When I began planning my 2024 travels, I pretty much made a commitment to myself that I’d stick to the Western Hemisphere. Yes, I would also be planning for 2025, as there was a booked land tour in Greece set for late May. So when the transatlantic crossing for spring 2025 had an itinerary change, I was peeved. For the second booking, Holland America had dropped a stop in Bermuda, which I have high on my bucket list. So, deciding to bag HAL, I sought out an economic crossing with an interesting itinerary. Finding one on Princess, I delved a bit further into its offerings, and liked the October 2024 transatlantic repositioning of the Regal Princess, and booked both cruises.
Having booked the cruise, it backed up closely with a following trip I would be taking – a 2-week land tour in Cuba. Terminating the cruise in Galveston, I considered heading from Texas to Havana. My annual travel insurance covers trips of up to 45 days, so I had to be careful with my flight to Britain. Using American Airlines frequent flyer miles, I booked a non-stop from Tampa to Gatwick on British Air for 3 October. Then I rethought the extra time in Texas and made arrangements to return to Florida after spending my birthday in Houston.
Participating in the Facebook group for the crossing, I planned on hiding a few ducks and joined the gift exchange. My offers to join me on my planned excursions to cathedrals went unanswered. Meanwhile, I had been striving to find local driver guides in the ports of Le Havre, Bilbao and Vigo, as I had easily lined up a guide in Funchal, Maderia. And there was the issue of getting from London to the ship in Southampton.
GetTransfers seemed to be a go-to site, as they handled transportation needs all over Europe. However, for both England and France, those bidding for my ride wound up coming back with demands for extra funds as they hadn’t read the details. Fortunately, my France-based concierge has a driver in England, so I was able to make arrangements with Nikola. Le Havre proved to be seriously expensive and out of my range. Bilbao wound up with a guide working outside the firm I’d initially contacted, while Vigo had several options, before I found a driver who wasn’t a guide.
Here in Florida, it was much easier with drivers: my neighbor Dave was able to put me in his calendar for rides to and from Tampa and Sarasota. He picked me up half an hour early on Thursday, October 3 and we began our ride to the Tampa International Airport.
Unusual, traffic was stop-and-go and then we had a thunderstorm, which slowed things as well. My 7pm flight saw me arrive in Tampa at 5:30, only to have a delay to 10pm. The equipment had attempted to land in the storm, and had been redirected to Orlando, pending cleared weather. Clearing check-in, TSA and the airport crowd, I headed to The Café by Mise en Place for dinner. Crispy Brussel sprouts, pan seared salmon with asparagus, and a double Glenmorangie filled me up and left me mellow for the return to the podium where BA agents were giving out $9 meal vouchers.
I chatted up a couple heading to the Cayman Islands. She was from Vancouver, BC and he from NYC: they were set to move to Sarasota. Reflecting on my departure, I realized I’d left the garbage as well as some perishables, as well as forgetting my readers in my checked luggage. I call my neighbor Alan who took care of the refrigerator and trash. Boarding began at 8:45, with the doors closing half an hour later. Push back was nearly immediate, but it took another half hour to get off the ground. I had a bulkhead seat.
4 October – London
The British Air flight landed at 10:40am. I appreciated the later arrival, as it was easier to negotiate immigration and customs, find luggage and maneuver to the ThamesLink. The train was full of University of Utah students on a one-week break. They were wired, most on their phones, many taking selfies. They continued under the Thames, while I exited at the London Bridge stop. After wandering around the station for 15 minutes, I went to the taxi stand and had a hack take me to my lodgings. The Bridge Hotel sits on a corner on Borough Road, and they had a check-in time of 2 – I was 75 minutes early. So I left my bags after pulling my camera out, and walked across Blackfriar Bridge.
My first London objective was Temple Church. Back in 2019 during my extended stay in London and 9-week trip in Britain, my brother’s mother-in-law Kay had asked that I visit it and bring photos back for her. While she has since died, I wanted to honor my promise. (It had been a Saturday, and was closed in 2019.) I was completely lost on the grounds, taking about a half hour to finally find my way into the church.
