Travelergeoff’s Blog

We couldn’t actually anchor off the San Andres coast as the change in depth went from too deep to anchor, to too shallow for the boat’s keel, in just a few linear feet. Caption Smith kept engines running and kind of hovered in position for the time we were there.

We headed for shore about 12:15 PM after a 15 minute wait for the tender. From Journey to dock was close to a 20 minute tender ride. There was a lot of security throughout the whole “port” area, but everyone was sociable. Actually all the people we met on the island were friendly. At the end of our visit, as we left for the ship, each guard (at the guard’s initiation) shook hands with me and said goodbye.

Our tender group went to the gate and sort of milled around. We had no idea how to get to town, what the taxi rate was; indeed we didn’t even know the rate of exchange. The excursion desk has been quite slipshod in getting information to passengers who are not on tours.

We teamed with another couple, found a cab, and negotiated $5 per person to town, about a 20 minute drive. The cab let us off at one end of a promenade flanked by all kinds of shops. He pointed down the walkway and said, “The beach is that way.” As we walked towards the shops, owners were coming of their doorways. Were they coming to greet us? No, afraid not, they were coming out to lock up their stores. La Comida Horas were from 1:00 until 3 PM. Thanks Excursion Desk! Sorry about the inconvenience.

For those of you who follow this blog, you know that I always try to sample the popular local dish. In this case it was Rondon. The first cafes where I inquired had no idea what I was talking about. Michael, figured there’d be good restaurants at the beach, so we walked the empty mall. There was a lovely restaurant, sans Rondon. But, a waiter knew a place. He grabbed a cab for us, and the four of us were off to the Miss Celia O’neill Taste Restaurant.

All of us ordered from the funky menu, and my asking for Rondon brought a smile to the waitresses face. What is in it, you ask? Here we go:

Fish, snail, pig tail, breadfruit, yucca, and something called name with a funny symbol over the “n”. All of this in a coconut base. Was it good, you ask? My honest answer — .compared to what?

Our cab waited for us and it was back to the ship. This time $16 total.

We ate dinner at Prime C with Cruise Director Becky. She is not only a good CD, but a delightful dinner companion. it was a bit strange though; she had to excuse herself to go to the theater and introduce Jeff Nease, the comedian. I had to excuse my self and do a broadcast to The Cable Radio Network. We kept regathering at the table. She had to excuse herself to lead the applause at the end of Jeff’s show. Somehow it all worked out and the service and food was superb. In my book, it is now Prime C+.

Back to the cabin and international CNN. I am hoping that tomorrow we’ll sail into the footprint of CNN USA. What is life without Larry King?

There are two cities here. The old city built by the Spanish in 1586 and surrounded by a ring of massive walls. Modern metropolis describes the other. I often wonder when I see buildings that are close to 500 years old, how long the Canyon Country developments will stand.

“You’ll love this house, sir; it’s only 350 years old and has such a quaint heating system.”

There was a lot of noise outside our stateroom this morning. Movement of many chairs, hammering, and recorded music stirred us to sitting positions, and I took a look.

Most mornings we have ordered muffins, croissants and coffee from room service. This morning we went to breakfast. Wow, have we been missing out. There is a vast variance (my brother will grimace at that alliteration) of choice including but not limited to Southern fried peaches and cream bread pudding; egg in a hole; and a melt in your mouth baked banana thing. There is a sign naming each dish along the serving area, but none for the banana thing. Michael asked the server behind the counter what it was called. He said, “I have no idea!” nor did any one else. Except for the standard breakfast fare, eggs, pancakes, waffles, yogurt, and cereals, etc., the menu differs daily. From now on, it’s breakfast in the Windows Café.

When we got back to our cabin a crowd was gathering and filling the chairs. It developed that Miss Columbia was being chosen there were contestants from numerous cities, and the runway was long, and it was hot and humid. The first Miss something got lots of applause as she traveled to the end of the raised runway area and back. The last contestant of the numerous nubile nominees (hey Bro) got little recognition. You can’t clap and fan yourself at the same time.

Miss Columbia was picked, crowned, and the whole structure packed away before we set sale at 2:30 PM.

Security was omnipresent; however our port safe and sound security boat didn’t quite live up to its pretensions. Later in the day the “guard” was asleep in the bottom of the boat.

We had visited Cartagena before and Michael was shopped out, so I wrote while she took some photos. Later, I grabbed a brochure from the excursion desk and discovered a small duty free shop at the end of the pier. Although we had decided to stay on board, we took the shuttle to the shop just for something to do. Michael was not shopped out. It was fun, though, to see her negotiate 20% off at a fixed price venue.

The Restaurant Manager, when we asked about the dish of humus, butter, and red pepper pesto offered with different breads and rolls, said people had cut down on butter, but still wanted something for their bread. This is a brilliant solution. One bite of roll and Michael has emptied the humus.

