Today we spent our last day at sea.

It's been a busy day, partly spent packing (far easier at the end of a cruise than at the start; you just kind of throw everything willy-nilly into the suitcase and squish it down as best you can), partly spent playing Scrabble, and partly spent hosting our grand end-of-tour art exhibition.

I played two games of Scrabble with Moyra in the Library, just before lunch; lost the first and won the second (mostly on a very fortuitous turn, where I was able to drop QUIZ on a triple-word square, where the Z was also on a Triple-letter square, making it a whopping 96 in one drop).

After lunch I made my way to the area just outside The Neptune Lounge, armed with almost 100 paintings and only a small amount of blue-tack, hoping that there'd be enough to do the job. I was kicking myself because, before coming away, I debated whether or not to take a huge wad of my own blue-tack with me, knowing how these thing often panned out, and didn't - ah well.

My eager students turned out to help with the 'hanging', and by 3 o'clock, we were ready to roll; and what a turnout!! The room was thronged with people for the whole hour. I looked on with pride as their fellow passengers cooed over the work on display. It looked absolutely terrific, as I knew it would - believe me; when you get all those paintings together, whatever the ability (and there was a huge variation in ability), they look great.... I looked at the mass of people gazing on and thought, fleetingly, how nice it would be to have that sort of turnout at my own exhibitions. Anyway; the feedback was remarkably good, and so I thought; My work is done here....

One last piece of work  needs to be done. The Cruise Director decided that there should be some certificates handed out to some of the students in recognition of particularly outstanding work. He's had six printed up, and I had to select which 6 should be the recipients (I drafted in the help of Peter Roach for some completely independent input), which wasn't an easy task (and one which I'm a little uncomfortable with, but am happy to participate in). Before both shows tonight, I will be awarding the certificates to the lucky students, up on stage - woo hoooo! I get to go up on stage!!

And so, with our impending arrival at Portsmouth expected to be around 3:30 tomorrow morning, the cruise comes to an end. Suitcases have to placed outside cabins before we go to bed, and they'll be collected and transferred to the terminal for when we disembark. Cabins have to be vacated by 8am in the morning, after which, folks will be sat around in the lounges waiting for their turn to leave the ship. I expect to be off at about 10am, then I have a 5 hour drive North...

It's been an enjoyable 3 weeks. I've visited some great places, and take home lots of memories. It's always great to go away, but it's equally great to come home....

I'm in severe need of a haircut (I had considered asking in the Beauty Salon on board ship, but figured they'd probably charge per hair), some decent beer, and some fast, cheap broadband...

Since this is likely to be my last post for this cruise, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has read my inane ramblings and meanderings (I know from the statistics that there are quite a lot of you out there) and in particular to those who have contributed to the blog with their comments.

Tomorrow, it's back to reality, and back to work....

 

Early on in the cruise, I reported a success at the evening Lido Quiz. Well, I'm pleased to be able to announce yet another victory - Woo Hooooooo!!!!!!

Since winning weeks ago (almost three, can you believe it?), I've only attended the quiz on several occasions. Once, the other night, I joined up with a couple of the entertainers for a laugh. We didn't win, but even if we had have done, rules stipulate that we would not be allowed to claim a prize (only passengers are allowed to win the coveted bottle of bubbly). Last night, my two earlier quiz team-mates turned up again, and we won said prize, in the 'Chocolate' Quiz, after two nail-biting tie-breaks, much to the annoyance of one of the teams that, by all accounts have been systematically winning the morning, afternoon and evening quiz at a fearsome rate. Which makes the victory all the more sweeter. Of course, as before, I keep a very low profile when the winning team is revealed, but will be sharing the booty this evening (after the bottle has had a whole night's chilling), when we will try to win once again.

The Bay of Biscay is choppy, and the ship is rolling about quite a bit, but as the Captain predicted; it isn't half as bad as it could be. Today, in his noon-address from the Navigational Bridge, he did something which he has repeatedly done several times over the cruise. Several times, he has said to us that there are dolphins to be seen from the Port side, or the Starboard side, and loads of people dutifully dash from whatever it is that they're doing, wherever they are, in the hope of catching a glimpse of these elusive natives. Time and time again, they're disappointed. What the Captain probably should say is; in about 10 minutes, we'll be passing a load of dolphins, which gives people time to arrange themselves into position out on deck. By the time most people have got to the deck, the dolphins are long gone.

