Saturday 1st and Sunday 2nd March

Sydney reputably one of the world’s most spectacular harbours. It is impressive, I’ll give you that, but spectacular? not too sure. We were up early full of expectation. Early morning light was fighting with thick cloud and for the most part losing. It was a murky morning. Where was all that sunshine the Aussies promised us, it was here last week we were told. Last week’s no good, we are here today and Australia is supposed to be the land of eternal sunshine. Any way we approached the entrance through the impressive Heads, North & South. These are massive cliffs that together with middle head served to disguise the entrance making it difficult for early mariners to find, as when sailing past it looks like one continuous rocky coastline and without today’s modern navigational aids it would still be difficult to find, looking towards the shore from out at sea. As we nosed through the narrow gap and into the harbour, those twin features appeared far to starboard, Sydney Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. We turned to starboard making for them, as if suddenly getting our bearings so to speak and realising where we were. As we bore down on the bridge we were surrounded by helicopters and light aircraft flying round and round like angry hornets, one of the helicopters (channel nine) repeatedly swooped down to almost sea level, headed towards us before soaring up and over us. Not sure that would have been allowed in the UK, but it all served to create an atmosphere of excitement especially when the ship unfurled our surprise. Our visit coincides with Mardi Gras and to show our support we are joining in with the celebrations by flying a 126 metre long Happy Mardi Gras cape, 12.5 metres high, complementing this was a 2.2 metre high stiletto. We were to be bathed in pink light and designated ‘Queen of the harbour’ hmmm and were to party the night away, ‘were’ being the operative word, more on that later. All the tower blocks around the harbour were twinkling away as hundreds of cameras clicked and arms appeared waving at every accessible point around the quays. We slipped slickly between the Opera House and the bridge as if we did it every day of the week.

Immigration was a doddle here as the immigration officials sailed with us from New Zealand. (NB. America). After breakfast we disembarked for our trip which was ‘Leisurely Sydney’ an overview of the city in order for us to decide what we were going to do in our own time. We boarded our coach and set off through the traffic (which as in all cities was nose to tail) fortunately our driver drove contra to the main flow so we were not as impeded as we could have been, but it would not really have mattered if we had as the heavens opened and we stared glumly out of the coach windows as our guide enthused about what we would have seen had the visibility been good.

Rain was on and off the whole morning and in this it was kind to us when we arrived at Bondi Beach it was during an off period. Bondi was smaller than we imagined from the stories we had heard, perfectly formed for rollers, but the surfers did not want to perform. There were hundreds of surfer’s heads in the sea all waiting for that one big one which never came. Every now and then a brave soul would have a crack only to be swallowed up in a mass of white froth as the wave broke before even getting going. There was a continuous stream of fed up surfers leaving and optimistic surfers arriving, we spent about 35 minutes watching the fun but the rain showed signs of returning so we resumed our Leisurely Tour.

On over to the high point where we would have seen spectacular views of the harbour, but for the fact that the weather had once more closed in and some unfortunate soul had jumped so the area was closed off by the police whilst they carried out their grim inquiries. This is apparently the number one spot for suicide and is covered by dozens of security cameras. There was however one bright (if it can be called that) side to this place as our guide pointed out a small ordinary bungalow opposite, where, apparently until he died a few months ago, a gentleman lived who is credited with saving over 440 lives during his time there. It seems he would keep an eye out for potential jumpers and would rush out and invite them in for a cup of tea and a chat, ending in talking them out of it. It was voluntary, he wasn’t paid anything but had received various honours for his work, it left us wondering how effective video cameras would be in taking his place. Anyway suitable cheered up by this positive spin on an otherwise depressing story in depressing weather we moved on to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. Mrs Macquarie liked to walk around the point opposite the botanic gardens but needed somewhere to sit to admire them as governor’s wives do, so she asked her husband to get the convicts to carve a seat out of the solid rock so she could sit and stare across the bay, which he (and they) duly did. One could only guess what was going through the convict’s minds as they sweated in 40 plus degrees in the hot sun so she could have somewhere cool to sit. It was not that kind of weather for us, because as we were contemplating life in those days the heavens opened again and we were caught in another torrential downpour.

I was not going to miss my ice cream for a spot of rain so I bought a cornet from an incredulous Australian lady and clambered back on board the coach, drenched. We finally got back to the ship for a shower and a change of clothes a bite to eat and then guess what? It stopped raining, so off we went round the Rocks the oldest part of Sydney (where the first convict’s tents were erected) and now home to markets, shops and other tourist attractions. Rain still attempted to discourage us but most of the markets were under cover and a lot of the pavements were sheltered by overhangs. We found some WiFi with a bar attached and managed to get rid of all the photo’s we had accumulated. Then back on board for dinner before venturing out for the Mardi Gras. Well that was the plan! We went up to the cabin to get some cash, went out onto the balcony to see how warm it was only to see rain falling out of the sky like out of a bucket. Not a soul in sight and not a sound, so plan B the bar. I guess the Mardi Gras was a washout which is a bit of a shame as they plan for it all year round.

Sunday was a little better so we shot off first thing for the Opera House and then into the Botanic gardens. We were surprised at how quiet everywhere was, the train we took for the guided tour only had about eight people on it. It took about half an hour and we then went to walk around at our own pace having had the overview. This was too good to be true the rain held off and the sun even had the temerity to show it’s face for a while. About twelve thirty we decided to go back for a bite to eat before exploring under the bridge. As we made our way back past the Opera House we realised we had made a good choice by going early as the crowds were pouring in. Word had got out that the sun was shining. 🙂 It was not to last, we were almost back on board when the rain returned and we watched from the Lido as the crowds melted away as fast as they had arrived. Another three hours of rain and we nipped out again with a brolly to explore under the bridge and round the “fingers” quays that stick out into the harbour on the other side of the bridge. Although we had some bad luck with the weather, the tour that went to the Blue Mountains travelled two hours to see nothing, no mountains, no blue and they got drenched as the windows in the bus leaked. The bridge tour got drenched climbing the bridge and couldn’t see much when they got to the top and we daren’t ask the cycle tour people how they had got on. Never mind, we are now back at sea heading for Brisbane and we have changed a huge chunk of Australians for a huge chunk of Japanese and the food has changed to reflect this.