My first impression was that this was a much-restored building – it felt more commercial (₤5 admission) than religious, and my anticipated Templar experience was nowhere to be felt. It is a bright and airy fully functional church, wonderful glass and fixtures, with some spiffed up remanents of the historic olden days. Of special delight to me was the trip up the circular stone stairwell to the balcony. Magnificent tile work on the floors, with the ancient feel on the actual stairs.
The Temple District is the land of jurisprudence. The zone is full of law libraries, partnerships and offices, attorney abodes. The borders run from the riverbank north to the Strand and Fleet Street and the Royal Courts of Justice. Temple Church was founded by the Knights Templar in 1125. It lies within “The City,” at its western edge.
Following Fleet Street as I left Temple, I was heading to St Mary Moorfields, a replacement for a former pro-cathedral, albeit the site had been relocated to Eldon Street from Finsbury Circus and Bloomfield Street with the construction of the Underground station. I’d been by in 2019 prior to the lost camera, but it was closed and I was unimpressed enough to not return then or in 2022. On this visit it was open, the entry placed between two shops. Walking through the vestibule, three banks of wooden pews face a main altar and a side Presence altar. Over the center aisle a bowed vault includes square leaded-glass clerestory windows. High wooden wainscotting lines the side walls, below carved marble Stations.
Learning of the building’s history, I left the ex-pro-cathedral and hunted for the plaque memorializing the actual location of the pro-cathedral. With luck, I found the blue enameled marking at near sidewalk level close to the designated corner. With the pro-cathedral’s 1870 relocation to Our Lady of Victories in Kensington, until the completion of Westminster Cathedral in 1903, I felt good to have returned, and learned that St Mary’s does bear inclusion in my collection.
Taking the Northern line back to Borough, I proceeded to walk Borough’s length before determining I was not on Borough Road, so I returned to Borough Market and found my way to my hotel. (My sense of direction, particularly in London, is abysmal.) After checking in, I was up to the top level and into a rather small room with a single cot. Unpacking, I discovered I’d forgotten my sleep apnea appliance in my rush to leave home. Accustomed to its presence when I slept, it meant an adjustment for 4 weeks.
At the front desk’s recommendation, I headed back up the road to the Duke of York pub. Requesting the special from the board, my sweet chili chicken burger arrived with the baked cauliflower cheese side. Tired from my flight, I headed back and was in bed early.
5 October – Chelmsford and Brentwood
Up about 8 and downstairs, I perused the buffet breakfast. I opted for wheat toast, a (mundane) croissant and two cups of coffee, bypassing the cold cereal, yogurts, muesli and hard-boiled eggs. Back to the room to clean my teeth and grab the camera, I was soon walking to the Southwark tube station and the Jubilee line to the Stratford stop. There I purchased tickets and rode the GreaterAnglia train to Chelmsford.
From the Chelmsford station, it was an easy walk to the cathedral close. Intrigued by the facing of the exterior façade, I moved around the yard looking for “that shot” as I studied what I thought was flint rounds imbedded in mortar. I was approached by a shorter, older man (83yo) who asked if I knew what stone it was. Further questioning by this parishioner proved I hadn’t done my homework!
He walked me inside the Cathedral Church of St Mary the Virgin, St Peter and St Cedd, proceeding to point out many highlights of the interior. He related about an early nineteenth century woman, an entrepreneur, who had a formula for a stone replacement which was used in the church’s columns. (Five letters, ends in a E) The cathedra, altar and font are all Scottish blue slate, he related, and it became evident he had a geological focus. We looked at the Tree of Life stained-glass window, the roods on the side altar, and the silver cross mounted on the wall. At the altar, he stopped by the ornate older organ, which could work both the pipes surrounding it as well as those in the rear above the narthex. A second console in the back was limited to playing the rear pipes.
As he was parting, he pointed out that this was a small building for the diocese which was both largest in population and geographic area. I remained, taking pictures of the many elements he’d pointed out. I was approached by a woman who was head of the volunteers, who added to my newly acquired information, this time from her perspective. She pointed out the skeleton in the Tree window, and acknowledge that the stained-glass was limited, as the building had collapsed in 1801 and had been re-ordered in 1983.