Today, he announced, quite noncholantly, that there was a young whale off to the port side. I was at that moment sat playing Spider Solitaire on my laptop and debated whether or not I could be bothered to fly out of my cabin and climb the three flights of stairs to the Atlantic Deck only to be disappointed yet again. Needless to say, I abandoned the laptop and flew upstairs.... and saw it once... only briefly, but enough to be able to declare that I saw it... it's body just broke the surface of the choppy seas and blew out a spout of water before disappearing below the waves again. I tried ever so hard not to be smug as several other passengers emerged after me, peering out at the sea in the hope of catching a glimpse.

As well as playing Spider Solitaire, I sat in on Peter Roach's lecture this morning on nautical terms that have worked their way into everyday language. The rest of my morning was spent finishing off my 'Gondolas in Venice' painting in time for this afternoon's workshop. I've promised them a finishing-off day today; an opportunity to tidy up the paintings that they've been working on over the course of the cruise in time for tomorrow's big Exhibition. I'll be giving them a short lecture on painting simple figures (think carrots), and trying very hard to sell them the last few of my remaining DVDs and book.

This evening is a Formal evening, so I'll be bringing out the Dinner suit for one last time. As well drinking the winnings from last night's quiz victory in the Lido Lounge, showtime will be one of the great highlights of the cruise calendar; The Crew Show. This is where members of the crew, who will have been practising at all hours of the morning below decks will demonstrate just what a talented bunch they are. This afternoon, too, is the Passenger Talent Show, so I may just give that a brief look-in after my workshop, if I have the time.

At Venice, I'd been sat at a table at lunchtime, with several new passengers who had joined us from the Orient Express, one of whom is a very nice (and quite posh) lady travelling with her sister, who she complained would not play Scrabble with her, and that she rather longed for a game. I told her I'd be more than happy to indulge in a game of Scrabble with her if we could find a suitable time to do it (boxes of Scrabble, along with an assortment of other board games, are stored in the Library). Today, I bumped into her and agreed to meet her for a game tomorrow morning at 11am - so that's my Sunday morning sorted.....

"Hi, Rebecca?. It's Peter, on Tour 2B; Sintra and Cascais..... yes.... um.... we've lost someone...."

It was windy and cold when we arrived alongside the dock in Lisbon this morning. As predicted by the Captain, the delays suffered with the strong headwind and heavy swells meant we were much later arriving than planned; it was 11am.

Because of this, all tours had been rescheduled to the afternoon, with the one I was on moved to a 1pm departure.

Despite the Cruise Director's assurance yesterday that lunchtime would be moved forward by an hour to allow those booked on tours to eat, they weren't, and so the Secret Garden Cafe was mayhem, with folks anxious to be fed before picking up their tickets in the Neptune Lounge.

I would say that Portugal wasn't looking it's best today. The guide on our bus told us that they'd had some wonderful weather right up until the beginning of this week, when the temperature dropped and had turned cold (you want to try living in Britain, love). As we drove along, pausing briefly to look at one of Portugal's biggest surfing beaches (which was nigh on deserted but for a few die-hards), the weather deteriorated, and by the time time we arrived at Cascais (pronounced Cash-Cay-Yeees), it was raining.

One of the the items on a tour itinerary that a tour escort most fears is 'free-time'. At Cascais, our guide told us that we were getting off the bus and everyone would have free time, to wander as they wished, and to meet back at the bus at 2:50pm.

Everybody seemed to disembark wondering quite how they were going to spend their 45 minutes. Cascais isn't an unattractive place, but then there doesn't seem to be a huge amount to do, or look at; less so with the rain coming down as it was. Some people huddled in shop doorways, others bought umbrellas, cafes beckoned for our custom...

I happened upon a place described as an 'Irish Pub', in which I could see a couple I knew from the bus sat at a table having a drink. Hm...I thought.... Guiness..... So I whiled away the remainder of my free-time with this nice couple with said stout until it was time to head back to the coach.

We'd set out from Lisbon with 26 passengers on board. At 10 to 3, when we thought everyone was back, and both the guide and myself did a head-count... we had 25. Both the guide, myself and the driver checked around outside to see if there was anyone waiting around or looking lost; I asked if anyone knew who the missing passenger was; no-one seemed to know exactly. The only description I could get was that he was elderly (but not doddery), wore a baseball cap, smoked a pipe and liked a drink.

