Cadiz, Spain

Following on from the ‘left guests’ debacle in Casablanca, we did wonder whether we’d be late arriving back into Spain. However, our 10am arrival was as it should have been, so breakfast on the deck was accompanied by the view of a fellow Thomson ship in port (this one enormous and German; we looked a little pathetic to say the least). As we had eight hours in port, and weather in the mornings had failed us in the first few ports, we had decided to give ourselves a well-deserved lie-in (in hindsight, it seems we had quite a few ‘lie-ins’), with a view to heading out late morning/early afternoon (Cadiz was small, we were sure we weren’t going to miss much).

It was all very civilised. At about midday, we set off on the free shuttle bus from the ship to the port terminal... which took less than two minutes. Having walked for forty out of port in Casablanca, we were more than a little dumbstruck to say the least!

From the sun deck over breakfast, we had a-spied a cathedral, so as was becoming the habit, we followed the tower and headed off for an explore. This tower was located in no time at all, and in true British fashion we then joined the queue wending its way from the doors to have a look inside. However, once we had managed a sneaky peek through the door, we decided that the exterior was as good as it got so made a hasty escape and went instead to find postcards (that point in the holiday when you suddenly realise you haven’t sent any, so have a sudden desperate need for them).

Instead, we found ourselves t the bottom of a street that looked like it would lead us to a sea front, so we were drawn by the promise of a paddle. While the lampposts (and dare I say the reek of urine?) may have been reminiscent of Cromer, the colour of the sea, the bronzed bodies and unusual shells reminded us that we were in fact in Spain. Quick to take off our shoes, we rushed along the sand to dip our toes in the clear water... fresh!

Sand batted from our feet with scarves (they’re just so multi-functional), we went back the way we had come to have another go at a postcard search, and to perhaps make a stop for lunch while we were at it. Of course when in Spain, real Tapas is the order of the day (and Sangria, which was amazing, by the way!), so we sat ourselves outside a little café, where orange trees grew and nobody understood anybody (or maybe it was just us, but it all seemed a little... relaxed?). Sangria we managed to order no problem at all, then we made our tapas order and were later confronted with our order which can only be described as being for an excessive amount of food.

Having made an excellent attempt at a crazy amount of food, we were finally able to heave ourselves up in order to walk off the tapas babies we had gained. We found that Cadiz seems to be in some sort of horse-shoe, as we stumbled upon the ‘other side’ of the sea which was very beautiful; lots of garden, pretty benches and fish just below the surface of exceptionally clear water! From the sea, we wound our way back towards the main square as we were reminded of our postcard mission. Here we encountered my parents (even somewhere so small, bumping into familiar faces when on holiday is a very surreal experience) so stopped to exchange pleasantries and to take postcard shop recommendations before going on our merry way.

Having finally discovered a little shop with pretty postcards, we travelled back on the shuttle bus (a little embarrassed to admit that actually, but when one has been wandering all day... all afternoon?) for tasty dinner delights and the Baked Alaska Parade:

Starter – tuna & caviar

Soup – asparagus

Main – lamb shank

Dessert – chocolate walnut coffee cake & mystery sweet sugary things

After dinner was the usual cards accompanied by the Boros Duo and another glorious sunset for which we again risked our lives out on the slippery, blustery decks! Moonlight across the black water followed the sunset – which we witnessed from behind a curtain in our window seat whilst waiting for the Crew Talent Show (I’m not entirely sure whether other guests were impressed by our seating arrangement, but I was pretty content). You know you’re a seasoned cruiser when you’ve seen the same talents from the same crew members before. The belly-dancing barman was a new and welcome addition though... 

Lisbon, Portugal

After a rather late finish on Friday night (we couldn't have our Captain's Cocktail outfits go to waste, could we?), Saturday began at a perfectly reasonable hour in good time to explore Lisbon. And explore we did...

Upon first impressions, we were less than impressed. This was mostly due to the weather - over-cast and not particularly warm (despite the fact that the Pharmacy claimed that it was 22°C) - but also due to the abundance of 'shabby' and distinct lack of 'chic' that we were confronted with as we docked. 

Nevertheless, we headed for the promising sight of a large dome (bound to be a point of historic or geographic significance?) where we also located a huge flea market, already in full swing before 9am local time!

Curiously we wandered on, not entirely sure what it was we were expecting or wanting to see; up and down numerous stone staircases, along winding streets (many of which were beyond dodgy), round and round in circles we went. Finally we came to the Castelo de São Jorge (one of the few landmarks we knew we were expecting to find) and decided to buy 'student' tickets to have an explore of the ruins and a good view of the city. Our first day on land did not bless us with the best weather, so although we may have headed off in good spirits and a distinct lack of clothing first thing, by this point our tourist jackets (I like to think these are rather like alcohol jackets) were wearing off, so we retreated inside the café for hot drinks and Portuguese custard tarts – yum!