Saturday 15th March

We arrived in Kagoshima to a welcoming crowd of Japanese well wrapped up and madly waving little orange flags like their lives depended on it. An excellent band played their hearts out as we berthed at a brand new liner terminal on a huge rectangle of reclaimed land. The terminal took about a 1% of the available area that had been reclaimed which looked a bit incongruous as this strip had been landscaped (including mature trees) whilst the remaining 99% was white compressed hard core with a frame of reinforced concrete, most of which was currently being used as a temporary car park for the assembled crowd. The backdrop to this visage was the city of Kagoshima, scrunched together at the base of a mountain range that looked like it was deliberately nudging the whole community into the bay. In fact as we were to learn later, the whole population of Japan of over one hundred million souls inhabit just 5% of the country that is available, most of it similarly surrounded by mountain ranges like the one surrounding Kagoshima. On the far side of the bay nestling in amongst a dozen or so peaks we espied yet another smoking volcano. I wondered if that was Sakurajima. Impressed that I know the name of Japanese volcanoes? Don’t be, Sakurajima is the destination of our trip today and as it is a volcano it was a safe bet that, this was the one. I am not sure how wise it is climbing the side of Japan’s most active volcano, but if my blog stops here then you will know it turned out to be not at all wise.

Immigration turned out to be the usual scrum with the queue going twice round the ship (or so it seemed) and like the Americans, the Japanese wanted everyone’s finger prints, though their fingerprint machines proved far more temperamental than the American ones. The times allocated for everyone to attend were quickly ignored by most passengers. Those going on trips jostled with those due to leave the ship at this port as their departure times loomed large. Harassed ships staff attempting to improve things by changing instructions and fast tracking these passengers only succeeded in raising the ire of those who had been assiduously queuing for an hour or more. Once more we were reminded of how effectively and efficiently immigration was achieved when immigration officials sailed with us from the port prior to entry. One can’t help wondering how a company with the experience Cunard have, keep getting caught with their pants down by immigration procedures. Everything else they organise seems to run like clockwork. Luckily we were near the front of the queue and our tour was only delayed 30 mins because of those caught in the mêlée. The main complaint we heard, was as always, lack of information, though I suspect the reason information was not forthcoming was because the delays were caused by difficulties with the fingerprinting devices and to broadcast this would only serve to embarrass our hosts. I was efficiently processed, my finger prints were taken by a pretty young girl who was very apologetic when her equipment didn’t work, she wiped my fingers with a pad and kept saying push harder sir, push harder! which I did and finally when she was satisfied she cleared me for entry.

We disembarked into a beautiful sunny spring morning and boarded our coach. We had a delightful tour guide called Hiroko who’s English was excellent and her knowledge of the ancient history of the area prodigious. She introduced us to our driver Mr Sugarshitta who was more smartly dressed and smiled more than any military man I have seen and off we went into? Yes you’ve guessed, traffic. We think we have bad traffic but Japans traffic is different, it flows like toothpaste, very smoothly, but very slowly. We sort of oozed along rather than flowed, which is why we were grateful for Hiroko who worked valiantly at keeping us informed and entertained. Remarkably for a high-tech country, her presentation aids were decidedly low tech. She had hand drawn in felt tip pen her pictures to describe the subjects she was talking about (inadvertently showing us a drawing of a Buddha upside down, which we all thought was deliberate, a sort of Buddha doing yoga). Her map of Japan which was stuck over the TV kept falling down and the Cunard lady volunteered to hold it up while Hiroko used an unnecessary extending pointer to indicate the areas she was talking about (a finger would have worked just as well), I loved it. We eventually turned up at the ferry which we drove on and ten minutes later drove off at the ferry terminal on Mount Sakurajima. Now people say Mount Sakurajima is impressive from a distance (and it is) but up close it is not! It’s alarming, there is a steady rain of ash which we were told was nothing to worry about as the volcano was behaving itself today. From the state of the cars parked outside it was hard to believe, they looked like they had been parked there for years. We wandered around the paths below the main vent which was about a 1000 metres above and realised that the noise we were listening to was not the wind, but gas hissing; no roaring out of what looked to us like a very small crater. Anyone who has heard a pressure cooker hissing will know the feeling. Unbelievably this volcano has erupted 830 times in the previous twelve months, (it is the world’s most active volcano) it sounded like it was about to go again when we were there, but all that was happening was puffs of smoke and ash like a contented pipe smoker sat by his Tele. 5,000 people live on the island and they have an ash collecting service, we think we have enough different coloured bins, but if you live on the island you place all the ash you sweep up in yellow plastic bags which you place outside in a little covered area to be collected. Everywhere we went there were little shelters not unlike an Anderson shelter (that ages me) but constructed in cement, just in case there was a belch, because then the volcano spits out rocks as well as dust and these are a bit dangerous if they land on your head. I picked one up (about the size of a small plum) and they are not light. The islanders were not only happy to live there, they were proud of the produce they could grow in the ash. Giant radishes were their best produce, apparently one of their radishes appears in the Guinness Book of Records as the largest radish ever grown, but everything else grew better, sweeter and bigger. Makes you think that there is a market for the ash as a growth enhancer. Anyway after tasting the radishes and the tiny sweet oranges and the baked sweet potatoes it was time to bid farewell to the world’s most active volcano and we drove onto the ferry and back across the Bay (which by the way was created by? Yes you’ve guessed it a volcano, about three thousand years ago). On the way back Hiroko informed us that she had forgot to sing the song she was supposed to sing to appease the volcano on the way there, but she would sing it now on the way back, which she did. A delightful little ditty in the manner of all Japanese songs, ie not easy to join in with, however it got a round of applause which pleased her. Next stop was Sengan-en Garden which was three hundred years old and used to belong to the ruling samurai. As we pulled into the car park we were directed into our bay by a young lady in another very smart uniform and a very loud referee’s whistle, which she used as a reversing signal. As we reversed in she gave intermittent long blasts on the whistle which shortened in length and increased in number the closer we got to the wall, upon reaching the desired position this changed to a long steady blast. Japan the home of all the latest gadgets in cars was still using someone with a whistle to reverse coaches into bays, perhaps they have a very powerful car park attendants Union.