By 3:15, everyone was starting to worry, and the likelyhood of our missing passenger turning up started to look increasingly unlikely. Our guide, Ju, went walkabout again and I called it in on my mobile phone, to Rebecca, the Shore Exursions Manager. The guide had insisted that we should press on, short of one passenger, because that was the instruction given to her by her employers. Rebecca, when I finally got hold of her, told me that the rules are very clear; guides should only have to wait a maximum of 10 minutes past an appointed meeting time before continuing with a tour; ours had waited 30 minutes. Quite simply put; it is the responsibility of passengers to make sure that they are back on a bus at the appointed time - if they fail in that, then the tour leaves without them (same goes for the ship).

Everybody was asked to write their name and cabin on a sheet of paper, so that the missing passenger could be identified by a process of elimination when we got back to the ship.

So, the tour continued regardless...

Our next stop, Sintra, is a lovely little village, which seemed all the more inviting now that the rain had finally ceased. It boasts old Moorish architecture and a load of tiny little streets with interesting shops and galleries. Personally, I always find the portugese pottery a little on the garish side. They also go in for lots of ceramic tiles, many of which adorn the outside of buildings.

Another worry as the afternoon progressed was the time factor. Shore-leave for passengers was due to end at 5:15, ready to sail at 6pm. By the time we finally arrived back at the quayside, it was 5:40, the Boudicca's big red funnel was chugging out smoke as it built up a head of steam... we were the last on board ship.

As the gangplank was taken away and the Boudicca  left Lisbon, to head for Portsmouth, the missing passnger remains a bit of a mystery. It seems that no-one is missing; a name and cabin number would have been announced over the PA system, asking that person to please report to reception. No such announcement was made. Whoever it was that missed the bus must have made their way own back to the Boudicca. It's quite possible, of course, that when we arrived in Cascais, with the weather as manky as it was, that the passenger took themselves straight to a taxi rank and headed back to ship without so much as a second glance at Cascais. Who knows?

And so begins the very last leg of our 3-week journey, with just two days sailing to bring us to Portsmouth, where we are due to arrive early Monday morning. The Captain has told us that the weather in our forthcoming passage of the Bay of Biscay should hopefully not be too bad. The forcast is very changeable, though, and he warned us that we might expect a bit of a swell similar to last night (I woke at about 3am this morning feeling like we were on some sort of giant rollercoaster). Fingers crossed....

A little incident today reminded me of just how gracious and utterly charming some people can be. After a late start this morning (I got into some video editting last night which kept me up until almost midnight), I only just made breakfast, which finishes at 9:30 and spent most of the morning on online business and preparing for this afternoon's workshop. After lunch, I decided what I really fancied was to find a quiet spot somewhere to read my book for an hour.

Peter Roach had recommended the upper deck, by the golf-practise nets, as being out of the wind and quite pleasant in the fresh air and sun, but when I got there, I found it far too windy, despite moving around in search of a sheltered spot, it was too stressful, so I headed for the Lido Lounge. Unfortunately, the Lido Lounge had piped music playing (even though there was no-one there to listen to it), and I couldn't concentrate; I found I was reading the same line over and over again, to the tune of Robbie Willams singinging 'Angels'.

I shifted out into the long lounge that connects the main stairwell to the Lido, which was occupied by just a few passengers who also were reading, and several who were snoring. Unfortunately, amongst these other passengers were an elderly couple playing Scrabble. Now I've never really thought of Scrabble as being a particularly noisy game, but this couple succeeded spectacularly. Every time he placed tiles on the board she had a right old go at him, either ordering him to speed up a bit, or chiding him for putting down a stupid word. She talked incessantly, and at high volumne, at one point ordering the poor old geezer to wake up and take some tiles. I stuck this for about 5 minutes before upping and heading for the Library.

Now it has to be said that there are specific rules applied to the library, as with other parts of the ship. For instance; out on deck, it is expressly forbidden for anyone to reserve sun-loungers by leaving towels and personal belongings on them while they go for lunch. In the Library, the same rules apply to the very precious armchairs that look out over the ocean. The Library is a quiet place, where folks can help themselves to the books on the shelves or avail themselves of the few tables there to work on laptops  or read their own books. At this particular time of day, it wasn't very heavily populated. Many people lay with books open on their knees, heads back and snoring or dribbling....

I spotted a quiet-looking corner that fitted my agenda perfectly. Out of four armchairs, only one was occupied, by a lady who had also succumbed to sleep, her book fallen open on her knee. Two other chairs, placed opposite each other with a small table between then were unoccupied. On the table was a paperback book and a magazine. I looked around and decided that these two chairs must be free, the books abandonded, as many people seem to do, so I settled down to read....

