Moths to a Flame - Part 10, St Kitts

 

Not much I can say about St Kitts, we didn’t get off the boat. The incessant rain squalls made going ashore a real test, even for the die-hards who were determined to ride the old sugar mill train around the island. With the huge Celebrity Equinox docked next to us, we had created a wind tunnel that occasional roared down the pier, blowing umbrellas back over the heads of tenacious passengers headed toward the security gate at least several hundred yards away. Every time the wind-lashed rain subsided, people would make a mad dash for shore but many got caught between the ships by gusts that could almost knock them over. They were all soaked to the skin, regardless of what rain gear they had on. Many had absolutely nothing but the ship’s courtesy umbrellas. Many passengers just gave up on the umbrellas and plodded forward anyway, dragging their useless, collapsed umbrellas behind them. They looked like they had been sprayed with fire hoses. Ilse and I put our feet up and watched dryly from several stories above.

Several stories above us, several Frigatebirds soar easily, effortlessly, sometimes hovering motionless directly overhead in the stiff wind between the ships. I’m surprised as the five or six birds are obviously using the weather to their advantage, but I can’t help but wonder what it is. We’ve seen them in every port we’ve visited and they usually stay with us until we are well out of port. English sailors called them Man-O-War birds. Most passengers on our boat simply call them  “birds.”  

It had been a gray, dismal morning as we approached St Kitts at daybreak. Heavy rain showers were scattered across the entire horizon and the weather after breakfast did not improve. Two men sitting on the huge concrete, anchoring pillar, in the harbor fifty yards behind our boat, sat huddled together against the foul weather, waiting for the ship’s lines to be thrown to them. I lost track of them for a few minutes in one of the rain squalls even though they were wearing yellow raincoats. There was no way to get on or off the pillar except by boat, and with the waves crashing constantly against their open, concrete, man-made island, I couldn’t help but wonder if they had on life vests. They were out there for over an hour and were drenched three times.

Getting to St. Kitts was different from the other overnight cruises. I watched our position during the evening and noticed the Captain was just killing time. The distance from Antigua to St. Kitts is less than sixty-five miles, so we sailed away from St Kitts for several hours before we turned and sailed back toward the island. The first time I looked we were thirty two-miles away, then thirty-eight miles, then after we turned around, we were down to thirty-three miles from our second-to-last island visit. Secure in the knowledge we were finally headed toward the right island, I went to bed.

Our balcony was protected by the Celebrity Equinox moored across the pier from us. Our sister ship was taking the brunt of the tropical storm force winds blasting the other side of the ship, but also oddly creating a strange wind tunnel between us that relentlessly rain-whipped the passengers who tried to walk on the pier. A great time to read and write, and occasionally tour the boat to see if we had missed anything.

Reviewing my notes from our visit to Antigua the day before, I decided – don’t ask me why – to add up the population of the five cruise ships simultaneously docked yesterday in St Johns. The cumbersome Seaview can carry five thousand, two hundred passengers, which is quite an impact on a town with a population of only twenty-two thousand people. The rather small Grandeur of the Seas carries another one thousand, ninety two and the even smaller Saga Spirit of Adventure, another boutique cruiser, only carries nine hundred and ninety nine. The smallest was the Azamara Quest, the pinnacle of boutique cruising. She only carries six hundred, ninety passengers. Add that to our capacity of two thousand, two hundred and thirty one and you have well over half the population of this port city, which is larger than most ports. If we had been full, as is usually the non-COVID case, there would have been almost eleven thousand oddly dressed tourists wandering around the town falling off sidewalks or taking tours to a short-lived, prepaid trip to nirvana of some sort. Just a different view of the cruising industry and why it has become so important to certain Caribbean countries.

Ilse stops in front of a painting of a tree in winter in one of the main foyers. She doesn’t have to say a word. I take a photo of the artwork which is mounted upside down. We wonder how many people notice the playful exercise in observation. Even better, while strolling forward toward the heliport, we met a steward, busy rearranging his cart after servicing a cabin. I stopped to look at a large color photograph of a young girl wistfully, almost tearfully looking back to her left, hanging next to his cart.“

"Do you know what she is looking at?” asked the young steward.

“No, not really,” I answered. “What do you think she is looking at?”

“I know what she is looking at,” he replied. “Go to the other side of the ship, in the same position as this and you will see the answer.”