We enter the Panama Canal tomorrow, drop off the tour takers (Bro); and then go back through the locks to tie up at Colon pier. There, according to my information, is the biggest shopping mall, well at least longest, for countries around. I hope Michael can sleep tonight.

As you may have noticed, I’ve changed fonts back and forth, and although this is a bit large, it shows up better for those who subscribe to this blog via email. Check out the box on the right to subscribe.Then, when I blog our next trip you will be alerted by email . (December 8^th from Barcelona to Galveston on Voyager of the Seas.)

Santa Marta is on the northeastern coast of Columbia at the foothill of La Sierra Nevada, the highest coastal range, 18,942 feet, in the world. It is an old city, founded in 1525, and quickly getting modern with its population of 410,000.

The brochure stated a fee of $3.00 each for a cab into town; $15 dollars each for a one hour tour. I went to the front cab in line and asked in my scrambled Spanish how much for a ride into El Centro.

Within 2 seconds the boss of the area was telling me it was $15 each. No, I just want to go one way into town I Spanglished. Several security personnel joined our little group. Boss said $15. I said 3, security argued amongst themselves and finally, in a split decision, settled on $15 each. I looked at the sawed off shotguns, stopped arguing and went out of the cab area, where we decided to take an hour tour in a bus for $10 each.

Our guide Ivan spoke English and was studying Journalism. Our other guide, Betty (not the ugly one she said), had limited English, but knew a lot about the areas we passed through. She would tell Ivan in Spanish what was out there, and he would tell us in English. The only snag was at our knees. All the bus seats were made for natives of Billy Bartyville. Most couples aboard could not sit together, and still be sure of blood circulation.

We found Santa Marta divided by a ridge into two main areas; the city of Santa Marta,

and a city which our guide Ivan pronounced three times. We still have no idea what it is called as he rolled “r’s” and about four other letters. It is where most tourists go, and the more wealthy Colombians have their homes.

But both areas have lovely beaches, the ones on the” rich” side have cabanas so that beach goers can escape the sun. It was 85 degrees with humidity topping 80%.

Security was, in all places, clearly evident; police, private guards, and army.

The last stop on our tour was a gold museum, no photos allowed. While Michael perused both gold jewelry and a mummy’s face, I wandered around the adjacent park. I wanted to take a photo of a charming vendor, but she made me shoot one of Simon Bolivar first.

I walked the park while waiting for the tour group to come back to the bus. Suddenly a woman in her late 40′s started to wiggle her hips, and motion me towards her. Obviously, business was not good, and I looked like the score of the day. I smiled, and said no. Never smile at a Columbian prostitute. The chase was on. After I sought refuge on the bus, she started banging on the door and windows trying to get at me. A rare seduction technique.

When we returned to the port it was obvious the tide was out. Of course there were stalls of stuff just outside the gate, and one or two beggars. The most aggressive, a woman who had her children selling bits of candy.

We spent lunch in Azamara Quest moored next to us.

Quest looked good, and some nice changes had been made both in Aqualina and Prime C. All the deck chairs were covered with fitted white towels, and the furniture had yet to fade as Quest has only been at sea for a few weeks.

After returning to Journey I went to the Windows Café to compare Journey’s offering with Quest. Ours was better.

We ran into some of the girls from last night’s show. What a treat to see this group perform. Both Michael and I agree, although there are only five of them and no lavish costumes they are the best we’ve seen in years of cruising. AND the music and voices are live, not pre-recorded nor augmented in some LA studio. They are young, so young that they have never heard of any of the game shows I’ve done, nor, and this is hard to believe, Bobby Darin. So now, I not only have to stay out of the elevator, I have to avoid talking show business with the cast.

The sun, boss, the sun! The sea is moderate (I have no idea what that means), and there is a nice breeze.

If you are a member of the Captains Club, you can fill a ship supplied laundry bag, and they will clean and fold it for $20. Since the coin laundry won’t operate until voltage converters are installed in Miami, we sent off an overstuffed bag and then headed to the sundeck.

We’ve lost any TV as there is “an extended network problem”. So, no football and no scores. If USC loses again, I’ll be forced to ceremonially burn my SC shirt and hat. My Duke stuff stopped smoldering a long time ago.

Tonight the show group performs “Twisted TV (appropriate) in what is called a comedy revuesical. They don’t seem to have a collective name, but go under the heading of Amanda-Jane, Brandon, Brooke, KJ, and Natalie. We’ll catch the 7 PM show and then a 6 PM dinner at Aqualina with the hotel manager, Ramon Santos, and our new friends from Norway.

Tomorrow we visit the Azamara Quest, Journey’s sister ship, in Santa Marta, and then check out the town. There are no Santa Marta maps nor any Santa Marta information at the shore excursion desk. Because, they say, this is the first time the ship is visiting there. Hmmm, isn’t the first time just the perfect time for a map?

We are one week into this voyage. So far, Michael has read The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Clarence Thomas’ My Grandfather’s Son, and The Worldly Philosophers. I have read about 30 pages of “Spy”. Our dinner conversation is slightly one sided.