I reckon I'd been sitting there, blissfully, for about 25 minutes before two large ladies approached. One loomed over me, blotting out all available light, and announced, with a very big plum in her mouth, "I'll have my seat back now". I looked up, quite astonished at her rudeness, shaking my head, and said "Oh, I'm sorry; didn't realise it had your name on it...". But the perfume-soaked grizzly bear wasn't budging, and I wasn't going to let the moment descent into an argument because I'd be the one losing out and having a complaint made against me. She was pointing to the only other free chair in that corner, saying "you  can have that one..." I got to my feet, glared at her and walked off. What annoyed me most was hearing her behind me saying "Oh, some people are soooo rude!"

Quite seething, I wandered back to the Lido pre-lounge and read for the last of my available 10 minutes to the sound of Mr & Mrs Agro-Scrabble.

This afternoon, we passed Gibraltar. Unfortunately, we are currently fighting a 50mph head-wind and a heavy swell which is holding us back somewhat, and so instead of passing the Rock at 2pm as promised, we passed it at 3:30pm - bang in the middle of my workshop!

The headwind and slow progress has had another knock-on effect. As I predicted, I have been offered tour-escorting duty tomorrow; a Panoramic tour to Sintra and somewhere else I can't remember the name of. Unfortunately, the captain has just announced that instead of the planned arrival time of 7am in Lisbon tomorrow morning, because of the delays, we are currently not expecting to pick up the pilot until 10:30am, to be free to leave the ship at about 11:30. This has rather upset all the shore excursions, so everyone is now waiting to see how these might be rescheduled... if at all.

It's a wild, wet, windy, and all round rough old day day out there today. The deck has been closed off due to high winds, so everybody has had to make the best of the on-board entertainment. And what a full day's entertainment it has been.

This morning, I actually managed to sit in on one of Peter Roach's lectures, about his crossing of the Atlantic in a small boat, which was really quite compelling and very personal, from a bloke who has had a passion for boats and sailing all his life; very entertaining!

Then came The Boudicca's version of 'Can't Cook. Won't Cook', with the head chef putting our resident comedian, Barnaby and one of the singers, Kate, through their paces. This was a huge draw for many passengers, just before lunch: very funny to watch, and all very entertaining!

After lunch, I gave a workshop in which I had them painting a serene boat picture, which they all seemed to enjoy. Our exhibition looms (Sunday) and I think they're all getting a bit nervous - not too nervous to give up their paintings, though, I hope!

After my workshop, I dashed up to the Neptune Lounge to catch the last half of a classical piano recital, given by our resident classical pianist for this cruise; Mina. As she rattled her way dexterously through some gregarious Grieg and rivetting Rachmaninov, the only sound you could here in the room was the occasional coughing and spluttering of the our gradually deteriorating passenegers.

The captain's midday report from the bridge today gave us an update on the virus situation. He confessed that the story had managed to find its way out into the wild world, but eagerly dispelled the myth that had been perpetuated by the over-eager press that we'd had to beg and grovel our way into the ports of Dubrovnik and Tunis (see all the main daily papers for the full story apparently...). All I know is that there are now approximately 30 cabins (how I know this is classified) with confined guests in them, and a little bird has told me that two of those guests are dance hosts. Now; I hope that they're not too ill or uncomfortable, and wish them a speedy recovery, but on a purely personal, and slightly selfish note; both said hosts have been top of Madam Shore Excursion's A-list for escort duty throughout the cruise, with them and the photographer getting the prime pick of the tours on offer at more or less every port we've been to; maybe this means I'll get a tour in Lisbon....

Tonight it's British Night, where everyone dresses up in Red, White & Blue (or is that Red, White OR Blue - I'm not sure since I've seen slightly conflicting information). Either way, I'll be sporting my bright red Madeira T-shirt and enjoying the evening's entertainment (Barnaraby, the comedian is doing another show tonight) in as British a way as possible.

We have another Sea-day coming up tomorrow as we sail towards Lisbon, where we are due to arrive on Friday morning. The Captain has told us that we can expect to be passing through the Straits of Gibraltar at about 2pm in the afternoon, which is quite useful because it shouldn't clash with my class at 3pm. Hopefully it'll be a bit more impressive than the last time....

Today we visited Tunisia.