They were very proud of this garden which used something they called ‘borrowed scenery’ using Mount Sakurajima as a garden hill and Kino Bay as a garden lake. I think Capability Brown called it Landscape Gardening. Everything was immaculate, the lawns, rockeries, hedges you name it. But there was some strange incongruities, for instance high up on the hillside was some Japanese writing on a big piece of cliff face which Hiroko explained was put there by an ancient samurai as a joke. He had 4,000 workers carve the cliff flat and then engraved the characters ‘THIS IS BIG’ Well I don’t suppose anyone told him it wasn’t funny because samurais could get a bit nowty if you didn’t laugh at their jokes. But I couldn’t help wondering what the 4,000 workers thought about having to carve what was after all, ancient graffiti and not very good graffiti at that. There’s nothing new in the world of vandalism. We spent a good hour or so wandering round appreciating things like the 300 year old falling down tree, a statue of a lion standing on its head (another ancient samurai joke) we tasted a local drink made of vinegar and honey, it tasted of vinegar and honey (another ancient samurai joke? No, but it tasted like one) it was supposed to do you all sorts of good. We asked Hiroko if we could taste some Saki she said no but she knew a song about that and bolstered by the success of the previous song, she sang us the song of Saki, which sounded a lot like the previous one, except we could hear the odd mention of the word Saki in it.

On our way back as we oozed along in the traffic Hiroko once more launched into her routine of facts and figures about Japan, it was amazing the sheer magnitude of information she had stored in her head. Of course she could have been making it up but I doubt it as it was obviously a passion. She explained the difference between a temple and a shrine (Buddhists worship in a temple and Shinto’s worship in a shrine) and explained the paradox of the total number of Buddhists, Shinto’s and Christians’ in Japan totalling about 250 million. Japanese love festivals, especially Christmas, so to be able to take part in all of them, they worship and take part in all three religions. Someone asked her when the Cherry Blossom bloomed? Big mistake! Some of the early blossoms were blooming already, but she explained that the big burst of blossom would be in two weeks time. However she knew a song about cherry blossom which she proceeded to sing. This song was quite a bit longer than the previous two songs so it was quite a relief when she got to the end, unfortunately she also knew it in English so she then sang the whole song again in English! Sigh! Perhaps we should not have applauded her singing so enthusiastically, Hiroko was obviously not into irony.

When we got back to the ship the quay was crowded and there was a strange thundering noise which we finally tracked down to some traditional Japanese drummers who were bashing their drums quite ferociously, so took a couple of videos, then we had a look round the rest of the stalls that were set up, kimono wearing ladies and traditional dancers. They were all having a great time and cars were still pouring into the car park. Chairs were being put out for what looked like a fully fledged orchestra and about half an hour before sailing this turned out to be so, except for one thing all the players were school children and they really were superb. They played Glenn Miller numbers and the soloists, both boys and girls displayed a maturity way beyond their years and they played a large selection of his repertoire. As we cast off and reversed away from the quayside a huge cheer went up and there was once more a mass of madly waving orange flags. The band broke into “In the mood” once more and the ships foghorn let rip with a series of farewell blasts.

Monday 17th March

We made sure we did not linger too long over dinner last night as we wanted to get the best (highest) point on the upper deck for the suspension bridge, but we needn’t have bothered, not many people (i.e. dozens not hundreds) turned up to watch. We slowed right up to make sure we hit the tide at its lowest point and then literally inched our way towards the centre point of the bridge using the bow thrusters to position ourselves just right. Left a bit, right a bit, stop, wait, inch forward. We were not going to do it, no way on this mans earth were we going to get under that bridge. There were shouts of stop and wait, women were squealing and running for cover. Tiny bit by tiny bit we crawled forward stopping starting waiting for that vital low tide point. Everyone’s neck was aching and right up to the point of hitting the bridge we all knew we were not going to make it. As the mast head met the first girder, it slipped under it with barely space for a fag paper. Huge shouts of “No Way!” The second girder came and the same gasps whoa! Well, of all the bridges in all the world that was the tightest fit I have ever seen and it seemed as if the ship itself had been holding its breath, because as we finally cleared the second girder, vibration beneath our feet told us the engines were picking up speed and sure enough we began to move forward at a renewed pace for the short period between the Bridge and our berth at the new Yokohama International Passenger Terminal.