The teak and thick cushioned lounges are the  most comfortable on which we’ve dropped our bods. Michael is already planning where to put a couple on our pool deck. I’m still working on paying for the necklace.

Labadee is a private enclave owned by Royal Caribbean on the north coast of Hispaniola. Transportation is by local tenders and there is tight security both entering and leaving the peninsula. The beaches, and there are about five of them, some hidden away, are fine white sand with very swimable water. But as clear as the water appears, warning signs are scattered along the shore. The most reported injuries coming from bare feet meeting spiny sea urchins.

Although Azamara does not cater to children, Labadee does. There’s a huge slide, an Aqua Park, and Luc’s Splash Bash with water coming up, coming down, and blasting from kids playing pirate at the end of water cannons.

A tram will take you throughout the area and let you off wherever you decide to land. And wherever that is, a crew member with beer and other drinks will find you.

Unfortunately, the clouds that have plagued us since Hamilton were still blocking the sun so we only spent a hour or so on the beach. The one downside to Labadee was being hustled by vendors. They have both an outdoor display area, and one inside a long hall filled with booths. Doing the inside is running the gauntlet of grabs, entreaties, and intimidation. If you had a windshield, they would clean it. Outdoors is much the same, but easier to escape. Nevertheless, I did contribute to the local economy. I left my lens cap.

We read most of the afternoon and then went to dinner. When we got to our table, Alex brought me a new bottle of wine to replace the one I sipped from before I ran to the cabin the night before. No charge for the wine, and this is what makes Azamara so special. You, the customer, are paid attention to, and thus feel special.

I wanted to see the show featuring a comedy juggler, so I went early enough to get a decent seat. As I sat watching the empty stage, a man went to the bandstand a deposited a chair. A bit later, he brought a guitar to put by the chair. “Interesting”, I thought, “Is this guy going to juggle the guitar and the chair.” “Oh, but Geoff”, the rational part of my mind said, “tonight’s show features Jonathon Sargent, classical guitarist. Last night was the Juggler, and, dear boy, you were in bed.”

I left my seat, and that’s where I went.

We ate in Prime C on Halloween Eve. The charge for Prime C is $25 per person. The other specialty restaurant,, Aqualina, is $20, but a one time visit is complementary per cabin. Neither drinks nor gratuities are included, pay or free.

While Prime C offers delicious sea bass, it is known for its steaks and chops. They have, for an extra $8, Kobe beef. It comes from Idaho. I wonder if you can get Kobe potatoes too.

We were met, not by a Maitre D’, but by a waiter who had an awkward time finding our reservations. Prime C’s entry area has a wood floor, a long table for at least 14, a lovely bar, plus two tables for four. One side is glass illuminating a wall of wine bottles. You get an upscale tavern-like feeling here. The rest of the restaurant curves around the stern of the ship, is carpeted, and quite cozy, with windows to the sea.

We were placed in the entry way at one of the tables for four, set so we faced a wall. We were the only diners in the room. My lobster bisque was good as was Michael’s sashimi style tuna. My popcorn shrimp and her lump crab cakes were disappointing. Her sea bass was excellent; my rare lamb chops made me question my decision to not eat red meat. Then things fell apart.

We ordered dessert, and sat at a bussed table (except for one lone empty plate off to the side) for fifteen minutes. No waiter in sight, no coffee offered, and I was on a timetable so as not to miss the show.

We’ll try Prime C again, but as of now I consider it Prime C-.

The show was wonderful. No elaborate costumes, no changing scenery, just two guys and three girls singing up a storm. A simple story was woven into the act. The movement, the music, and the energy of this group was delightful, and the standing room only audience loved them. They’ll be back again and so will I.

Then it was Halloween time. The Looking Glass Lounge was spider webbed, and hung with skeletons and skulls. Cruise Director Becky handed out prizes for best costume and scariest laugh.

We scuttled away through the webs for our cabin.

I had been wondering about Noel and during the night we got some bounces, but nothing disturbing.

It has been cloudy since leaving Bermuda, so we’ve not spent a lot of time on deck. Thursday, we ate in Windows Café at an outdoor table, and then Michael toured the stores. There was one necklace to which I stamped my foot and said, “NO”. It was 6 feet long on the wall.

By late afternoon we were bouncing, rocking, and doing that funny ship quiver that happens every so often when waves and hull converge at just the right moment. At dinner, I ordered a not inexpensive bottle of red wine. When Alex, our waiter, poured the wine, we got a lurch and a quiver and he missed the glass. Laugh. My red pepper and cream soup was yummy; at least the first two spoonfuls. As number three reached my lips, my stomach said, “not tonight, pal”. I rushed out of the dining room, napkin still in hand, and headed home. No more laughs.

Scrambling for my Acu-Strap morning and travel sickness wristbands, I positioned the buttons over my Nei-Kuan points (who knew I had them) and hung on. Either it, or lying down, worked and my two spoons of soup remained in place.