Despite my previous ruminations over how I might possibly spend the day, I realised almost as soon as we got there that the logistical nightmare of trying to find train, bus or taxi to make a solo visit to Carthage was almost insurmountable.

Our berth today was in an area known as La Goulette, which is a spurr of land to the North of Tunis, rather isolated and limiting in terms of where one might walk freely, so, reluctantly, I paid my £5 to allow me to use the shuttle bus which would take me to Tunis, approximately 8kms away (not sure what that is in miles, but it felt like a long way).

As I got on the bus, who should be there but my new friend, Peter Roach, one of the guest speakers, and two other guest lecturers, all moaning and chuntering about the fact that, despite the Cruise Director announcing that over half the passengers were going out on tours today, once again there seemed to be a shortage of Tour Escort duties handed out.

Trust me to choose the shuttle bus that gets hijacked!

Right from the off, there was a strange fez-wearing bloke who jumped on the bus, who proceeded to act like he was some sort of guide. Bearing in mind that this was meant to be one of several shuttle buses laid on for independant travellers to get into Tunis and travel back in their own time (provided we were back for 4:15pm), you can imagine the confusion when the bus pulled up and Mr Fez started to insist that we all stay together and follow him. People started asking questions like "where are we on the map?" (everybody is issued with a free city map), and "is this where we are going to be picked up from?". Mr Fez became strangely defensive and not very helpful, insisting that we follow him; he would take us around the Souks and the Medina (and presumeably foist upon us his brother's rug shop, his uncle's perfume shop and anyone else who he has a bit of a deal with). This confusion seemed to split the group of passengers into two halves; those who were intent on not following Mr Fez and those who were quite happy to, blindly, follow him wherever he might lead.

Peter Roach speaks excellent French, which is spoken widely in Tunis, for some reason, so he leapt right in, demanding to know whereabouts on the map we were and where the pickup point was. It seemed the driver wasn't too happy with the situation, either, since he had also apparently fallen out with Mr Fez, but was also reluctant to divulge information.

After much gesticulating, and raising of voices, the lambs happily followed our hijacker into the Souks, whilst the rest of us started walking...

Needless to say; we did find where the pickup point was; it was actually just a short way up from where we'd been dropped off, near a square, so all was well. I stayed with Peter for a short time, until we stopped in a rug shop, where he proceeded to buy a rug which he would have shipped back to the UK. Amidst lots of French chit-chat which left me feeling a bit of a spare whatsit at a wedding, I excused myself and went off wandering by myself.

The souks are a rabbit-warren of narrow, twisting alleyways, chock-a-block with market stalls. They are an assault on the senses, with their myriad of colours and smells, and a constant, heaving throng of people. As with all markets, there is a constant barrage of calls to take notice and part with your money; here, though, it seemed more intense somehow, and I must confess I found it all a little claustrophobic.

Having traversed the souks, the relief of coming across another open square; La Port De France (The French Connection again), was tangible. Here, I explored the Cathedral, and wandered a few streets before deciding I'd pretty much seen enough. I would have to pass through the souks again to get back to the pickup point, so I took a deep breath and waded on in....

By the time I reached the pickup point and found the shuttle that would take me back to the ship, I'd had enough. the hassling starts to get to you after a while. One chap tried his damnedest to befriend me, insisting that he knew me from the ship this morning (yeah right), and that he worked at La Goulette (sure - good guess - it's where all the ship's berth). He kept asking me where I was from, and when I relented and told him the UK, he asked whereabouts in the UK? I asked him how well he knew the UK, and he said he has a brother in Liverpool.... and so on, and so on... Of course, he had an adgenda; several times, I thought I'd managed to shake him off by hanging back and deliberately getting caught up in the crowds, only to discover him leaping out of a market stall, from where he had been waiting for me. He chattered on incessantly, finally getting to his point; he wanted to show me where I could buy Chanel perfumes at a fraction of the prices you would pay anywhere else in the world. I told him that I didn't want a guide, to which he took exception, and then I told him that I had no money - I wasn't there to spend money... at which point, he disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

We've now left Tunisia and are heading towards our final destination; Lisbon, Portugal, where we are due to arrive on Friday morning.

The captain has warned us of some heavy winds in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea which are likely to have us listing slightly, and has updated us on the virus, which despite having claimed several more cases today, he is happy that we have it all under control, providing everyone remains vigilant...

Today has been a sea day, as we sail towards out penultimate port destination, Tunis, in Tunisia.

