible so she could read it. Thus, the rather disorganised, very personal posts that were published on this site initially.
I now am transferring the information and photographs in the posts to actual Pages. Each Page is devoted to a Country or Nation and will include all the Ports of Call that we visited even when the visits were separated by a number of days. When this task has been completed, I will delete the Posts that are nothing more than duplicates of the information in the Pages.
Monday, 10 June 2013
Friday, 7 June 2013
The Magical Moments
On every trip, there are some magical moments, often in situations unpredictable, curious, even trivial and yet they stay with one forever.
One such moment occurred on the day when the waves were highest and I went into the little pool on Deck 12. I felt I was adrift in the sea itself as the water rose and sank by a foot at least every few minutes. The waves roiled and crashed agains the tiles. I shut my eyes and simply existed in a primeval reality.
Another such moment occurred in the garden of St. Nicholas Church in Liverpool when I sat on a bench, accompanised by two fat pigeons and ate the little lunch I had prepared from croissants and ham early that morning at the Buffet at the King's Court. Absolute peace and, although we were due to sail out of Liverpool within a few hours, I had a brief illusion of timelessness. I shared the croissants with the two rather aggressive pigeons and thought about my Putti at home.
One such moment occurred on the day when the waves were highest and I went into the little pool on Deck 12. I felt I was adrift in the sea itself as the water rose and sank by a foot at least every few minutes. The waves roiled and crashed agains the tiles. I shut my eyes and simply existed in a primeval reality.
Another such moment occurred in the garden of St. Nicholas Church in Liverpool when I sat on a bench, accompanised by two fat pigeons and ate the little lunch I had prepared from croissants and ham early that morning at the Buffet at the King's Court. Absolute peace and, although we were due to sail out of Liverpool within a few hours, I had a brief illusion of timelessness. I shared the croissants with the two rather aggressive pigeons and thought about my Putti at home.
The moment when I saw the silhouettes of the three Swords in the Mountain outside Stavanger. That was one of those transcendental spiritual moments frozen in time. I shall never forget it. The wind was blowing and one almost could imagine the sounds of that ancient battle being fought out on the water. The three swords like the weapons of the Jotun, thrust into a hillock of shale stood dramatic against the smoky heavens. If I were to imagine the perfect symbol of my own soul, that would be it.
It is part of our fundamental human nature, i believe, to respond to the sight of a Full Moon. The view of the Full Moon over an open sea is even more thrilling. The curtains in the stateroom always were left open at night and the sun often rose at an ungodly hour, according to the ship's clocks, as we forever were gaining an hour or losing an hour on our travels across the Atlantic and between England and the Continent. Dawn often came at 4.00 a.m. but the days were long and sunset usually did not occur before 9.00 p.m.
I went to bed early but would fall asleep only to awaken again in the middle of the night. On the first night of the Full Moon, I awakened to the sight of a brilliant orb in the sky, creating a broad shimmering pathway along the surface of the sea from the horizon almost to the window.
The first night, the Moon was white, but on the second, it was almost orange.
One could see tiny pinpoints of light on the horizon on the second night... we obviously were not that far from land.
There was another magical moment one afternoon when, looking out of the window, I suddenly realised that a ballet of sorts was being enacted outside. Literally hundreds of tiny white birds were swooping and diving over the surface of the waves to rise again in clouds of fast-beating wings. I tried to capture the extraordinary sight in a photograph but did not meet with much success.
Such a pity... the tiny birds ARE in these photographs, even if one cannot see them. Their wings actually reflected the sunlight and their flight was almost dazzling. I expect they are not uncommon birds and that their antics are well-known to sailors but to me, it was quite enchanting.
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Formal Dining and the Apostleship of the Sea
Formal dinners at the Britannia Restaurant took place about half of the nights during the 29 day voyage. We had early seating at Table 260 which meant that we had to enter between 6.00 p.m. and 6.30 p.m. if we wished to take advantage of this option. Otherwise, we either had to pay for dinner at the Todd English Restaurant or fight off the crowds at the various Buffet sections of the King's Grill on Deck 7.