The skyline was a sea of lights, one of the best we have seen easily competing with New York. Set in the centre of this mass of illumination was the jewel in the crown, the Ferris wheel, a brilliant kaleidoscope of colour changing from rotating spokes, to Catherine wheel effects, to expanding Circles of light and yet this centre piece of night time display was all but invisible in daylight. After taking all this in, we made our way down to our cabin as the temperature was becoming (as they say in this part of the world) a bit nippy. We had hardly got into our cabin before we heard some huge cheers and when we went out onto the balcony and looked down, it seemed like the whole of Yokohama had come out and packed themselves on to the roof of the terminal to welcome us. Large numbers of them with light sabres and wands, those that didn’t, had torches or mobile phone lights and they were all waving them like their lives depended on it. Cheers went up with each rope that crossed to the quayside. We were amazed that anyone would come out at midnight let alone the crowds that had turned up here. Everywhere we looked there was someone shouting Hello! Welcome! Or Konichiwa. We finally had to go or we would have been there all night.

Up first thing the following morning, we looked out again and yes you’ve guessed it the roof of the terminal was still awash with people. The same or new ones we knew not, but the level of interest had diminished not a jot. The International Passenger Terminal is a very deceptive undulating building which seems to be construct entirely of wooden planking reminiscent of ships decks. Entrances were well disguised as they sloped and curved around the structure. A lot of the roof was turfed and many people were sitting there with their children playing around them. On the port side of the ship was the main part of the city where modern buildings were nestling in amongst some of the older buildings like the old brick warehouses that have now been converted into shops restaurants and offices. The modern buildings were sympathetically designed unlike other large cities. The Intercontinental Grand Hotel was shaped like a huge liner and the shape of the Landmark tower like a huge square traffic cone, this by the way is Japan’s tallest building. The city is very compact and attractive with lots of green areas, a lot of these on the roofs of some of the single story buildings around the port.

We waited until the tours departed before we disembarked, most of these were going to Tokyo with one going to Mount Fuji neither of which we fancied and from the reports from the people on their return it seemed like we made a sensible decision. We left the ship directly into the terminal which was huge and very cleverly designed. Traffic entering at the far end of the Warf disappeared below the building into cavernous car parking areas and above these were that halls for arriving and departing passengers. We walked off the Warf straight into the city towards the stadium where there were landscaped gardens, the weather was perfect for walking, warm bright spring sunshine and cool air temperature. The waters in the gardens were populated by Koi Carp and large terrapins sunning themselves on rocks set in the pools, one of the nicest things about these gardens were the groups of tiny tots being led around by their carers. Each carer held the hand of a tot on each side and each tot held the hand of another tot, behind each carer were three individual pairs of tots holding each other’s hands, no crying, no problems and their age? They looked to be about eighteen months to two years old, they were all wearing identical coloured baseball caps, some groups in pink caps some in yellow etc. It would never be allowed in the UK but it was a delight to see.

We moved on into China Town and wandered around this immaculate area for about an hour, before ending up on the edge of the bay in the Yamashita Park, this is a two kilometre immaculately landscaped area with fountains and tree shaded paths which led us back towards the Passenger Terminal. As we passed it, crowds were still pouring into the area, the ship has certainly attracted a huge amount of attention. We followed the walk over some green hillocks which turned out to be the roofs of the buildings below and all along this area were people taking photographs and dozens painting pictures. We walked through into the central district and everywhere they had converted the old infrastructure into new. Old railway lines used in the old docks were now landscaped footpaths. Old docks had been filled in as part of land reclamation and were now pedestrian precincts, as space is at such a premium here you can’t help but wonder how they have prevented development on much of this land and used it as a public amenity. By now we had completed a circuit of what is quite a compact city and forced our way through the crowds pouring on (and off) the quay.

You begin to have some slight understanding of what people in the media eye go through as all passengers were being photographed by the crowds and when Carol was out on the balcony people were shouting up to her to get her to wave for photo’s. We went up to the Lido having a late lunch/early tea and looked down at the mêlée below where they were preparing for the celebrations for our departure. On an oblong of black matting a group of about ten Japanese were consulting notes and laying green gaffe tape out to precise measurements. We watched as they started to lay out little white tubes it took about two hours to complete and it turned out to be a message to us “Bon Voyage” and underneath “Yokohama” we thought that’s an awful lot of effort for those three words, until they started to light hundreds of candles, one in each tube. The effect was fantastic (photos on the way internet permitting). By now you would think that things would be quietening down, not a bit crowds were still pouring on we wondered if the roof would stand the strain. I went down to try and upload photo’s using the WiFi in the terminal, and as usual had to ask a Japanese girl on the WiFi stand for help. She and a friend of hers took me down to the far end of the hall where they said it was quieter! I wasn’t sure what they meant until I realised that they were talking about WiFi traffic. Then using a card they bought with them they asked for my phone, pressed a myriad of buttons, giggled, bowed, gave me the phone back saying “you OK” now. I still don’t know if I managed to get any back, but it was a delightful diversion.

Before I went back on board I wandered up to the roof to mingle with the crowds to see what it looked like from their perspective, Carol was not on the balcony or I would have shouted up in a suitable accent “Cawol Smile” but she wasn’t. We had to sail bang on time to get under the bridge again. So after dinner we went up on deck to watch our departure. The crowd was in high spirits and there were lot of shouts between them and the ship. Carol went down to watch from the balcony (it was cold), but I wanted film of hitting the bridge (if we did). We pulled away with the usual blasts from the ships horns loud cheers from the shore and as we pivoted to head for the bridge I clambered up to the position I was in when we came in. This time we reached the bridge quite quickly and we went for it at a faster pace than when we came in (captains confidence?) but again it looked very tight. This time there were crowds on the bridge and a lot of shouting between people on the ship and people on the bridge. We again slipped under with barely an inch to spare confirmed by the shouts from the people watching from the bridge who were also convinced we were going to hit with the very top of the mast, but we didn’t and so we slipped away down through the deserted industrial part of the city and out to another day at sea, prior to Kobe.