Through the haze and from the various 'Lisboa' postcards, we managed to make out some other landmarks while we were up there which we decided we should aim for once we had finished wandering along battlements (actually perhaps we were more ‘pinned to the inner walls of unsafe battlements through fear of tripping, stumbling and falling to our deaths’ than any romantic image of 'wandering' one may have created in their heads). Those landmarks were Praça do Commercio, trams and far, far in the distance, Marquês de Pombal.

Through our expert map-reading skills (it turned out that even my own father got lost in Lisbon’s ‘imaginative’ streets, so we shouldn’t beat ourselves up too much for this), we managed to circle the castle what felt like about five times in an attempt to move away from the old city with its creepy, hairy, elderly folk of questionable gender brandishing walking sticks to direct tourists back onto the beaten track, and instead to move towards the modern parts of the city with more... signs of civilisation shall we say?!

Eventually we succeeded in moving around and away from the castle and ended up following the map effectively for at least 3 'ruas', before going down one the wrong way for a little further than was ideal. Instead of getting too distressed however, we embraced sight-seeing opportunities, refused drugs, listened to a brass band attempting to play Daft Punk and, despite over-whelming intrigue, resisted the urge to join the world's longest queue for which to the human eye really was just a closed-off piece of road with a hole in the middle of the road (who knows?)... having somehow encountered and taken a few snaps of those all important postcard features as a-spied from the Castelo, we headed back in the right direction to make our way to the top of the city so we could continue our search for 'the big monument thing' - upon our return to the cabin in the evening, we discovered that said 'big monument thing' does not even appear on the map of the city that Thomson provide as they have obviously decided it is too far out for your average tourist (and upon returning home we discovered that the ‘big monument thing’ is actually 20km away from the port... no wonder feet were broken)... however, having accidentally left our Thomson map in the cabin, we were equipped with a proper city map, for those staying a while, courtesy of Lisbon tourist information services.

Again in true tourist style, having not got far along the road we realised it was time for food, so we stopped for a leisurely lunch at a Portuguese/Italian restaurant, accompanied by a guitar-playing busker, a political demonstration and a constant flow of men attempting to sell 'Ray Ban' sunglasses.. It’s difficult eating onshore when you know what you could be eating back on the ship , but we tried and enjoyed chicken, capers, olives, spaghetti and A LOT of oil and smoked salmon lasagne accompanied by a Super Bock and sat outside, determined to make the most of a less-than-ideal weather situation.

Full to the brim, it was probably a good job the monument was so far up the hill as it gave us a good chance to work off food in preparation for whatever treats the evening may bring.

Tourists and cyclists en mass, dodging traffic, posing for photos (the sun having finally made an appearance), assuming the role of photographer, and then practically gliding back down the hill in contrast to the struggle up it, we managed to make it to our checkpoint just in time to have to turn around and go back the way we came (with slightly less detouring) before the ship sailed off without us! We made it back on the ship with moments to spare having got utterly confused by HOW to get in/on!!

If there was to be one complaint about cruising, I could maybe go for spending a few more evenings/nights in ports of call (which I think is actually possible if you’re willing to spend a little more time and money). The problem with the late appearance of the sun was that we enjoyed very little of it, as although it was of course then sunny aboard, we were greeted again by the crazy winds, which do tend to bring with them a ‘slight’ chill. Nevertheless, we endeavoured to find a sheltered spot, and fortunately stumbled upon my parents who were just about to head to the restaurant for a spot of afternoon tea! We remained on our loungers for a respectable amount of time, but no sooner were all layers finally off (I say all layers, we began with MANY (so many and so black in fact, that my mother proclaimed that we looked like old Turkish widows on holiday) and wound down to bikini level) than we were on the move and our sunny, sheltered spot was turning into a shady nook. Horns were honking, cars were zooming across mighty bridges as we sailed underneath them (awesome experience), and Jesus was waving us goodbye.

So we returned to our window seat, where I was served a lager Shandy... horrendousness beyond all that is horrendous, but with PORK SCRATCHINGS (because they DO exist, and what’s more, they also SERVE them on board) to make a little of the sweetness go away! Bumped into ma and pa again, who were just on their way back to the cabin via the photo gallery, where were off to amuse themselves with photos of us shaking hands with the captain, eating lettuce and generally feeling very silly in front of the ridiculous backgrounds around the ship.

Dinner was such a palava that I’ve actually forgotten what we even ate. We were a tad late getting ready having been completely distracted by photos, and apparently a little lateness really throws waiters. Scenes were made, funny looks were given, but a lot of laughs were had.

After the madness that was Lisbon, an early night was in store for us all – so in true Lorna & Laura make an exit style, we marched off brandishing the evening’s wine bottle in search of an ice bucket for soothing broken feet and hot water for more general soothing before settling down to bed. Slept like a log.

