First Day Blues

Well I did it, got out of bed before midday even though it felt like the middle of the night, put on my work face and made it to the office on time. Granted my day wasn’t terribly productive thanks to all the emails I had to read through and two catch-up meetings I attended, but it felt good to know I was missed and my return to work is valued.

So why do I now feel so flat?

The feeling started when I pulled down my holiday itinerary from the office wall, was reinforced after being asked about my personal highlight of the seven week holiday (seriously?), and set in with vengeance after my second cup of coffee.

The amazing holiday we planned and saved for and counted down the days to is really over, so apart from reading through my journal and blog, and revisiting the amazing places and faces in my mind there is nothing else on the horizon for me apart from work, friends and family for the rest of the year.

Don’t get me wrong, I like working and love spending time with my family and friends but that doesn’t stop me scrutinising every cruise email and travel website and fantasizing about a life where I get to work while I travel.

To paraphrase a Slim Dusty song my husband plays, ‘looking forward, looking back, I’ve come a long way down the track, got a long way left to go … making sense of what I’ve seen …’

Leaning forward to see what’s coming, the anticipation and excitement of venturing into the unknown, for me that’s a happy high that’s hard to beat.

The Fog of Fatigue

Today is the day I am meant to have returned to work, but I have been forced to admit defeat and call in sick.

Admitting weakness is not a strength of mine, my usual approach is to soldier on no matter what, but today I simply could not face the day with focus and can guarantee I would have been a waste of space at my workplace.

The long journey home from Lisbon to Dubai, Dubai to Singapore, Singapore to Perth, in combination with the sad news immediately prior to our departure, was simply too much for my ‘middle aged’ mind to manage.

Amongst the many benefits of cruising is the fact that time is adjusted in increments by half an hour to an hour at most overnight, meaning that by the time we had cruised from Singapore to Southampton our body clocks were already adjusted to the local time when we arrived.

Flying from London to Porto was also cruisey as they are in the same timezone and the flight is short and sweet. Thankfully we also managed to avoid the stress and chaos caused by the pilot strikes so I have nothing but praise for the crew of the TAP Portugal flight we caught, and likewise the Alpha train from Porto to Aveiro.

Emirates were wonderfully accommodating, allowing our party of four to be seated together in an exit row on our first flight home and even to lay across a whole row each on our second. Sorry to say that never ever again will I settle for a cheap flight on Jetstar,our final flight home; definitely cattle class conditions in comparison.

I have received mixed advice from fellow Travellers about how best to overcome the fatigue fog that is overwhelming my brain right now. All I want to do is sleep and right now it feels like it will be at least a week before the fog lifts.

A Little Too Ironic

Like rain on your wedding day, ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife, nurturing a souvenir in your hand luggage only to break it at home.

Yes, really.

The Legend of the Cock, about a man from Galacia who appeared in Barcelos on his way to Santiago De Compostela in Spain to fulfill a vow, condemned to death by hanging despite protesting his innocence to committing a crime, pointed to a roasted cockerel and exclaimed:

“As sure as I am innocent that cockerel will crow if I am hanged!”

You can see where this is going, and why the rooster is so embelic of Portugal, and how it was so special to buy one from Barcelos, the home of the legend, and not any number of tourist shops and even a service station when we were there.

In my haste to tidy up after sharing my suitcase stories and souvenirs I managed to drop this little cock, straight onto our tiled floor, also ironic given the status of tiling to Portugal as well.

A little too ironic.
Not happy Jan.

Eternal Flame

Today is officially the last day of our holiday and it’s definitely going to be the most memorable thanks to the terrible horrible very bad news we received from home.

My husband’s grandmother, the matriarch of a large extended family I feel privileged to be a part of, passed away earlier today on the other side of the world from where we are right now.

Nana was the most wonderfully loving and generous person who loved nothing more than sharing memories of her life and the achievements of her clan. She joked that every year she lived beyond 60 was a miracle yet despite the myriad of health issues it was still a shock that she so suddenly passed away so close to her next milestone birthday.

Thinking of her brings tears to my eyes, because she fully accepted myself and my children as part of her extended family from the first day we met, without judgment or assumption. Too many other people I have met on my journey have not been so unconditional with their love and the light that shone so brightly from the top of the family tree will forever be a reminder to me to do the same.

Not a Boys Club

Today it is Mother’s Day in Europe and to celebrate Marias father ordered a roasted pig from the local cafe, where
while we were helping Marias mother with the weekly shop yesterday, her father took the boys.

This morning the four of us headed to the cafe to collect the pig and despite assurances to the contrary it was obviously a boys club. Along with coffee there was beer on tap and chilled port, with the chickens on a traditional Portuguese-style rotisserie in the back room filling the cafe with a delicious aroma.

A steady stream of male customers arrived to collect the freshly roasted chickens while we were there, stopping for a nip or two of their beverage of choice of course. As it turned out our pig was prepared off site and we had to wait for it to be delivered, so we were happy to bide our time with a nip or two ourselves.

Yesterday when we returned from shopping with chickens for lunch, Marias father groaned and sighed but the boys refused to reveal what they had consumed apart from coffee so were forced to help polish off the meal prepared by her mother.

Based on the friendliness and familiarity of the customers with the boys this morning they enjoyed quite a few ports and chicken fresh from the rotisserie at the local cafe and would be happy to join them for ‘coffee’ there every day.

Old Habits

Despite the tap water in Portugal being perfectly palatable, old habits die hard for some which is how we ended up driving around the outskirts of Aveiro yesterday with a boot full of empty water bottles and only a vague idea of the location of a local font.