I have to say, it's been a bit of a funny old day for me. Last night, I was as sick as a dog. I'd gone back to my cabin at about 5pm, and by 6pm, I'd become light headed and felt quite poorly. Needless to say, without giving you all the gory details, vomiting and diarharrea (I'm almost sure that isn't how you spell it) ensued. I spent the next 15 hours in bed, rising only to visit the bathroom and clear out a little bit more of whatever it was that was upsetting me...

Now, herein lay a dilemma for me. At what point should I call the medical centre? Or at the very least, the Cruise Director? The ship's instructions were quite clear; anyone experiencing D or V should call the med centre, from where a doctor would come out to your cabin and see to you. Furthermore; anyone found to have the norovirus would be confined to their cabin until the symptoms had cleared, and a further 48 hours after that. Realising that this would almost certainly scupper my next two workshops and any shore visit to Tunisia, I decided I would wait until the morning to see if I was any worse (I'd only been physically sick twice, and the rest was... well... you can guess).

I read again the leaflet we'd been issued telling us about the symptoms we should look out for, which included vomitting and diarr... diarh.. the squits; stomach cramps, headache and a light fever. Well, apart from the first two, I figured I wasn't displaying any of the other signs, so the chances are it wasn't gastroenteritis; I reckoned I would be feeling a lot more poorly if I had that. It was more likely, I reasoned, that it was something I'd ate. Not only that; we've been bombarded with an advertisement on the cabin TV, telling us all about how the virus is carried, and what with the a bit of a rough sea, I was probably suffering from a mild sea-sickness....

The good news is that by morning, I was feeling much better. I walked 5 laps around the ship and tentatively headed for the Secret Garden Cafe for a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice (thinking; I hope it stays down....).

I've been mega-tired all day, but am sticking to my prognosis that I'm not suffering from gastroenteritis. Running this afternoon's workshop was also going to be a potential weak point in my assessment of my health; could I get through the class without embarrassing myself or having to dash off to the loos mid-brushstroke? Of course I could! Noooo problem...

Tonight is another formal night, and the show is a swinging-60s-sensational-70s extravanganza, so I'll give it a go. I only had a very light salad at lunchtime (again, tentatively), so I would just have to choose my dinner carefully - nothing too spicy, or greasy..

Tomorrow we arrive in Tunisia. Again, I haven't been given a tour, so I'm not entirely sure what my options are going to be; it rather depends upon where the ship is berthed. I'm interested in the ancient Roman city of Carthege, which would require taxi-ride (maybe I could see if my new friend Peter Roach would like to share the fare); likewise, a visit to Tatooine (Luke Skywalker's home in Star Wars); failing all that, I'll be happy to meander through the Souks of Tunis if that seems like the easier option.

I just hope for a better night....

By the way; apparently we've been mentioned in the Daily Express, so the story's out... not guilty!

What little I know of Croatia would barely fill the back of a postage stamp (and that would be using large writing). I know that they are energetic and enthusiastic participants in the Eurovision Song Contest, and that their national football team is quite good; at least they've beat England a couple of times (not that that's difficult). And it's not so long ago that they had a bit of a tiff with their Serbian neighbours. I also know that it rains in Croatia.

Today, we arrived in Dubrovnik, and it rained. Not just light, drizzly rain, but serious rain of the very British kind, accompanied by a keen, cold wind. From where we were berthed, it is 3Km to the Old Town, so I opted to walk it, partly because I figured the exercise and fresh air would do me good, but mainly because I refuse to pay the £5 shuttle-bus fee.

On my way, I happened to bump into Peter Roach, one of the other guest speakers, again, so we walked the rest of the distance and meandered around the Old Town together.

And still it rained...

It's a bit of a shame about the rain, because Dubrovnik Old Town is a beautiful, and quite captivating, place. Since there were at least 2 other large cruise ships anchored out in the harbour (we were originally going to be anchored out there too, with passengers having to come ashore by tender, but we apparently managed to bag a shore-side berth at the last minute), there was no shortage of visitors. Dubrovnik Old Town is surrounded by a pretty impressive city wall along the top of which you can walk, and once you get within the walls, it gets better; tiny streets on all levels, joined by lots of steps and lit by ornate street lights. The main drag through the town was absolutely thronged with tourists, all wielding umbrellas and fighting against the wind. Being Sunday, there were services going on within the Cathedral and the churches, but it didn't stop all the touristy gift shops being open.