Postcards to Norfolk

31 days ago I finally made the move to London!

A lack of blogging, Tweeting and Facebooking may well be a sign that life has just got that dis-interesting, but I'm hoping it's all or more to do with how busy I've suddenly become!

I've always loved to keep busy and thought I was already pretty good at it.. but over the past month I think I might have begun to learn what busy really feels like! This weekend I finally took a step back to view my new London lifestyle from the clearer air and slower pace that Norfolk provides (as well as SO MUCH SKY). I don't think I could have come from a more contrasting place, and it was certainly entertaining to observe the comparisons!

A lover of life and someone with the ability to appreciate and admire beauty in almost everything and everyone, I stand in good stead for the time ahead of me in London!

Instead of feeling beyond guilty like I thought I would following a weekend where very little school-work has been attempted in comparison with the past few weekends spent in school (or at least with my laptop forming some kind of arm extension around the house and surrounded by laminating to be cut up), I am heading back to London with a clear head and a large dose of let's-do-this attitude and determination to get as far ahead of myself as possible (keep on dreaming over-enthusiastic Laura)! Teaching is HARD. But instead of moaning on about the trials and tribulations of my first month, I will just revel in the success of survival. Every day has been an adventure, and as soon as one days ends I can't wait for the next! The cynic in me is waiting for the novelty to wear off, but a big reason for my choice to teach was that there will never be a dull moment, and when working with children, there certainly never shall be!

Upon returning to my blog, I am suddenly aware that my move to London has rendered the address redundant. Instead of postcards (or realistically in this case, rambling letters) from Norfolk, I shall write postcards to Norfolk (and with my new found hectic schedule, postcards is exactly what they will be!). Expect awe at the magnitude of London from a young woman coming from a town where her house is the tallest building she knows, recounts of ventures into new parts of the city, and tales of my wandering into everything and everyone as I gaze in wonder at everything above and around me. It's going to be fun!

(First time written on my phone, I know I'm going to hate the layout when I reach a computer!!)

When someone asks me what I like to do, I always struggle to come up with an answer beyond shopping. Though oddly enough, I actually have quite a few interests – it’s just I’d probably call them ‘quirks’ instead, so don’t always openly admit to them.

Seems to me if someone starts a blog they usually have a theme, and I just wouldn’t be interesting or interested enough in writing if I was to stick with one thing! So maybe my theme is a multitude of themes?

I’ve just started a PGCE, so the urge to ramble on about school children’s amusing tales and adventures is overwhelming. Yet at the same time, I’m determined not to become one of these people who can only talk about my career; although I’m sure I’m not always going to be able to contain myself...

So then there’s music. But would that be me as a musician or as a listener? I started playing my first instrument when I was 6 and I’ve worked my way through 7 instruments to finally settle as a singer, oboe player, and pianist. I’ve just graduated from a music degree but no, my PGCE is not leading towards me becoming a music teacher. As a music listener, my taste is pretty eclectic but when it comes to genres I’m pretty flummoxed – so I can talk about what I like and love and maybe even why, but I certainly can’t talk about music with much wisdom.

How about travel? I’ve done a fair bit of that! But then is that only interesting as and when you do it? Currently a blog would be consumed by my turmoil over potential travel plans for the coming summer – would I rather go here or there? Who would I like go with? When am I going to go? Will I actually have any money left?

Then of course I’m an avid foodie, but I’d rather do the eating than the cooking. I’m a huge lover of vintage clothing and antiques, but again I know absolutely nothing besides the fact that I should have been around in the 80s and that vintage tea sets look pretty. I love tea and teashops and most things quintessentially British like the trips to the seaside in all weathers, romps in the woods, wellington boots and bonfire night, but how much is there to say beyond, ‘Enjoyed a spot of Earl Grey at Biddy’s tearoom to warm the cockles after battling the wind and rain on the coast’?

Actually though, rambling on about what I’m not well informed enough to ramble on about has given me some potential inspiration. Yesterday I found myself in an old shop that sold vintage postcards, stamps and coins, and I spent absolutely ages rummaging through them all, reading the messages on the back from ladies called ‘Carrie’ and ‘Ivy’ from the 40s and 50s. It brought me to realise that the art of writing a postcard really has been lost. Most of these cards were written for the purpose of delivering simple messages alerting friends to their presence in the town,

‘Dear Mavis, expect me for tea on Thursday afternoon. In Norwich for the week. Love, Dorothy’.

Nowadays they’re an excuse to boast about how wonderful, jam packed and valuable an experience your holiday is, and the picture on the front bears very little resemblance to what you’ve actually seen! Seeing postcards used for such a basic purpose seemed really sweet to me.

So, a decision has been made – my blog, effectively a selection of virtual postcards containing the small pleasantries one may or may not be interested in regarding the plethora of ‘quirks’ that encompass my days.