Back outside, I spent another 15 minutes walking around the building and getting more angles. Walking into the town center, I found the bus stop I needed, noting that I had about 20 minutes. This gave me a chance to investigate the Chelmsford town center, with the streets full of pedestrians, food trucks, information tents and produce booths.
Back to the bus stand, the #351 arrived and brought me southwest for 40 minutes to Brentwood, dropping me off on the High Street, just around the corner from the cathedral.
With an Italian Renaissance architectural style, the Cathedral of St Mary and St Helen has a blocky, Greek-cross feel. Outside, white columns embedded into walls of blocks of cut stone look stolid, with a lantern rising from the raised roof at the center of the squarish building. Inside, each “arm” of that cross is filled with rows of singular chairs facing an altar raised two steps on a dais. The lectern faces the altar, with the marble cathedra opposite. A dozen circular medallions fill the space between the curved arches supporting the raised vault, with three more off in a darkened extension – these modern art plackards proved to be the Stations. Bright and airy, the muted light blue walls with the slate gray ledge and columns, it gave me the feeling of a New England Congregational church.
Trying to determine which of the medallions was the thirteenth, I approached a gentleman who was apparently researching on his phone. Named Peter Jackson, he was from Northern Ireland and his passion was to visit all the cathedrals in the United Kingdom. He’d even heard about me from one of my visits to Irish cathedrals! We talked at length, sharing our histories. His goal was to get inside the cathedral in Achrony (near Sligo) which I’d tromped through a grass field after climbing a stone wall to photograph. I shared the London Churches website, as I thought he might find it useful.
Leaving the building, we parted in different directions. I walked a bit along the High Street before descending to ride the Elizabeth Line back to the Stratford station where I changed to the Jubilee line to get to the hotel. My room had been serviced, and I tackled some emails. I was still trying for a driver in Normandy. Both my phones needed charging, so I headed down to the front desk to borrow an adapter – I’d neglected to bring mine, as I would have needed it for just a weekend.
Having enjoyed my dinner the night before, I returned to the Duke of York pub, this time ordering the slow braised minted lamb and vegetable pie with mashed potatoes and mushy peas and a Sessions IPA followed by a Triple IPA. It was a good meal, and I headed back to backup my photographs and read a bit. Apparently, I had neglected to take my “meds”, as I was kept up most of the night with acid reflux and leg cramps in my right leg (dehydration?)
6 October – Transit via Dorchester Abbey to Southampton and the ship
Rising at 7, I was ready and downstairs forty minutes later. With the rough night behind me, I stuck to water all day. To add insult to injury, my plumbing decided to loosen up, so I kept an eye out for facilities. Niko, my driver recommended by Paul, was punctual, loading my bags in the boot and insisting I sit in the back seat. He claimed it was more comfortable and had more leg room, although I do prefer to sit up front for the better view.
It was a long ride to Dorchester Abbey, about one hundred minutes. We arrived at the Abbey Church of St Peter and St Paul, it had been a Saxon cathedral from 634 until 1072 (?1085), and I had missed when I was developing my list of English cathedrals. [Subsequently, I’ve found another list of former cathedral sites, adding about 25 to my UK-country list.] The day was gloomy and gray, overcast, and rain had darkened the stone façade. I entered the grounds through an arched gate, and entered the church via a small portico to the side. Vestry were preparing for the 11am service, and permitted me to roam freely. Seemingly comprised of two structures, the rear was used as a narthex, promoting services for the indigent and offering information for the visitor.
Through an arch was the crossing, chancel and sanctuary. This arch contains all that visibly remains of the original cathedral, but still I was delighted to add it to my collection. A simple altar stood in the front of the sanctuary, with an older, elaborate high altar back in the apse surrounded by glorious stained glass. The organist practiced the entry hymn, and I decided it was time to leave. Out into the churchyard, I wandered until my camera and I found my angle.
Back in the sedan, Niko drove through the beautiful Wessex countryside. He rolled into Southampton about 11:30. Another church had popped up on my new list which was in town, so we began a search for Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church. It had been a pro-cathedral for the diocese of Portsmouth for 1882, so I guess it deserved a visit. An A. Pugin church, it parallels Bugle Street with seven arched pairs of stained-glass windows and a narthex door along the sidewalk.