Ilse and I walked across the next passage and down the corridor to the same position, exactly across from where we were. A photograph of a young man, obviously by the same photographer, looking back remorsefully to his right hangs in the exact spot. 

We wonder if there are more Easter Eggs, as they are called, on the ship. We are not impressed with the art available in the ship’s art auction, but then again, we don’t cruise to buy art, but we are always curious as to how the ship’s decorators pick their choices for display. Most of the ship’s artwork and photographs are generally bland and unobtrusive, but there are some nice art pieces in the stairwells and foyers.

The rains subsided by late afternoon and by the time we cast off had drifted away completely. Staying aboard has been a relaxing, if uneventful, day and we decided to go top-side to watch our departure. A huge refueling barge that has been alongside us most of the day, casts off and slowly lumbers away from the docks.

Laughter and even plans about visiting echo between the two huge Celebrity ships. Crew members are yelling greetings to one another across the narrow gap that separates us. Many crew members have crewed together, and we found out later, there are even family members serving on several different Celebrity ships. We watch one young girl, dressed as a room steward, standing, talking on a cell phone as she vigorously waves to someone on the other ship.

As we silently move away, Ilse mentions we didn’t get to see any mountain tops while we were here, they were shrouded in clouds our entire stay. As if they were required by the tourist industry, a rainbow appeared just for our departure. Ilse takes a marvelous photo of Nevis Peak, on the nearby island of Nevis that sums up our memory here. Perhaps, some time in the future...  

After dinner, Ilse and I headed toward one of the normally mellow lounges amid-ships, and found people dancing in the lounge and corridor, but there was no music! A host slipped a headset on Ilse and one on me and gestured to dance, which we immediately did. We love to dance and the music was great. Once we had the headsets on, everything made sense and everyone was having a ball. The music played disco-style with no breaks or interruptions and finally after about the third or fourth song, I took off my headset and asked what the different colors beaming from the earpads meant. He explained the control knobs on the head set and showed me the volume and music selection options. There were different colors, one for each of the several different stations available. I laughed out loud, but no one heard me, they were all still dancing. Even Ilse, who had her headset set on blue, listening to oldie Rock and Roll. Mine was set on red. I was listening to Rhythm and Blues. We had been dancing for ten minutes to different music! We probably looked like idiots, but it didn’t matter, we were having a great time.

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-11-st-maarten.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 9, Antigua

 

Saturday morning breaks as an absolutely beautiful day. The sun shines over the town of St Johns as we slowly approach the docks in the protected harbor. It is day six of our cruise and the weather is perfect. There are already two ships at the docks, one comfortably tied to our right, and another that appears to be floundering off to our left. The one to our left is the huge Italian MSC Seaview and her thrusters are churning up the harbor into a coffee-colored anomaly in the usually blue Caribbean Sea. Exactly the opposite from the pristine waters of St. Croix. I have watched her for at least ten minutes and she hasn’t moved more than a few feet.

The small island in the US Virgin Islands just a stones throw from St. Thomas is St John. It is not St Johns. St Johns is the city on the island nation of Antigua and Barbuda, where we are. Those who read my stuff know now I’m a stickler for getting things straight because I don’t like people smiling while they think “This clown thinks he knows what he is talking about” while I make a fool of myself. I have heard the name of the island pronounced Antigwa and Antigah. I decide to ask the locals I meet onshore and ask how the natives say it. People may still smile at me but at least I know I lined up my ducks.

We tie up while the Seaview still hasn’t fully straightened out and wonder if her massive size has created a problem. That does not appear to be the case, though, as she eventually ties up alongside us in a comedy that could have been from Benny Hill. High up on the forward hull, a service door is open and the officers are yelling at the rope crew far below on the dock. There is confusion about which big, heavy line goes over which cleat, and the Italian crew, yelling as loudly as they can, with their heavy accents, only get shoulder shrugs from the confused dock crew far below. 

Finally, lines get switched to the crew’s satisfaction and all goes quiet in the man-made canyon between the huge ships. The Millennium is ready to discharge passengers by the time they finally get settled next door. Again, it is time for us to go to breakfast.