Friday 28th & Saturday 29th March

The alarm rang at 6.00am and we awoke to be greeted with thick fog and the ships mournful fog horn sounding every two minutes. One hour later, showered and dressed but not breakfasted, we were up on deck for our arrival in a very foggy Hong Kong. Slightly early and with the fog horn reverberating off the sky scrapers on both sides of the harbour we made our way slowly passed the old Kai Tak airport, up between the Star Ferry terminals, did a handbrake turn and side slipped into number one berth at Ocean Terminal. From our cabin we look down onto the Kowloon ferry terminal and across to Central District Hong Kong side.

We disembarked into the Ocean Terminal after breakfast and for a city that changes on an almost daily basis the Ocean terminal has remained much the same as it was when it was built in the mid-sixties, on the outside that is. On the inside it has changed beyond all recognition. From an almost market stall layout with a hotchpotch of shops selling anything from local foodstuffs to silver and gold, it has gone to a sophisticated themed designer goods Mall with good WiFi. I say good, it still has a restricted speed to stop people using it for interactive games, which can be frustrating when you are downloading videos and even photos take quite a time. (The best speed I ever downloaded was when a helpful Radio Shack manager keyed in the shops password and everything went ballistic, all the photos waiting to upload started to upload simultaneously and were all gone in seconds).

Anyway we were going to review Honk Kong side, so we caught the Star Ferry to Wanchai, one of my old haunts which used to be just one street back from the harbour, but is now getting on for half a mile back due to land reclamation. It was just as busy as it always was, however, of the old Wanchai, only the street names remain the same, ghosts of bygone days. All the bars, all the street stalls, and all the girls who used to drape themselves around the doorways (and any unsuspecting sailor). All Gone! Not a single bar, not a single street stall and not a single girl (all married to sailors now I guess). The bars are now posh designer shops, the streets are now clear of clutter and full of earnest business men and women in smart suits busily going about their business. No one shouted Hey! Johnny! You want nice girl? once. Just as well those days are gone I suppose. It was a time when the streets were full of young fresh faced sailors looking for a good time in the few days they had ashore, not for old sailors with a nostalgic tear in their eye for the old days. We traversed the three or four roads that made up the area, looked at each other shrugged and headed for Central. Carol had also experienced some of those days with me, as we regularly wandered down there in the early seventies soaking up the atmosphere. It was here she first experienced the “Hey! Johnny! You want nice girl?” being shouted at me even though she was with me. After the first time, she ceased to be surprised, it was all part of the night street repartee and it kept her on her toes. 😉 We abandoned our plans to return that evening, as it was obvious that the area would not be the same and it would be even more poignant at night.

Central, by contrast, was still easily recognisable. Though posher, flashier, with buildings three to four times the height and many more elevated pedestrian walkways. It was still the same old Central, Business men talking importantly and frantically to each other as though their lives depended on it (mostly now on mobiles though). Limousines gliding into and out of underground car parks with elderly mandarins sitting in the back behind smoked glass, helicopters buzzing in and out. It was all the same only more so, (the only part that was exactly the same was the cenotaph) we loved it.

With legs feeling a good two inches shorter, we made our way to the Star Ferry past more harbour reclamation work and sailed back over to Kowloon. We had some tonic to buy. The weather had gradually improved from the slightly chilly morning fog that shrouded everything, to light grey skies and a gentle warmth. Kowloon was throbbing and we made a short foray up Nathan Road, found a supermarket that sold tonic, then made a detour back to the ship through the rear entry of Harbour City leading into Ocean Terminal thus avoiding the ‘you want nice suit? and you want nice watch?’ touts who by now were out in their hundreds clustering around the main entrance. We wanted to watch the ‘Symphony of Lights’ which, for those of you who are not aware, is an amazing spectacle involving most of the lights on both Hong Kong side and Kowloon dancing and changing colour to music played over loudspeakers, linked at intervals with laser beams. We checked for details of the time etc with the tourist information office and found that the music was broadcast on FM 103.4 mz, so we decided to watch it from the ship. This meant we would have time to go down to dinner immediately afterwards. We took our mobiles up to the Commodore lounge, ordered drinks and sat and waited. Right on cue the music started and the lights began to pulse along with it, the only problem was the mist was coming down again and whilst it didn’t obscure the lights, it did dim them and somewhat disappointingly the routine was exactly the same as five years ago. It was worth seeing again though and especially as this time it was in the comfort of a bar overlooking the harbour.

Down to our last dinner with Maxine and Bill, who are disembarking here and flying back to Brisbane after a few days extra stay in Hong Kong. Our table will now be repopulated by the new people joining tomorrow.

Saturday morning bought us with the fog (would you believe) rain. We seem to take it everywhere, we must have our own personal cloud like that cartoon character, because weather was hot 28°C and sunny, right up to the day before we arrived. Only showers I said, so after breakfast off we went to wander old haunts on Kowloon side. As we made our way up into what used to be the market area past the old marine police HQ (now open to the public) the rain had stopped but instead of getting brighter it was growing increasingly darker. So much so that the street lights were coming on, just as it seemed that it couldn’t get any darker there was a flash of lightening and crash of thunder and the heavens opened. It’s times like this you need shopping malls and everyone else was thankful too, they were packed. For all the designer shops there are in Hong Kong there is no shortage of shoppers and we wondered what the average monthly salary is. Everywhere we looked there was wealthy well-dressed shoppers busily spending like there was no tomorrow. The one big difference from the seventies is there are very few poor people now whereas they used to be the majority. They have either got rich or been moved out of the area. We spent quite a lot of our time being swept along on a tide of people all carrying designer carrier bags most of them young teenagers. The tourists just stood looking bemused.