Inside, the priest was just concluding a baptism, so I bided my time knowing Niko was sourcing a loo and food before his return north. St Joseph’s has an altarpiece of dark red marble featuring six saints, below a stained-glass window depicting Christ walking on a storm-riled Sea of Galilee. The priest did confirm Wikipedia that the church had briefly been the pro-cathedral.
Back to the car, Niko soon was pulling up to the Princess boarding station. Pushing my roller luggage, I began the inefficient process of queuing, sitting, queuing again, etc. I noted I should have arrived later, as the process took 1½ hours from my noon arrival before boarding the ship. Fortunately, my room was ready and I was able to deal with my “accident”.
An inside cabin, the bed had been set up as a queen, centered on the back wall. An ample-sized desk had 4 drawers and the mini-frig beside it. The bathroom had plenty of surface, as well as three rounded glass shelves in one corner. Opposite it was a full closet with loads of hangers. Behind a narrow door, more shelves and the safe. My cabin attendant Jack knocked and introduced himself to me as he rolled my big bag inside. We discussed my “requirements” – a warm room, no blanket, a willingness to get items for him from shore – and I then headed to my muster station having watched the required video twice. I took a few pictures of the ship before sitting in Crooners for sail-away. The Facebook group had planned to gather there, so I got to meet a few of those I’d chatted with online.
I had an assigned dining spot in the Allegro Dining Room for 7:40, which resulted in me being placed around the corner at a table for one. That had to change. My meal consisted of a caesar salad; crawfish stew, Cajun-spiced cream, steamed rice, roasted cauliflower; with a club soda and bitters. The latter was to help settle my stomach. Plus I realized I might have skipped my omeprazole during my travels, something I can’t do more than twice in a row! The chocolate souffle was overcooked, with a thick hard crust in the pastry dish.
7 October – Le Havre
The email I’d received the on waking had another GetTransfer offer at more than double the accepted cost for a different driver in Normandy. I declined the “highway robbery” and requested a refund. Fortunately, I’d planned alternative actions for just this situation. Once my phone alarm woke me, I had to rejoin the ship’s wifi (when booking, I’d opted to upgrade to Princess Plus, which gave me wifi, gratuities, the drink package and two desserts daily) as it seemed to have dropped me with the time change – we lost an hour going to the continent.
The weather in Le Havre was gray and overcast, a bit chilly. I walked off the ship with the sun rising, and opted to not taxi or shuttle into town, instead walking 2.4km in 45 minutes to the train/bus stations. After checking with Information, I purchased a round-trip ticket to Lisieux and headed to the bus platform. At 9 the #111 Deauville bus took me over the Pont de Normandie, a spectacular bridge I first saw in 1999, dropping me in Honfleur. I had enough time in Honfleur to get a coffee and croissant at a corner café. The #123 pulled in to bring me to Lisieux.
While rolling through the French countryside, I realized that my soul was joyous to be back in France. My “little kid” was giggling, grinning wide from ear to ear. My spirit was lifted to great heights as we passed through green verdant valleys, with little villages gleaming – it was superb. My stop was just up the hill from the Lisieux Cathedral formally known as the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre de Lisieux.
Walking to the west through the churchyard, I noted that the beige covering over the red blocks used to build the cathedral walls was in need for attention. I suspected that because it isn’t one of the tourist circuit buildings, French patrimony wasn’t being invested in its upkeep. (Post the Revolution, all church buildings belong to the Repubic, and are leased/rented back to the Church.)
Lisieux Cathedral is very large, with the rear chapel off the ambulatory and the sanctuary being about the same length of the nave, with a proportionately wider transept at the crossing. Flying buttresses support these tall walls. It is now a co-cathedral in the diocese of Bayeux. In the nave, the columns rise to support a gallery, above which clerestory windows continue to the vault. Moveable wooden pews line only the central aisle. All along the nave side aisle, chapels with paintings and statues are behind iron gates.