With Mother Maria in the back seat giving directions in Portuguese, and after stopping three times to ask locals for directions and close to an hour of driving we located Fonte Da Guia and proceeded to refill twenty five-litre plastic bottles with water from the local spring.

Conveniently located at the rear of a local church the water gushing out of a number of outlets was cool and clear but the sceptic in me could not help but be wary of the source and it’s properties.
Apparently this is a ritual the elders of Portugal refuse to give up, perhaps they have faith in it’s healing properties or they are reluctant to pay for what is freely available.

Given how much we pay for bottled spring water at home perhaps there is a lesson in there for all of us?

A Sacred Sojourn

A sacred destination for more than four million visitors a year, Fatima is an absolute must see for anyone planning a visit to Portugal.

A pleasant hour and a half drive from our ‘home’ in Ilhavo, we planned our visit for the 1st of May after an overnight stay in Nazare.

Pilgrims from all over the world are drawn to the Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima by the apparitions of the Virgin Mary reported by three local shepherd children on the 13th of each month from May to October 1917. They arrive throughout the year, but especially in Summer and on the feast days of May 13 and October 13.

The open air Chapel of Apparitions, built on the site of the appearances, is approached by pilgrims on their knees in penance. Unfortunately the Basilica of Our Lady of Fatima was closed due to restoration work in progress on the day we visited, but we did arrive in time to see a service inside the newest church on the site, holding at least a thousand people.

A family friend of our host Maria makes the three days two nights pilgrimage from Ilhavo to Fatima in August every year, walking during the day and camping at night.

I admit to being skeptical of the blind faith in the fantasy of religion, but having been witness to the emotions and devotion of the people present on the day we visited I leave truly humbled by the experience and can only imagine how it would feel to attend on one of the feast days.

The Weighing Game

As wonderful as it is to have the opportunity to take time off from life to explore, the biggest lesson I am learning on my travels is about weight.
Along with the kilos creeping onto my body are the extra kilos stealthily adding bulk to my baggage.

This morning I had to admit defeat and leave behind the 1 bottle of Drambui I purchased in Malta to make my own Rusty Nail cocktails because it adds too many unnecessary kilos to my luggage.
I know, what was I thinking?

Same story for the full size bottle of coconut butter moisturiser from Dubai, as delicious as it makes me smell it has to go. And all the lovely formal wear, jewellery and accessories from the cruise taking up space are making me mad every time I open my case.
And as for my shoes ….

Of course this is only an issue because after we scrimp and save we baulk at the business class fares with all their perks and choose to spend our extra funds on enjoying our time away.

In hindsight we should have checked the fine print when we booked our flight from Gatwick to Portugal and paid a little more for the luggage but it’s too late now.

Cheers to the lucky recipient of my excess baggage!

A very pleasant detour

When planning how to spend our time in the UK after the end of the cruise, our only definite was the need to be at Gatwick airport by Sunday. Hiring a car to move ourselves and our luggage around seemed logical, and allowing time to stop and admire the scenery my personal priority.

Little did we know that a random conversation with a couple at the next table one night on the cruise would result in a memorable night on the Isle of Wight?

Ian Sherfield, retired magistrate, his wife Angela and adult son Edward joined our circle of friends on board Arcadia and insisted we accept their invitation to travel to and explore their home.

Home for the Sherfields is Buckbury Farm, a ten acre property in Newport on the Isle of Wight they share with their three adult children, five dogs and two cats. A pleasant ferry ride from Southampton, the Isle of Wight is famous for hosting one of Jimi Hendricks most memorable outdoor performances and for our party of four a very pleasant detour.

After a ploughmans lunch Ian took us on an insiders tour of the sights including Fort Victoria, named after the Queen and the Cowes Royal Yacht Squadron where all the major sailing events are based. Unfortunately our viewing of the scenery was hindered by the mist rolling in from the sea, but our host more than compensated with his commentary.

Back to Buckbury Farm for afternoon tea before we headed to the accommodation recommended by our hosts, The Waverley Inn. Quaint and Cosy but definitely not quiet thanks to it being karaoke night in the bar below our rooms, we were happy to head out for dinner to The Wight Mouse with our hosts an hour after checking in.

After a delicious dinner and placing second in the pub quiz, we returned to Buckbury Farm for coffee and cake before Ian took us back to our accommodation to settle in for the night.

Breakfast in the front bar then back to the Red Funnel for the return ferry to the mainland, where our tentative plan is to be in Bath by the end of the day.
How that pans out remains to be seen, but as they say it’s the journey not the destination that counts.

Adieu Arcadia

Our last two days at sea before we leave Arcadia in Southampton, and I can honestly say I am ready to leave and start the next phase of our journey.

Highlights of the past four weeks have included our amazing port stops and sea transits especially the opportunity to visit Petra, cruise the Suez and see the Rock of Gibraltar, as well as witnessing Greg lose his tie to the world’s greatest pickpocket, meeting Tim from Bargain Hunt and the new friendships we have formed.

Our cabin was in a great location and I love the full size bath, but not the creaks and crackles that kept me awake. Overall the entertainment and food was bland compared to previous cruises, but the free laundrette and being allowed to bring unlimited alcohol on board for in cabin consumption has definitely saved us a lot of expense.

The dreaded Arcadia cough has done the rounds and hit Greg with vengeance over the past few days so I definitely won’t miss the cough chorus all over the ship including our cabin.

Tonight is our last black tie evening with the Captain’s farewell party. Fingers crossed the heavy seas won’t dampen our spirits too much, especially poor Maria who started to feel the effects yesterday and chose to lay low today in lieu of attendance at Zumba.

Thanks P&O for a memorable journey, highly recommended for anyone seeking the simple life at sea.