Anyway we made our way back on board together with the 900 new passengers. The departing passengers were a mixture of Japanese and Australian the new passengers are mostly Brits and some Chinese. We watched the symphony of Lights again on the Balcony this time, everything was much clearer as there was no fog. You could hear the music on shore and the people partying over on Hong Kong as we sailed about fifteen minutes later through the harbour. The harbour side lights were incredible, not as subtle as Manhattan more garish or ‘in your face’ like Blackpool, but more sophisticated if you see what I mean, not to be missed for all that. At dinner we had five new people two couples from the UK and an American guy who has been on for the world cruise but changed tables four times, for various reasons. Will probably find out more about them all tomorrow. That was about it for Hong Kong one of the jewels in the crown. Day at sea tomorrow.

Thursday 17th April

Today dawned a Hot! One. We left the ship at 8.30am and the temperature was already in the low thirties, promising to hit the high thirties by midday, which it did.

We were destined to sail up the narrow waterway between the Corniche and a manmade island in an old fashioned Arab dhow. It was probably the best way to see the cityscape as many of the buildings were too high to appreciate from immediately beneath them. We boarded our dhow and took a seat in a gazebo on the bow whilst an old fashioned siren sounded to signal our departure. We were served fresh fruit smoothies and tiny sandwiches as we sailed along the waterfront, all very civilised. The Corniche is effectively a long park stretching for 7km along the waterfront and it is impressive, dotted with fountains and palm trees. The first fountains we passed were harps, the strings were water. But the buildings as a backdrop were equally impressive. There were so many shapes it is hard to know where to begin. There were competing for who could have the most original top, square tops were out, too boring, pointy, curved, scalloped, domed, wedged, you name it they had it. The same with the finishes on the buildings, this year metallic finishes are in, copper, emerald green, ice blue, steel blue, gold, aquamarine, all reflecting the sun like massive jewels set out for sale. Then there were the shapes, some were close to conventional but not many. One building was designed to look like a folded newspaper (pink of course), it was the Investment Authorities building. There was one with what looked like a big hamburger on top; the meat? black windows concealing a rotating restaurant, another looked like a huge pile of beer mats that someone had pushed in the middle, one was a set of stairs going nowhere and two were like giant sausages with the top sliced off at an angle. Another was leaning like the foundations were giving way, many had huge balls as part of the structure (Stoppp It!). My favourite was one that looked like someone had used a huge ice cream scoop to take a piece out of it and there was a ball that looked like it was rolling down the scooped out bit. It was an architect’s paradise, no building was older that thirty years old, we were told that as soon as a building reached twenty-five, plans are drawn up to pull it down.

We then went down to seafront that looked out over the small bay. On the other side was the sultan’s palace in pristine white marble with white domes picked out in gold glistening in the sun like it had just been pulled out of its box. A short distance away was the Emirates Palace Hotel in red marble with similar domes picked out in gold. This hotel is used for government and sultan guests. The red marble is to remind the sultan of the desert sand, but the sand on the beach in front of the hotel was pure white. Apparently the desert sand clashed as it was not an exact match for the red marble, so they decided on a sand that contrasted, it was shipped in especially, from the Maldives. Just shows what can be done when money is no object.

Finally we were dropped at yet another massive mall, this time sitting under huge Arab tents, the entire structure air conditioned. Miles of shops with polished marble walkways on three levels where one can easily get lost huge computer controlled water features in the crossover junctions and yes Carol found a Marks and Spencer (photo evidence supplied) her excuse? I just wanted to see if the same frocks would be in the UK when we get back and see what the prices are here, hmm, withdrawal symptoms more like, good job there’s no Tesco.

We drove back along the Corniche we had sailed past and close up it looked even better, everywhere was pristine and it was easy to think that everywhere was wonderful. I asked the guide about working conditions here and she said that the people with lower paid jobs had to live in workers hostels and were not allowed to buy or rent in town, health care was excellent (but health insurance was compulsory and the level of excellence depended on the level of cover), so perhaps not quite the utopia portrayed on the front cover. When we arrived back there was a local hawk handler who insisted that Carol sat down whilst he handed her a beautiful hawk to hold, nervous at first, she really took to it and was a little reluctant to hand it back. We finally staggered back on board and sipped our drinks on the balcony as we sailed for Dubai, (another disadvantage, booze is frowned upon) and we stayed there until darkness was well and truly descended.

Friday 18th and Saturday 19th April

Today dawned bright and clear and as we manoeuvred to begin our approach through the channels to Dubai. We could see the low lying man-made islands that lay off the coastline. Once again we looked out on a very low lying coastline with its display of high rise buildings. One unusual aspect of this coastal approach were the brilliant blue-white lights that shone out at us from various points along the shore. I thought at first that they were electric arc signalling lights of the type used on board warships, which double as search lights because of the intensity of the light. It slowly became apparent that this was in fact the sun rising behind us and reflecting back from the glass façades of the buildings on the horizon. Dubai has a more spiky or pointy outline than Abu Dhabi and as we drew closer we could see the more prominent (and famous) buildings begin to come into focus. The most famous of which is of course the Burj Al Arab but almost as prominent, though further inland, were the Emirates Towers and the Burj Khalifa. It is a much more spectacular sea approach than Abu Dhabi. Entering the cruise terminal basin we could see outlined on the reclaimed land opposite, plots for new high rise hotels and buildings which will form the new cruise terminal. Landscape planting of the gardens and palm trees had already begun even though not one brick had been laid, what a contrast to building work in the UK where the building is constructed first and the landscaping carried out almost as an afterthought.