At the crossing, a square wooden platform, up 3 steps from the stone floor, is the focus for worship – the altar and seats for the celebrant and servers. A rectangular lantern emits light from directly overhead. Behind this platform, on either side backing up to crossing columns, are two matching dark wooden seats: the cathedra for a bishop of Bayeux and a seat for a visiting or adjunct bishop. Behind the platform is the quire, which is surrounded by the ambulatory. A chapel to the virgin extends the length of the long axis.
After about an hour, I exited and began the search for my angle. Built on a slight incline, with trees and buildings crowding the eastern portion beyond the transepts, it was hard to include its great length, the two mismatched towers in the west. A circular circus tent next to a fountain in front was yet another obstacle.
Lisieux was the home of the Martin family, a nineteenth century couple who raised 7 daughters, all of whom took the veil. One, the now canonized St Theresa of the Little Flower, has caused Lisieux to be a pilgrimage destination. A massive basilica has been built to the southeast on the next rise, its dome looming over the town. Guessing incorrectly, I took the Avenue Jean XIII beyond the parking entrance and wound up walking well past the complex. Once I could cross the road (I was hoping for good photo angles), I managed to slip in through a fence to approach the shrine from its rear.
As I walked down the slight incline, I first encountered a calvary, an outdoor Stations of the Cross. Continuing, I came around the back of the building and entered the brightly-lit space. This is a rather new structure, completed in 1951, with most surfaces covered in story-relating mosaics. Along the nave and transept walls are chapels, dedicated to countries. (I had found similar chapels in the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC.) In the windows of these chapels were yet another Stations, and when I was downstairs in the undercroft, another set were mounted on the walls. I felt frustrated as the golds were not being captured adequately by the cameras.
On exiting the basilica, I checked to find that my buses back would leave in about an hour, and that I needed to find the train station. Google Maps and I only made one wrong turn, and I approached the bus stop. Interestingly, there was an unstaffed kiosk, which offered to make, cook and sell pizzas in 3 minutes!
Instead, I opted to head to the Café de la Gare where I ordered a croque madame with a Leffe ruby. Open faced ham and cheese with a fried egg, the fries were delicious. Exiting, I circled the fenced parking area and boarded the waiting bus. I was the sole passenger back to Honfleur, and the driver knew about the deviation occurring midway. We had to make a few stops as he was ahead of schedule. Fields of trees, overbearing with red apples, would soon be picked to make the local cidre and eventually, Calvados. In Honfleur I had some time, so I walked up the canal-side and found a good vantage point to capture a picture with both piers supporting the bridge over the mouth of the Seine River.
We headed out with a near full bus, swinging around roadway jughandles to climb and join the ramp onto the bridge. With foreknowledge, I knew which side to be seated, and added to my pictures of the bridge. On the north side, we passed the blue domed stadium, pulling into the station in Le Havre just before 4pm. All aboard the ship was 7:30, so I had plenty of time. My next destination was the cathedral in this port city. Maps showed a fairly straightforward route of 1.8km and projected 25minutes.
Still gloomy, I strolled the Quai George V for nearly a kilometer, getting shots of a war memorial, a bizarre twisted building which was rehabilitation housing. Turning on Rue de Paris, I walked several blocks and beheld the Le Havre Cathedral known as the Cathédrale Notre-Dame du Havre. Situated on a block of its own, its baroque façade reminded me of the cathedral in Montauban. It was one of few Le Havre structures to survive unscathed during World War II. A large blocky bell- and clock-tower stands to its south.
On entering the cruciform-floor plan, immediately I noticed that netting stretched between the columns, blocking a clear line of site into the vault. Light streamed in the windows. Seating was on individual chairs lined up in rows. Acrylic paintings were positioned gallery-like on easels or walls in the side aisles, all of religious topics, and on what I’d call stacked canvas. In the apse, the bishop’s throne was placed against the wall, under a stained-glass window depicting Notre-Dame. The altar table stood at the entry to the sanctuary. Statues of 10 saints were mounted on columns in this curved wall space.
Leaving the cathedral (yet one of many Notre-Dame Cathedrals in France,) I walked toward the harbor. Off on the pier was the Regal Princess, more distant by foot than line of sight, as I had to take a bridge to get around the Bassin de la Manche to reboard the ship. It appeared that low season had started, as a number of tourist shops were closed. I did find one, and was able to get a bottle of Calvados and some chocolate bars to bring back.