Just outside the town, the land rises sharply and steeply, to rocky buttresses high above, and it is from here, less than 15 years ago (but I'm happy to be corrected on that, if anyone knows the full story), that the Serbs lobbed shells down upon the town. Shrapnel damage and roof damage is apparent everywhere you look, and I couldn't help thinking; why would anyone want to destroy such a beautiful place?

By the time I'd returned to the ship, I looked like a drowned rat. My feet squelched in my shoes and my hair stuck to my head in streaks, but it was well worth the walk!

If anybody needed proof of the seriousness of our on-board norovirus problem, they would only have had to take a look in at Breakfast in the Secret Garden Cafe this morning. With hygiene issues currently on high alert, nobody is allowed to touch anything, and antibacterial hand-squirters have doubled overnight. Where as normally, I would saunter in, help myself to a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice, maybe have a cup of tea (urgh), then be on my way, now I find I, along with everyone else, have to queue and wait for a waiter to do everything for me (I'm surprised he doesn't eat it for me). Needless to say, tempers were starting to fray a little over breakfast. Although people, I'm sure, realise the importance of why things have to be done this way, to prevent the situation getting worse, they don't seem to appreciate losing some of their basic freedoms. At one point, there was a little explosive interchange between a bloke and a woman. As far as anyone can tell, she accidentally stood on his toes whilst waiting in a queue, and he just went ballistic at her. Not quietly, but very loudly, and in the most viscious, inappropriate way possible. He turned on her and hurled a string of abuse at her, swearing and calling her all manner of quite nasty things which I couldn't possibly repeat here. The thing is; he couldn't have chosen a worse moment to have his little hissy-fit, for at that very moment, who should be passing the entrance to the Secret Garden Cafe but the Captain himself, who witnessed the whole event. I don't know if there have been any repercussions from the event, but I wouldn't be surprised if the gentleman in question hasn't been politely shown the door. Kicking off in an aggressive manner like that is just not appropriate on a ship; to do it in front of the Captain, who has the power to kick you off if he deems you a bad apple (he is the boss-man, afterall), seems little short of stupidity. If I hear anything I'll keep you posted.

Just a quick thanks, by the way, to all of you who are adding comments to the blog. They are very welcome, and I'm enjoying them very much. I'd just like to apologise if I don't get around to responding to every one; I like to try to, if time, and internet access, allows, but I know occasionally the odd one slips through.

Tomorrow, we leave Dubrovnik and head towards La Goulette, which is just slightly to the North of Tunis, in Tunisia. Hopefully the weather will be a bit warmer there. It's a two-day sail, so I have two workshops to fit in. The Cruise Director is talking of making a really big event out of our end-of-cruise exhibition, with himself and the captain choosing a few winners and handing out a few prizes from the work exhibited. I'm slightly nervous about this, since it's hard enough trying to get work out of people to hang in the show, without laying extra pressure on them thinking they're going to be judged. I've always preferred the slightly more low-key affair, so we'll see...

After my exciting morning in Venice, the afternoon loomed before me without much in the way of direction. After lunch I sat out on deck, alternating between reading a book and dozing in the sun, which by now was quite hot and mediterranean-like again (hurraah!). After some time, I went back to my cabin to download my morning's video and photographs from camera to laptop, and idly switched the in-house movie-channel on the TV. 'Changeling' again.... ah well, best just settle down to a movie to pass the time....

Then the cabin phone rang.....

It was reception, saying that a whole bunch of people were in the Heligan Room asking where I was.....

"?????" Said I, but.... surely, it's a port-day; I only do workshops on sea-days... The lady in reception assured me that an art class was in the daily blurb, so I grabbed my copy and... there it was in black and white... ooops!. It was five minutes past three (the class should have started at 3), so I told her, I'd be up there immediately....

I crept into the Heligan Room to an almighty cheer from my students, who had all dutifully sorted themselves out with boards and water and were waiting patiently for their tutor. Thank goodness I'd been in my cabin when the call had come an not been fast asleep on deck!

The other news is; we have some cases of a gastro (or noro) virus on board. Just after lunch, the captain came over the speakers and explained that the health status of the vessel has been put up to Code Red, the highest level, and that this will make a few differences to the way some things operated, particularly in the feeding areas. There are currently about a dozen people confined to their cabins, and efforts are being made to contain the outbreak. Oo-er... watch this space...