We exit the ship as painlessly as before, swiping our guest cards on the security station and watching our beautiful profile photos pop up on the security monitor. We stop to stare at the canyon created by the two giant ships before we amble through the de rigueur security station. As we get our bearings, we meet a woman we had met earlier in the elevator as we headed out. Nicely dressed in a blue, business-like pant suit, the woman who appeared to be about our age, complained endlessly during the short elevator ride about being charged by the pound for her luggage. I noticed she had everything with her, several carry-ons across her shoulders and towing a huge suitcase as she exited the elevator.

When we met her again, she was standing at the curb in a taxi-pick up area, staring up the street as a ship's officer stood quietly behind her, his hands behind his back as is common with European men. Ilse and I felt sorry for her as we expected she had to make an emergency trip home for some family reason or another. After we re-boarded later, we were told she had been thrown off the ship for using profane language toward one of the ship’s crew.

It is Antigah. Ahn-tee-gah, with the accent on the tee. We asked the security guards at the dock, and even though they stared at me like I had six heads, one of them finally laughed and said. “We call it Antigah, but we hear everything you can imagine. Have a good day.”

So, we did.

Once we left the dock area and stepped into the real world, reality reached out and slapped us awake. Christmas decorations have been surprisingly sparse in every port we’ve been to. It appears COVID has dampened enthusiasm everywhere. This is a busy town, but when I look back at the docks, I see why. There are two more cruise ships lining up behind the Millennium to dock. I strain to see where they are going to put them. There will be five cruise ships docked here at the same time. The locals are gearing up for the rush of tourists.

This may not be the forum to air my opinions about the lack of leadership in most third world countries, but in the thirty years we’ve been coming to the Caribbean islands, not much has changed. Most cities in the hurricane belt are just as crappy as they were the first time we were here. This is our first time time in Antigua, but St Johns is no exception. Within a block of the shopping zone, you can easily slip off the curb into a three foot deep hole with weeds growing out of it. There is no standard for anything here, especially safety, The sad part is they are no different than most other Caribbean port cities, although several towns, such as Nassau in the Bahamas, Willemstad in Curacao, and Oranjestad in Aruba would rate better than average. The average here is subpar by almost all American and European standards, so caution, extreme caution, has to be used when just strolling or walking, looking at the local sights. We dodged pipes sticking out of the road and sidewalks as well as pipes sticking out of walls at eye level. I’m sure the areas and resorts built especially for the tourist trade are designed to make foreigners feel at home, but if you decide to go au natural in the port towns, be forewarned. I tripped over a stub pipe sticking out of a sidewalk in Philipsburg, St Maarten, even though I was watching where I was walking! I missed falling hard on the pavement by mere fractions of an inch.

We decided to walk to St. Johns Cathedral, the Anglican church that dominates the town. In the hustle and bustle of street vendors and shops, we stopped and asked a local policemen who quite proudly gave us explicit directions to the church, although we were only three blocks away. The church is undergoing reconstruction so the main entrance had two-by-four timber laid across the steps to warn people to use a different entrance. Ilse and I wandered through the tombstones, looking at the dates that go back several hundred years before finally spending ten minutes in the church itself. In my opinion, visiting churches is an acquired taste, but this one’s history draws many visitors.

We wandered back through town using different streets, but decided it was time to kick-back on ship and enjoy another great lunch. The continuous beep-beep of the local traffic is again part of the atmosphere as everybody here seems to know everybody else, which is cool. Just mind numbing.

I take a photo of a sailing sloop, probably thirty-two feet long or so, with its broken mast forlornly drooped across the stern. It is swinging slowly around its mooring buoy. She’s several hundred yards in front of the newly arrived Azamara Quest, one of the newer, smaller, boutique class cruisers fast gaining popularity in the cruising world. The disabled sloop just in front of her belies the story of someone’s broken dreams, not just a broken mast. That would be a story of its own.

I glance up as an Airbus with its wheels down, flying just off the side of the ship, throttles back while I’m daydreaming about the sloop. Airliners coming from who-knows-where begin to approach the airport, their flight pattern parallels our dock. I count seven in a ten minute period as I sit with my gin and tonic, my feet propped up in absolute, decadent pleasure. Perhaps someday we’ll fly in to one of the islands, but for now, the Celebrity Millennium will do just fine.

Tonight turns out to be one of those memorable nights that go in scrapbooks. We finally had dinner with Dany and Seba of Supernova Duo.

It also was a full moon. A Caribbean cruise with a full moon should be on everyone’s bucket list.