I observed three men shucking scallops – one to crack open the shell, one to cut the scallop off, and one (the woman) to supervise. The walk was longer than I remembered from the morning, and I was glad to be able to dump my gear in my cabin. I took my camera up to the top deck, getting pictures of the empty pool area, the “skywalk” – bows of glass walkway bulging out from the side of the ship, and lots of shots in the buffet.
Outside, I checked out the aft bar, checking what Scotch whisky might be available, and I was pleased with the selection. I climbed up another level (or two) to get views of the harbor and the top of the ship.
Back to deck 9 (Dolphin Deck), I dropped my jacket and camera, and headed to get a scotch to sip before dinner. Learning from the night before, I was ahead of my 7:40pm reservation, and accepted the offer to join a “sharing” table, so that I was one of 8. I got names of Barbara, Alan and Betty & Charles. My choice for wine with dinner wasn’t available (I learned that it was, but the wait staff were shorthanded, and didn’t want to run to the other dining room) so I had a glass of a rather poor red blend. Starting with a chopped salad, Chinese pork dumplings and onion soup, I was pressured to bypass the seared scallops in favor of the roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and gravy. The beef was bland, albeit cooked as requested. Dessert was a decadent chocolate cheesecake.
As we sat to dinner, following the all-aboard announcement, the captain came on the PA. He announced that because of two significant storms in the north Atlantic, he had reluctantly decided to cancel both of our port calls in Spain, but would instead stop in Cobh, Ireland on Wednesday. I grabbed my phone and immediately sent emails to my driver-guides in Bilbao and Vigo, explaining the abrupt change. [I got a partial refund from Bilbao, and full refund from Vigo.] A number of passengers had been on the Regal before our departure from Southampton, and they had missed their call in Dubin (a tender port) due to rough seas. This change seemed to appease some, but was a huge disappointment for me.
8 October – at sea
When I went to leave my cabin for breakfast, two gift bags were hanging on my door. I’d agreed to participate in a gift exchange, and had been slotted into a group of 6 (unlike the others who were 8 in number.) After my oatmeal at a sharing table of 8, I returned to my cabin to put my own gift bags together. Back in Florida, I’d prepared two small bags – one with beach shells, saltwater taffy and a few plastic trinkets, the other with sharks’ teeth, petrified wood, tortoise shell fossils. I combined them with a bag of gummy sharks, and a sample bottle of balsamic vinegar from Venice Olive Oil Company. Yeah, I overdid it, as we were capped at $5, but I was happy to showcase my home city and state.
Once my 5 bags were together, I walked the hallways on the 3 decks I had to visit. As I got back to my cabin, a couple came by with their gift, a hot plate, and some gift cards were stuck to the door. I brought them in, and then spent a little time following up with email and backing up my photos. A late lunch at Allegro of salmon, I made no other notes until dinner.
Again, a sharing table of 6 for dinner, I leaned towards fowl: duck liver pate, duck a l’orange with a seared walnut crusted goat cheese and greens salad. I noted that I was joined by Renee and Austin, who lived on the SoCal/Arizona border with Mexico. For dessert I had a hazelnut torte and cheesecake. The duck was tasty!
After dinner I stopped at Princess Live! Café (PL!C) for a snort. I tried both the Abernathy and Dalwhinnie as I got to know the two principal bartenders Jonathan and Michael. A bit too much Scotch for the evening, so none the worse for wear when I crashed.
9 October – Cobh
Persisting with dining at the Allegro dining room in the stern of the ship, I remembered to ask for the fresh OJ that came with being “Plus”. I’d collected a hot chocolate from PL!C, so with the decafe coffee, enjoyed a mocha with my turkey eggs Benedict with a side of crispy bacon. After grabbing a jacket and my camera, I debarked, finding that the pier was right next to the train station that I’d used in 2022 when I made a day trip from Cork. I followed the shoreline to the Titanic Memorial Garden.