It's not often you get a second bite of the cherry on a cruise. Ports come and go, and those that make a particular impression are often mentally filed under 'Places I'd Like To Go Back To Someday'. Stays can sometimes be frustratingly short, and interesting places deserve more exploration time.

So, it was with great anticipation that I bounded out of bed to the alarm clock at 7am, anxious to catch the first rays of sunlight as they swept across the St. Mark's Basinl and bathed the tops of the old buildings of Venice. As promised, we awoke to find ourselves in a different berth - and what a berth! St. Mark's Square could be seen from the deck of the ship, only a 10-15 minute walk away.

After a quick breakfast, I headed ashore, keen to make the most of the short time we'd have today (shore leave ends at 11:15am, to sail away at 12 noon). By this time it was 8:30am, and Venice was quiet and glorious in the morning sunlight. I couldn't take photographs, or shoot video, quick enough.

St. Mark's Square was blissfully quiet and ampty of people, so I had a look at my map and decided to go exploring....

The first highlight of the morning (second if you count the impressive sunrise)  was Rialto Bridge, one of only 3 bridges that cross the Grande Canal, and the one that appears on all the touristy literature pertaining to Venice. By now things were startiong to get busier, and people (mostly japanese) were huddled together in groups, having their photographs taken on the Rialto.

Now, it didn't sink in at first, but there was a huge banner draped over the side of the bridge, advertising an exhibition at the Gallerie dell Academia di Venice. It was quite simply entitled 'Leonardo'. It occured to me that I had seen this same advertisement several times yesterday, and yet the implilcation of what I was seeing advertised simply hadn't registered. For here was a poster advertising the fact that for a limited time only, the Gallerie had within it's walls Leonardo De Vinci's 'Vetruvian Man'.

Having decided that this would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to view one of Art's iconic, historic pieces of work, my next job was to find the gallery. Nowhere on my map could i see where the gallery was, but occasionally, i spied a small sign pointing towards 'All Academie'. I followed the signs until they ran out and I was lost, maybe three times, each time realising that I had absolutely no idea where I was in relation to St. Mark's Square or the ship. Time was getting on, and I feared that my search might be in vain.

Imagine my excitement then, when I found it; Gallerie dell Accademia di Venezia, right by Aaccademia Bridge. Worried then that I wouldn't have enough money on me to get in, for surely there would be an entrance fee, and I only had 10 euros on me, I was pleased to discover that the charge to get in would be 8:50euros - I had enough - Woo Hooooooo!!!!!

So, here was the next highlight of my morning. I gazed upon paintings by Canaletto, Gentile Bellini, Vittore Barpaccio, Andrea Da Murano, Vecchio, amongst others, but my focus was in finding the room signposted simply as 'Leonardo'. And then there I was; standing, gazing at the original drawing, by Loenardo De Vinci, entitled 'the Vetruvian Man'. If you think you don't know it, then I assure you , you do; google it... it's the geezer with no clacks on, stood inside a circle with his hands and arms outstretched.



Check it out here: http://octagonmystic.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/vitruvian-man.jpg. It is one of the most iconic pieces of art in existence. I use it as irrefutable evidence (along with medical illustrations) that figures should be drawn 7-heads high and not the 8-heads that are so common these days. That 8:50 euros was worth every penny! I still can't believe I've seen the original of The Vetruvian Man, but there you go.... quite a highlight.

Unfortunately, time ran out on me, and I had to make a dash for the ship. It had taken me best part of an hour to find the gallery, yet I only had 45 minutes to get back to the ship before the end of shore-leave. By now, St. Mark's Square had magically filled with visitors, so making my way through the heaving throngs wasn't easy. The tide had come in again, which made navigating even more difficult, since tourists were squeezed into narrow raised walkways to avoid the rising waters (I swear there was more water than yesterday; Venice is definitely sinking!).

Needless to say, I made it with about 15 miinutes to spare. In a short while, we'll be leaving for Dubrovnik, in Croatia; they're preparing for a big sail-away deck party as I type.

One lady, who was leaving the ship this morning boasted how she'd spent 14 euros on a cup of coffee yesterday in St. Mark's Square. I was quick to say "What??? How much???", but then as she pointed out; this was her perk; something she'd promised herself, who was I to question her expenditure? I'd just spent 8:50 euros just to look at a grotty old piece of A4-sized paper that Leonadro de Vinci had once doodled a figure on (probably while he was waiting in a queue on the telephone).

Venice.... aaaah Venice.....