Once berthed we had plenty of time for breakfast as transport for our seaplane flight was not due to depart until 10:00am. We went down to the terminal at about 09:45 and on the dot we picked up in a luxury Mercedes minibus and smoothly whisked away through Dubai to the Park Hyatt Hotel which was part hotel part luxury apartments, its grounds swept down to the inland waterway where our aircraft was moored at a small jetty. Prior to boarding we were all photographed individually (or in pairs) on the jetty. We were told that this was for a souvenir photo / certificate, I didn’t say anything to Carol (she was nervous enough), but the thought crossed my mind that it was for identification purposes should we end up embedding ourselves in one of the many high-rises we would fly round/between. Our extremely personable pilot Andy welcomed us aboard (with a slight antipodean accent) and said the escape routes would be demonstrated by the two guys outside the aircraft as there was not enough room inside. As we were sitting at the front, we had to rely on the people at the rear to remember what was said because it seemed a rather complicated arrangement of a top gullwing and a lower step door clipping together. It was an eight seater aircraft and each seat had a window. Once airborne we could move around inside the cabin if we wished to take pictures out of the opposite windows. After being told what the flight plan was and shown where we could find our laminated maps, we strapped ourselves in and Andy wound up the turbo prop. We watched in fascination as he flicked switches on the huge panel in front of him and various images of dials and barcharts flashed momentarily on the video displays in the centre of the console.

The frequency of the turbine had reached and then exceeded my range of hearing when he reached down between the two front seats and pulled a leaver. Immediately we heard the deep growl of the prop beginning to bite the air and we surged forward away from the jetty. Our speed increased until we were almost flying as we taxied down to where we would start our take off. The buildings either side flashed by and what amazed me was Andy could not see out of the front windows above the control panel, partly because of the angle of the plane and partly because he was as short as I am. He looked out of the side window as if he too was enjoying the ride. After what seemed an age the revs slowed and we settled down into the water again, Andy then turned to us and said with a grin “well that’s it folks welcome back and I hope you enjoyed your flight”.

A few moments later after we had turned around (done a one eighty as the jargon has it) and were facing back down the water. We watched again as Andy flicked a few more switches, muttered into his microphone, the whistle increased again, this time at a much faster rate until it reached its crescendo roar and the hand went down again to the lever. Up it came, the growl this time had a more serious gravelly bite to it, the surge forward pushed us well back into our seats and we noticed that Andy now had both hands on the column, hanging on as if his life depended on it, (which I guess it did, ours too). We accelerated up to what seemed a phenomenal speed, buildings, trees, cars flashed by, we zipped under a couple of bridges, no I made that bit up, but the banks were so close it wouldn’t have surprised me. Spray was flying up from the skis and the ride was as smooth as silk as we lifted up. The ground fell away rapidly as we climbed to about fifteen hundred feet before banking sharply away towards the coastline.

It was Carol’s first trip in a small plane and those first few robust manoeuvres were a bit disconcerting, but within minutes the views beneath us totally absorbed her. Andy flew a course which allowed both sides of the cabin the same views, timing his turns so that we were in a perfect position to take our time taking photos. However with the aircraft banking so sharply, the people on the opposite side of the cabin had almost as good a view as the ones next to the window on the inside of the turn. We flew up the coast with views of Dubai’s buildings on one side and the islands on the opposite side. We then returned over the sea performing lazy snaking S turns and circling, first clockwise then anti clockwise. Close enough to see people on the ground stare up at us staring down at them. Past the world which had only a few islands occupied with villas and landscaping, the remaining islands just barren sand dunes. The world islands are protected by a huge circular breakwater which overlapped at the entry point, making it difficult for the postman to find. The palm was almost fully developed with only a couple of empty fronds. The scale of this development is almost beyond comprehension as we looked down and saw just how many villas were on each frond, the design such that each villa has a huge private beach. We then headed inland circling the buildings many of which towered above us. Then further on looking down on the various race and golf courses, all immaculately kept, before finally and rapidly losing height as we dropped back to the small strip of water we had left 40 minutes previously. We touched down so smoothly we were hardly aware that we were down, if it had not been for the spray zipping past the windows. I think we both agreed that this had been one of the best experiences of the cruise. We were then presented with our photo of departure and certificate to authenticate our flight. It was all over too soon and we were on our way back to the ship to prepare for our evening ashore at the ships world voyagers gala dinner cruisers dinner.

Showered and dressed in best bib and tucker we left the ship once more for the Madinat Jumeirah. As we arrived we joined the line to shake hands with the Captain and several other officers and dignitaries before availing ourselves of the hospitality available on the many silver trays circulating in the assembled guests. Whilst waiting for everyone to arrive we wandered around various distractions put on to amuse, like having your name written in Arabic and having tour photo taken with the various hawks being held by their handlers. It was more amusing to watch some faces as the birds were put on their wrists, because the birds themselves were so calm they could have been stuffed (they weren’t, by the way), but some people looked so terrified that you would think they had an alligator on their wrist. Further on I spoke to a lady who had her name written in Arabic and she asked how she could know it said what they told her it said. I told her you will never know, because it says, whatever you do, do not tell this lady what I’ve written here. The look on her face was a picture, so was the look on mine, as there were only four letters (or symbols) written on the card.

After an hour or so we made our way in to a huge hall where sixty or so round tables were set around a central stage. I can’t go through all the entertainment that was laid on, suffice to say it was lavish and continuous. Ranging from popular European songs, to whirling dancers with illuminated costumes. My favourite was the belly dancers, one lady came right up to where I was kneeling (filming!-stop it!) and mesmerised me. (See video). When I found my way back to the table Carol asked me why my eyes were rotating like Catherine wheels. But like everything, all good things have to come to an end and we eventually found ourselves outside warming up because Carol found the air conditioning a bit too fierce and as it was getting a late, instead of going back in we clambered aboard a waiting coach that was about to depart. The trip back was just as fascinating as the journey in, all the buildings in ‘Down Town Dubai’ were now festooned in their finest illuminations and seen close up, were more spectacular than from a distance. By any standard, it was a good night.