The first waiter we had at the Britannia was surly and uncommunicative to the point of making one feel uncomfortable. It is possible that his manner was caused by incipient illness for, two days after we set sail, he disappeared and was replaced by Edwin, a charming man from the Philippines.
What happens to members of the crew when they become ill or die? One would have assumed that Cunard would take care of them and either nurse them back to health or ship their bodies home to their families.
Evidently, this is NOT the case for the most part when the illness is serious or terminal. They are put ashore to fend for themselves. At least, this is what I was told by Priests who ministered to the Roman Catholic congregation and to Roman Catholic Crew Members on the Queen Mary 2.
The fact that Cunard and other lines do not assume responsiblity is the reason why the Apostleship of the Sea was created. It is an organisation that operates at the major ports to assist Crew Members who fell ill or die.
Entry from 26 May
As my mother requested that I post as much information as possible before she goes off on a trip of her own this morning, I am simply posting bits and pieces from journal and unfinished emails with a view to future organisation.
Journal from 26 May:
Yesterday, the sea was as calm as glass, truly. It was beautiful but boring. An enormous pumpkin-coloured full moon at night compensated for the lack of drama during the day. The moonlight trail from the edge of the horizon to the ship was fabulous. How can one not believe that one could step out upon such a trail to walk towards the Goddess of the Hunt in all her glory?
The previous night, the moon was white and full and my first view of it from my bed was a wonderful surprise. I took many photographs, all of which look like nothing more than a tiny disk or hole in a dark blanket. Even so, perhaps they captured the memory a little.
This morning, a terrific contrast in the emotions of the waters. The waves are so high that they dash themselves against the very top of the portholes on Deck 2 where Mass is celebrated each morning in the Illuminations Theatre. It is rather a fitting location, as the backdrop is a map of the heavens with twinlking constellations and large bronze murals of celestial classical guardians of the sky are on either side of the stage.
At first I thought we had been cheated somewhat because the 'new' celebrant is not a real priest. He is a deacon, which means, inter alia, that he does not have the power to perform the magic of transforming the wafers into the Body of Christ. Instead, he brings a little plastic food container each morning and counts out the number of blessed Hosts needed to satisfy the audience. It is very disappointing, although he is a nicer man than the last priest, who was an important political and social figure in the EU and a Monsignor with a wicked tongue and the desire to humble any one who dared to exhibit any intellectual spark whatsoever. As a survivor of throat cancer, I think he was daring us to have faith that we would not become infected by others, because he served communion of BOTH kinds and we all were forced to imbibe of the Blood of Christ from a communal chalice. Was this the source of my terrible illness? I hope not, although I wouldn't be surprised. The ship was packed with people who hacked and sneezed and honked into hankerchiefs constantly. It could have been from the Chlice or from sharing a lift with any one of these contaminated elderly specimens, that I caught my awful cold.
I had bee attending Mass on a daily basis until I fell ill. After that, I did not appear in the Illuminations again until yesterday when the politically grand but rather sadistic Monsignor had disembarked and the deacon had taken his place.
At first I did not have high expectations when the third celebrant appeared, but I came to respect him greatly. Although married (as deacons are allowed to be), he appears to have devoted his life wholeheartedly to the service of God and the public. He is based in Dover where he has served the needs of all who come and go at the port for decades. A truly wonderful man, actually.
I do miss our first priest, Father Roger Stone, who was truly a GOOD man with a big heart and a humble disposition. He was delgithed to have been chosen but was given a very brief 'gig' as they put him off at Southampton after the short Transatlantic Crossing. I shall keep in touch with him, though. He was a wonderful, inspiring man.