As I passed through the main tourist downtown, St Colman’s Cathedral perched on the bluff. The views out into the harbor included seeing the pilot boats. The Garden occupied a pleasant, well-kept grounds. A nice park, the plantings seemed to be native and wild, but placed for esthetics. I read many of the information panels, grateful that no relatives had been on her maiden voyage.
Leaving, I followed a road which gradually climbed up front the shoreline. Tightly packed two-story homes were terraced as the land rose away from the harbor. The single spire of the cathedral acted as a sentinel, drawing all to its holy grounds. (That might be plagiarism, because I don’t usually wax that poetic.) My approach took me past the cemetery, viewing the apse behind the parish house. Knowing that I’d taken an awesome shot of St Coleman’s Cathedral to include in Volume II, I just enjoyed snapping those images that intrigued me.
One of the more bizarre elements was that the cathedra was draped, hidden under a black cloth. Bishop Crean is still alive, so I had no idea why the chair appeared to mourn. Included in my focus were the three rose windows – the west-facing over the entrance, and the two in the transept arms. Several good snaps of the rear, but the transepts eluded me with obstructions from arches and lighting. Perhaps it will grace the cover of Volume III?
Leaving the summit, I came down into town and stopped in a shop to get nibbles – since Covid, bars (even on ships) no longer provide edibles when drinks are served. Stocking up on crisps, Chex mix and nuts, I added a few chocolate bars to the basket. I returned to the ship, and by half-past one, I was in the buffet (the dining room is closed on port days.) A slice of roast pork, scoop of creamed spinach, and a big salad were accompanied by a virgin bloody Mary.
Up top, I found space to use my phone despite having ship’s wifi. After probably roaming the nearly empty ship, I settled with my reader in Crooner’s, snagging a group of seats for the solo group to gather. Maria, Mary, Ed, James, Sheila, Henderson and Laura showed up, and I was asked to bring my copy of Cathedrals to the Glory of God (Volume I) to the gathering the next day. Many in the group headed to early dinner, while I sat sipping on a Glenmorangie on the rocks, awaiting my 7:30 reservation. A shared table, I had prosciutto and melon, minestrone soup and veal scallopini. There’s a picture of a dessert sampler plate that must have landed in front of me.
10 October – at sea
Sleeping in, I didn’t rise until 9:15, so I headed up to Deck 16 for the buffet. I filled a plate with pieces of cantaloupe, watermelon and pineapple, and snagged a cup of decafe. On the schedule was a talk in the theater expounding on the stage productions. It was followed by the second of the Enrichment Talks, with the speaker presenting a lecture regarding the Jet Age and its influence on cruising. This second session was excellent, and I then made it a point to joint subsequent talks for the remainder of the trip.
Lunch was a shared table of 6 where I had the mac and cheese. Afterwards, I went back to my cabin, intent on doing some online activities. The Princess wifi allows connection for a single connected device, and I was unable to use Bluetooth to share the connection from the phone to the netbook. A bit of experimentation, and I logged off the phone, logged on the netbook and did my secondary email and some banking. And then back on the A14 phone.
On the previous sea day, all passports were collected, and I wasn’t in the cabin when my steward attempted to return it. So I headed down to Customer Service to collect. While there, I mentioned my book, and it was overheard by Tom, a retired military chaplain. He later contacted me, and I’ll write more about that in a bit. Meanwhile, I decided to attend tea. I expected it to be like either the service on Cunard or Holland America, but it was much less structured. Seated at a shared table for 6 in the Concerto dining room (midship, deck 6), I joined Floridians from Orlando and Melbourne. Waiters with pots of tea, plates of sandwiches (savory), scones, clotted cream and jam, and desserts (sweets) either were bumping into one another, or completely absent. No order or organization, this proved to be the tea service setup for the voyage.
Up a level, I collected the daily crossword puzzle from the “library” (a narrow space, it was more a game and jigsaw puzzle room than a place to get and read books) and headed to Crooners. By 5:30 the solos had gathered, and I arranged with Houghton, a school teacher from Corpus Christi, to join me in Funchal with my driver guide, Fred, who I notified by email.