We were a tad late getting up the following day, but that was not too much of a problem as we were going to have a look at the various markets close by where we were berthed. We finally wandered ashore and grabbed a taxi into the spice souk. This was a fascinating veritable warren of narrow alleyways with tiny stalls many of which were packed from floor to ceiling with spices and herbs. Stall holders were only too willing to talk at length about all the different products and what they were used (or good) for, opening jars and saying smell this. Some were pungent some were sublime, I would have bought most of what was shown me if it wasn’t for that moderating influence, otherwise known as a wife. I did end up getting some vanilla pods which were as cheap as chips, even there I ended up getting half the quantity I originally wanted, as Carol said we are not going to use all that before it starts to go off.

We spent a couple of hours or more getting lost in this maze before walking back along the creek, we toyed with the idea of popping into the gold souk but we guessed from the few shops on the outside it would be the same as the others and as our legs were just about to drop off. So we made our way back to the ship sailing was early tonight and as I am late with this dispatch I’ll close for now.

[Video quality due to dad’s phone only sending low res versions to his cloud storage. I’ll replace them if I get my hands on the originals – Paul]

Tuesday 6th May

Today has been quite eventful, we were up at six to discover that we were already in convoy with Queen Victoria and Queen Mary albeit about 5 miles apart. Dawn was just breaking and we were still not into the River Trejo. A quick shower later and we were on the upper deck watching as the gap between the three ships narrowed and the sun finally showed itself over the horizon, a bright red molten ball shimmering in the still air and colouring the sky around it. After taking the obligatory photos, we went to breakfast and watched the shoreline slip by in the morning light which grew stronger and whiter by the minute.

Breakfast over and we were back on deck watching as Queen Victoria approached and then passed under the 25th of April suspension bridge (which by the way, is modelled on the San Francisco Golden Gate bridge), followed by us and finally Queen Mary 2. We sailed a mile or so further on up the river and then one by one we performed our turns, curtsied and sidled up to the quayside like shy debutantes at their ball lining up for inspection by their suitors. It was a quite spectacular, if sedate performance of three huge ships less than 100 metres apart turning with perfect timing; one, two, three. The sun still low in the sky set everything off, lighting the white superstructure of all three ships as if under a spotlight and the backdrop of houses on the hillside behind were also picked out, their bright colours intensified in the morning light. On the bridge, now some distance behind us, the windows of a crossing train reflected the sun so brightly, it looked as if someone was pulling a sparkling diamond necklace across it. There was no chance for a retake and it didn’t need one, Cunard stage-managed the whole show to perfection. The professionalism of the three commanding officers choreographing this display was superb.

The excitement of arrival was compounded by all three ships disgorging their passengers simultaneously and many piling into buses to take off on their trips, the remainder pouring down the road like a line of marauding soldier ants, pity the poor inhabitants, or perhaps not, we were welcomed with open arms, all their Christmases had come at once. More than ten thousand new customers in one day (there were three other liners in port as well as the queens (Rotterdam, Ruby Princess & Silver Sea), Bonanza! But they were welcoming, didn’t pester and products they were selling were of decent quality. We walked into town because the lady marshalling the shuttle buses told us with refreshing honesty that the traffic was so bad it would be quicker to walk and as it was only a fifteen minute walk we (along with 80% of the queue) decided to walk. We spent five and a half hours walking round the Lisbon highlights eventually finding our way right at the top of the town looking down on the river in the far distance. The weather had been getting steadily hotter until it peaked at 28°C so we were glad that the walk back was downhill and under those huge trees that form a tunnel canopy over the central gardens. When we got back to the old town we stopped at one of the hundreds of street cafés and had a bite to eat and a beer while watching the thousands of tourist pass by, both on foot and in the many buses hired for the fleet. The weather and the occasion combined to make it one of the most enjoyable ports of call. We were back on board just past half three, ready for our grand departure at five.

If we thought we had seen everything during our morning arrival we were in for a surprise, because after a short delay waiting for Queen Mary 2s late day trippers, the signal was given and all three ships let go ‘almost’ simultaneously. We watched Queen Mary 2 let go and as soon as a gap appeared between her and the quay, we let go, and the same thing with Queen Victoria. The three of us pushed sideways off the quay and as each ship started to move it gave three blasts on the ships horn followed by a single blast. We manoeuvred sideways out into the main channel and then slowly moved ahead. All three ships packed to the gunnels with flag waving passengers cheering their heads off, then out of all three ships loudspeakers blasted Sister Sledge ‘We are family, I got all my sisters with me’. Then we lined up in staggered formation, (so we looked nose to tail from shore side) and slowly made our way downstream. Other music included pieces like ‘Hearts of Oak’, ‘Rule Britannia’, ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ stirring stuff, it certainly caused a stir ashore and we had the obligatory helicopter hovering over us and making many low level approaches. The other three liners in port had to wait for our departure before leaving, their passengers probably didn’t mind as they would have had the best view, though we had the best experience. It didn’t end there, after we had cleared the river, we manoeuvred into line abreast with Queen Mary 2 centre stage and less than 200 metres between us, we sailed into the sunset with the helicopter taking promo shots and videos until it was time to go to dinner, where we could still see the action through the dining room windows. Give Cunard their due, they know how to put on a display. By the way I noticed that Captain Wells (who captained us to San Francisco) is now in charge of Queen Mary 2, his blue ensign proudly fluttering between the two red ensigns either side.