The priests are considered to be part of the 'Entertainment Team' on Cunard which is bizarre in one sense but logical in another. I was a little surprised by the number of people who attend Mass on a daily basis, but I suppose that they, like me, find it more convenient than a trip to the local Church at home and like to commune more closely with God when they feel that their safety may be a lttle more precarious, thousands of miles out on the open sea. Whatever their motives, I know that for my part it has been very interesting to see how different the three 'celebrants' have been and how diverse the ritual of the Mass that each performs.
Enough of the Entertainment onboard the Queen Mary 2. You will have to speak to Jim if you wish to hear about the nightly shows or the Casino action. I retired to the stateroom each night after dinner and it has become increasingly difficult to it through the formal dining each night.
I enjoy the days at sea, frankly. When one is visiting ports, one is conscious of a terrible anxiety not to waste the few hours one is given to go ashore. Frustration at not having more time combined with endless queues and other bureaucratic nonsense, including heightened security measures (all of which are utter nonsense) make the port calls less than totally pleasant.
If I had not fallen ill, I would have had a better experience during the last week. As it was, my throat was so sore that I was unable to swallow or even take a glass of water without experiening great discomfort. I ended up sucking on ice cubes for a little relief. I did not go ashore at all at Hamburg on our second visit to that port, although I was determined to walk the streets of Southampton. By then, Jim had succumbed to the sore throat, although he never has as severe an illness as I or even Freya experience. It put him in a bad temper though and he returned to the ship early on our day at Southampton.
I walked the old city walls (well, not the battlements but on the ground below) and visited Tudor House and the Bargate. It was so different from the city I knew almost 40 years ago! Tudor House has become very high tech with interactive exhibits and so on. The garden, however, remains its glory and is a typical, glorious English garden in medieval style with all the old herbs and 'cottage garden' flowers.
I then walked to the City Centre and ducked into Debenham's where I had purchased my Royal Albert Breakfast Set and my first turntable in my firstr year at University.
They advertised free wi-fi so I spent my meagre amount of funds upon a cup of carrot soup in order to take advantage of the free internet. Alas, I discovered that the system was down! Really disappointing. The soup was too spicy and I never would have ordered it were it not for the promise of the wi-fi.
After that, I tried on some beautiful hats that were the sort worn to weddings or to the Royal Enclosure at Ascot. They cost about 75 pounds each, but if I had the money, I probably would have bought one as I love hats and one can't find them in the States. As I had no money, though, I had to satisfy myself with a photograph. There is a Royal Ascot night on board the Queen Mary 2, by the way, so the hypothetical hat WOULD have had a practical use!
By that time, I had run out of time. We are given so few hours at each port. I had to find my way back to the free shuttle service thorugh a new open market that has sprung up like an army of mushrooms in the Bargate area sometime during the past forty years. They seem to exist throughout Europe, especially on Saturdays. Lots of stalls selling cheap tat and things like mobile phones, watch batteries, cheap clothing from China (not Chinese styles, but the usual hoodies and trousers found in all the Targets and K Marts and so on in the States) as well as stalls selling cheap awful sweets and doughtnuts. 'Maxi-doughnuts' were the focus of one of the stalls, with awful enormous huge greasy doughnuts that would be the ideal of Homer Simpson but would create a major health risk in any ordinary person.
For future visitors to Southampton West Quay, I recommend the Tudor House, the old Church of St. Michael (one of the oldest in England) and the Dolphin Hotel, where Jane Austen celebrated her 18th birthday. Beyond that, the 'Walk the City Walls' option is truly wonderful, with reproductions of old ships being repaired and other historical touches along the way. There are plaques that give information about each of the gates and towers as well.
Journal from 26 May:
Yesterday, the sea was as calm as glass, truly. It was beautiful but boring. An enormous pumpkin-coloured full moon at night compensated for the lack of drama during the day. The moonlight trail from the edge of the horizon to the ship was fabulous. How can one not believe that one could step out upon such a trail to walk towards the Goddess of the Hunt in all her glory?