Dinner again in Allegro at a shared table, I only noted my choices and that the waitstaff had been seriously disorganized with the sharing. I suspect I got bounced from the first table I’d been seated at. In any case, I started with the poached pear and blue cheese crumble and the chilled creamy sour cherry soup. For a main, the Santa Fe chicken chili (hoping for something with tastable seasoning) which I followed with the apple pie crumble for dessert. As a treat, I enjoyed a small glass of the Errazuriz late harvest sauvignon blanc, a pleasant dessert wine.
11 October - at sea
Breakfast in Allego was scrambled eggs with salmon and a hash brown, fresh squeezed OJ and coffee. I collected the crossword puzzle and got a hot chocolate at PC!L as I headed to the theater for the enrichment talk.
Fran Schneider’s topic that day was Cunard’s Legendary Liners, which dovetailed nicely with the talks I’d heard on the HAL Rotterdam 18 months earlier, and on the Queen Mary II a year before.
Lunch with couples from Phoenix and Nottingham, I started with the pepper pot soup, then on to bacon and pulled pork on a bun with barbecue sauce and cheese – a truly messy main. With my curiosity peeked, I enjoyed the blueberry sorbet. No further notes for the day, and the only picture of dinner seems to be prime rib.
12 October – at sea
Apparently, I wasn’t feeling particularly healthy that Saturday, as I made no entries in my journal. I did note that the morning talk had been on the America’s Cup, as Mr Schneider had crewed with Dennis Connors after the failed defense of 1983. My lunch food pictures are a cup of lentil soup and a bowl of fish curry.
I attended tea, seated at a large shared table of 10.
Dinner was the rustic beef and vegetable hot pot (soup,) with the stilton-mousse accompanying Waldorf salad to start. For a main, I tried the beef stroganoff. Coconut cheesecake and the dessert wine ended my dinner.
Afterwards, as was my pattern, a stop at the PL!C where Jonathan played his ukelele and sang as fellow passenger Bill strummed along. We were building a nicely knit-together group. And I apparently found a drinking buddy, a gent from Southampton, and overdid it a bit.
13 October – Funchal, Madeira
A port day, I was up earlier and eating breakfast at 8. My meal was a frittata, which came with sausage. Off the ship, I rendezvous’d with Houghton, and we went in search of Fred.
We had to walk outside the embarkment area, as only a limited number of vehicles were permitted at the dock. Fred made the Sé Catedral de Nossa Senhora da Assunção our first stop. As it was a Sunday, Mass was underway so I wasn’t able to explore inside the building. With Houghton tagging along, I made my circuit of the exterior of the church, as it sat in a triangle of surface streets.
Our guided tour lasted from 9 until 4:30, getting us back an hour before all aboard. Fred took us all over the island, and either I’m going to have to get better about making notes or I’m going to have to ask for a post mortem itinerary, as once again my non-existent notes reflect that I just enjoyed the tour. I took about 100 pictures, and hesitate to attempt to caption them, so I’ll just link to a NikonImage album. I will note that banana propagation was very visible in the low to mid elevations, with lots of terracing. We did do a walk on a glass platform over a cliff drop towards the end.
Suffice it to report, I loved our exposure to this beautiful island of Madeira. Rugged coast lines, soaring mountains, it is a testament to the resourcefulness of the inhabitants that almost every inch of usable land has been touched. While part of Portugal, it seemed more laissez-faire, although the offshore real estate investment seems to be creating a housing crunch due to lack of affordable residences. Situated to the west of the coast of Morocco, on the sunny day we visited, there wasn’t a bad or discouraging moment. I’m looking forward to a return in early April, and expect to have Fred guide me around again.
Houghton and I split once we got to the dock, as he was searching for internet connectivity, and I needed the facility. At dinner, I was seated with Daryl and Lynette from Atlanta: they had just boarded as he had lost his passport in London and had jumped many hoops to replace it, and then catch up with the ship. Apparently, Princess had never told them of the itinerary change to Cobh, as they had anticipated joining the ship in Bilbao.
Dinner consisted of a salad, garlic soup, cassoulet and the berry cobbler. As I wasn’t feeling 100%, I skipped heading to the PL!C bar and crashed.
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