St Kitts 

 https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-9-st-kitts.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 8, St. Croix

 

Standing on the deck watching the island emerge in front of us in the breaking daylight was different from Nassau or San Juan. I could not pick out where we were going. There was no sign of a city or a pier or any place to dock. We seemed to be sailing toward green, rolling hills dotted with occasional houses with pastures scattered in between. Coming in on the leeward side of the island was a nice change from yesterday’s rough water approach in San Juan, adding to the peaceful, almost pastoral first image of St. Croix. The cruise since leaving San Juan has been slower, less hectic as St. Croix is less than one hundred miles away. By the time I see light traffic on the coastal road, I can see the single finger pier that juts straight out from the seashore. There is an old, unimpressive red fort off to the left side. After San Juan, two cars and a pickup truck is light traffic.

We quietly docked at eight in the morning, a new, single finger pier that would accommodate two ships at once. While the ship went through the arrival process, Ilse and I went for breakfast. This time we ate at the Oceanview café, the buffet style restaurant aft on deck ten. The selections of different breakfast foods is amazing and again, there are more servers than diners. I made a note to try coddled eggs next time.

There were only a few scattered passengers ahead of us on the pier as we walked to the security checkpoint, not anything like previous cruises. The atmosphere was exactly opposite bustling San Juan. As we walked toward the security tent at the end of the pier, I noticed the water was so clear we could see under the boat. Three young girls dressed in scarlet red local costumes welcomed us with bright smiles and maps of the island, and we were disdainfully waved through security with the priceless, limp-wristed motion famous around the world.

The second thing to catch my eye was they drive on the left side of the road. St. Thomas and St John, just over the horizon, also drive on the left even though they are in the US Virgin Islands, not the British Virgin Islands. The traditional beep-beep greeting between the locals is a common language in every Caribbean island, but the first time I heard it here, I turned around to look. There simply wasn’t any traffic. The souvenir shops in tiny Frederiksted – the town has fewer than a thousand people – all had bumper stickers for sale that said “Drive Left!” Obviously they were for tourists who rent cars and are not accustomed to driving in the islands.

Not that there were more than a handful of souvenir or tourist shops in town. With only a few exceptions, they all seemed to be owned by transplanted Americans. We were on the other end of the island from where the cruise ships used to land at Christiansted, a bustling metropolis by comparison of around three thousand people. The population of the entire island, world famous for its magnificent beaches is only 40,000 people. All the beaches in St. Croix are free to the public.

The pretty bay front park is a nice welcome to cruise passengers, and the backdrop to many ship’s photographs. 

Ilse and I have done package tours on previous cruises, but usually we like to see a place for ourselves the first time we visit a port, especially now with COVID restrictions in place on every island. We decided to avoid the little buses or taxis even though we wanted to visit the nearby botanical gardens, but it was too far to walk so we simply strolled around the small, odd little town. We were once warned in Charlotte Amalie about straying too far off the beaten path by ourselves, but here we are at ease. We are not carelessly unconscious as we always keep safety tucked in the back of our minds. I worked in downtown Miami for many years and old habits are hard to break.

The town itself drops in attractiveness within a few blocks, so we head back to the fort at the end of the pier, buying my first cap of the trip on the way. The people we chat with are friendly, but disappointed in the small size of the crowd.

I walked around the clock tower checking all four clocks after I noticed the two sides I could see were completely different. A perfect description of St. Croix: what you see depends on the direction you are looking, all four clocks show very different times.

We headed back to the ship for salad and pizza and my first Budweiser of the trip. After sitting on our balcony, reading and listening to our own music – we always bring a Bluetooth speaker – I glance at Ilse. She is sound asleep, holding her head with one hand and her Kindle in the other. There is no one on the pier except the ship’s staff idly waiting under the Celebrity Cruise logo sunshade. The three young girls dressed in bright red local costumes have abandoned their post and are all sitting in the shade of the security tent at the other end, chatting and laughing.

The helicopter landing pad on the bow is opened for our departure from Frederiksted, so Ilse and I, wearing the required close-toed shoes, climbed the ladder to the Helipad, wondering how they transport anyone who isn’t ambulatory up there in the first place. It is a wonderful view, especially as several rain showers began to move down the hills toward the bay. Drinks are served as everyone begins to ooh and aah at the rainbows that seem to be a departing touch from the local tourist board. The ship quietly turns and heads toward more rain showers off-shore.