The previous night, the moon was white and full and my first view of it from my bed was a wonderful surprise. I took many photographs, all of which look like nothing more than a tiny disk or hole in a dark blanket. Even so, perhaps they captured the memory a little.
This morning, a terrific contrast in the emotions of the waters. The waves are so high that they dash themselves against the very top of the portholes on Deck 2 where Mass is celebrated each morning in the Illuminations Theatre. It is rather a fitting location, as the backdrop is a map of the heavens with twinlking constellations and large bronze murals of celestial classical guardians of the sky are on either side of the stage.
At first I thought we had been cheated somewhat because the 'new' celebrant is not a real priest. He is a deacon, which means, inter alia, that he does not have the power to perform the magic of transforming the wafers into the Body of Christ. Instead, he brings a little plastic food container each morning and counts out the number of blessed Hosts needed to satisfy the audience. It is very disappointing, although he is a nicer man than the last priest, who was an important political and social figure in the EU and a Monsignor with a wicked tongue and the desire to humble any one who dared to exhibit any intellectual spark whatsoever. As a survivor of throat cancer, I think he was daring us to have faith that we would not become infected by others, because he served communion of BOTH kinds and we all were forced to imbibe of the Blood of Christ from a communal chalice. Was this the source of my terrible illness? I hope not, although I wouldn't be surprised. The ship was packed with people who hacked and sneezed and honked into hankerchiefs constantly. It could have been from the Chlice or from sharing a lift with any one of these contaminated elderly specimens, that I caught my awful cold.
I had bee attending Mass on a daily basis until I fell ill. After that, I did not appear in the Illuminations again until yesterday when the politically grand but rather sadistic Monsignor had disembarked and the deacon had taken his place.
At first I did not have high expectations when the third celebrant appeared, but I came to respect him greatly. Although married (as deacons are allowed to be), he appears to have devoted his life wholeheartedly to the service of God and the public. He is based in Dover where he has served the needs of all who come and go at the port for decades. A truly wonderful man, actually.
I do miss our first priest, Father Roger Stone, who was truly a GOOD man with a big heart and a humble disposition. He was delgithed to have been chosen but was given a very brief 'gig' as they put him off at Southampton after the short Transatlantic Crossing. I shall keep in touch with him, though. He was a wonderful, inspiring man.
The priests are considered to be part of the 'Entertainment Team' on Cunard which is bizarre in one sense but logical in another. I was a little surprised by the number of people who attend Mass on a daily basis, but I suppose that they, like me, find it more convenient than a trip to the local Church at home and like to commune more closely with God when they feel that their safety may be a lttle more precarious, thousands of miles out on the open sea. Whatever their motives, I know that for my part it has been very interesting to see how different the three 'celebrants' have been and how diverse the ritual of the Mass that each performs.
Enough of the Entertainment onboard the Queen Mary 2. You will have to speak to Jim if you wish to hear about the nightly shows or the Casino action. I retired to the stateroom each night after dinner and it has become increasingly difficult to it through the formal dining each night.
I enjoy the days at sea, frankly. When one is visiting ports, one is conscious of a terrible anxiety not to waste the few hours one is given to go ashore. Frustration at not having more time combined with endless queues and other bureaucratic nonsense, including heightened security measures (all of which are utter nonsense) make the port calls less than totally pleasant.
If I had not fallen ill, I would have had a better experience during the last week. As it was, my throat was so sore that I was unable to swallow or even take a glass of water without experiening great discomfort. I ended up sucking on ice cubes for a little relief. I did not go ashore at all at Hamburg on our second visit to that port, although I was determined to walk the streets of Southampton. By then, Jim had succumbed to the sore throat, although he never has as severe an illness as I or even Freya experience. It put him in a bad temper though and he returned to the ship early on our day at Southampton.
I walked the old city walls (well, not the battlements but on the ground below) and visited Tudor House and the Bargate. It was so different from the city I knew almost 40 years ago! Tudor House has become very high tech with interactive exhibits and so on. The garden, however, remains its glory and is a typical, glorious English garden in medieval style with all the old herbs and 'cottage garden' flowers.
I then walked to the City Centre and ducked into Debenham's where I had purchased my Royal Albert Breakfast Set and my first turntable in my firstr year at University.
They advertised free wi-fi so I spent my meagre amount of funds upon a cup of carrot soup in order to take advantage of the free internet. Alas, I discovered that the system was down! Really disappointing. The soup was too spicy and I never would have ordered it were it not for the promise of the wi-fi.
After that, I tried on some beautiful hats that were the sort worn to weddings or to the Royal Enclosure at Ascot. They cost about 75 pounds each, but if I had the money, I probably would have bought one as I love hats and one can't find them in the States. As I had no money, though, I had to satisfy myself with a photograph. There is a Royal Ascot night on board the Queen Mary 2, by the way, so the hypothetical hat WOULD have had a practical use!
By that time, I had run out of time. We are given so few hours at each port. I had to find my way back to the free shuttle service thorugh a new open market that has sprung up like an army of mushrooms in the Bargate area sometime during the past forty years. They seem to exist throughout Europe, especially on Saturdays. Lots of stalls selling cheap tat and things like mobile phones, watch batteries, cheap clothing from China (not Chinese styles, but the usual hoodies and trousers found in all the Targets and K Marts and so on in the States) as well as stalls selling cheap awful sweets and doughtnuts. 'Maxi-doughnuts' were the focus of one of the stalls, with awful enormous huge greasy doughnuts that would be the ideal of Homer Simpson but would create a major health risk in any ordinary person.
For future visitors to Southampton West Quay, I recommend the Tudor House, the old Church of St. Michael (one of the oldest in England) and the Dolphin Hotel, where Jane Austen celebrated her 18th birthday. Beyond that, the 'Walk the City Walls' option is truly wonderful, with reproductions of old ships being repaired and other historical touches along the way. There are plaques that give information about each of the gates and towers as well.
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Introduction to a Sea Voyage on Cunard
Introduction to a Sea Voyage...
We departed from the Cunard terminal in Brooklyn on 3 May 2013 at about 5.00 p.m., having embarked at noon. As with other cruises taken on a different line, our bags were not delivered until 7.00 p.m. Stupidly, I had packed all my bathing costumes so could not use the Hot Tub or any of the Pools. This is a view of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. It was only of the only views I had during our departure from New York as we had been given 'Early Seating' in the Britannia Restaurant at 6.00 p.m. each night and my companion rushed me to the table... In the circumstances, some good photographs of the New York skyline would have been worth more than the dinner which was not fantastic. The manu on Embarkation/Disembarkation Days tends to be less than superior.
The word 'Cruising' has become as popular in recent years as the activity which is now accessible to individuals from all walks of life and all economic situations. I had thought that Cunard would be one of the few lines to maintain the high standards of the Golden Years of ocean travel but I sadly was quite mistaken. First of all, Cunard has been purchased by Carnival and there is a policy of filling every berth at ANY price. One therefore has a large percentage of passengers who couldn't care less about the dress code or the historical background of the famed Transatlantic Crossing. What makes matters worse is that the staff is unwilling to chastise guests for their disregard of policies and in many cases, are not very familiar with Cunard policies. 90% of the members of staff I encountered on the Queen Mary 2 were new to Cunard and the ship and had not worked for more than three months! Evidently, Cunard cut costs by 'retiring' many of the experienced staff members who had served faithfully for decades, preferring to hire new people who, having no experience whatsoever and no seniority, could be paid the very minimum. As with other firms who have taken this perilous road, this policy is certain to backfire.
I spoke with a number of veteran Cunard guests, many of whom booked the Transatlantic Crossing on an annual basis and/or took World Voyages frequently. Sad to say, they will NOT be doing so in the future. For the most part, they were deeply disappointed with the 'new' face of Cunard and indeed, felt a sense of personal betrayal.
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