After dinner we headed to the Sunset bar at the stern on deck ten, our favorite lounge at night. The weather is beautiful and the moon is almost full. Tomorrow is Antigua and a full moon. We can’t wait.

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-antigua.html

Moths to a Flame - Part 7, San Juan

 

Day four starts like the others, I’m awake before daybreak. Once again I’m on deck as soon as I’m dressed. A beautiful, warm December morning due east of Las Galeras, Haiti. Clear skies but the wind has barely subsided, it is still whistling through the railing. I checked my cellphone app for all the technical details that most other passengers couldn’t care less about. We are eight hundred and eighty-five miles from Ft Lauderdale and have only eighty-eight miles to go. We should pass the famous Castillo de San Felipe del Morro sometime around two in the afternoon. The afternoon is perfect as the sun will highlight the side facing the channel as we enter. This is, to me the prettiest and most symbolic port entry in the Caribbean, and this time our balcony stateroom will be facing the iconic fortress as we enter the harbor.

During the day we had the opportunity to chat and joke with our wait staff, shop sales people, and several ship’s officers. Everyone was masked all the time the entire cruise, so we quickly learned to read eyes. The eyes speak volumes, and we saw eyes from Indonesia, Venezuela, the Philippines, Korea, and just about any country you can think of. The eyes all speak the same language. We met another Daniela from Venezuela who now lives in Colombia, and still another Daniela who was from Chile, just west of Bariloche, Argentina, where Dany of Supernova Duo call home. We met Feliz, from Manila in the Philippines, who went to hospitality school in Arkansas. Our drink hostess, who was from Korea, told us all how to distinguish Asian nationalities as westerners are at a loss when it comes to the many different far eastern styles and features. “It’s how we cut our hair,” she said, her eyes dancing at her chance to tease our group. We were as at ease with them as they were with us. With only five hundred passengers on a ship that usually carries over two thousand passengers, everyone a chance to interact with other, passengers, crew and staff with a cordiality we had never seen on previous cruises.

I double checked the battery for my camera as well as our cellphones as we approached the coast of Puerto Rico, the mountains behind San Juan visible well before the port itself. The pilot boat approached on our port side – that’s sailor talk for the left side – burying the bow in the heavy swells. It passes and turns behind us to come alongside out of the wind on the other side of the boat. We’ve slowed considerably to allow the pilot to make the transfer, but seas are very heavy. Being on the leeward side makes it easier, but not by much.

A deep-sea fishing boat, probably in the thirty-two foot range, not more than a mile away, disappears from sight regularly in the deep troughs, only its outriggers visible above the waves. We watched the small boat for several minutes wondering just how much Dramamine it would take to go fishing with them.

Old Town San Juan was a marvelous surprise the first time we were here, and we planned our walking tour to include El Morro, but the sporadic rains started before we disembarked and turned into a constant reason to duck for cover. We did some sightseeing through parts of town in between rain showers, but cut our tour short and headed back to the boat. If you want to find a drugstore, all you have to do is watch for the long lines as it seems that is the first place everyone from the ships go. The Walgreens at the foot of the pier does a bang up business every time a cruise ship docks. The first sign you see when you step onto the pier is a warning sign about the one hundred dollar fine for failing to wear a mask. Everyone in every store we stopped in was masked. The crew and staff of the boat were on a tight leash due to the COVID restrictions, and were restricted to crew members only outings.

We had dinner in the main dining room which was even emptier than usual. Dave, our waiter who has been with Celebrity Cruises for over eighteen years, welcomed us warmly as usual, our preferred drinks waiting as we were seated. The service on the Millennium is superb. To our unbridled relief, this cruise has been the perfect antidote to the last one we took some seven years earlier.

We were back on top by midnight to watch as we departed the brightly lit city. Another Celebrity ship, the Constellation, which joined us earlier along with Carnival’s Magic, shoved off just before we did. The two ship’s Captains did a long tete-a-tete with the ship’s horns to the delight of the passengers on deck. We were disappointed to find El Morrow is no longer well lighted at night and the marvelous structure is no longer dominate in the darkness as we sailed out the channel. No problem, we joined the dance party on the pool deck. Always a way to enjoy the moment. Definitely not a Geritol cruise.

Next: St. Croix

https://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2022/01/moths-to-flame-part-8-st-croix.html