Bastia
SATURDAY, MAY 24
A ferry disgorges vehicles in Bastia, on the French island of Corsica, including scores of motor bikes. It is almost as if my wife, Marie and I are back in Samford on a weekend, seeing all the motor bike riders enter the valley, eager and willing to challenge the curves on Mt Glorious and Mt Mee. Corsica has equally challenging roads. Marie and I explore Bastia with American couple, Billy and Marsha. Billy is ex-LAPD and shows me his retirement card which allows him to legally carry a gun. He left it home for this trip. Billy is surprised at the number of shops selling knives in Bastia. Obviously the city doesn’t have the same problems with knife crime that we have in Queensland. Billy’s mother came from Adelaide, Australia and married an American soldier she met during World Warr II. Billy’s dad was in chare of an ammunition depot at Sydney’s Double Bay. Marie buys a Corsica cap, and is disappointed to discover it was made in China.
SUNDAY, MAY 25
Monaco is our first F1, and it will be our last. Don’t get me wrong. It has been a great experience, but I wish it was 39 laps instead of 78, especially as overtaking is almost impossible, and, as far as we can see there hasn’t been one instance of it today with the top three – Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc and Oscar Piastri – finishing as per pole positions. I know I shouldn’t judge all F1 races on Monaco, but I’m not in a hurry to see another one. Our daughter, Melanie and my youngest brother, Stewart love F1 so apologies to them. Maybe if we had got to the track a bit later and not had to sit in the sun for eight hours (watching also a Porsche race and F3) thongs might have been different. Our ship had docked in Nice and then we went by coach to Monaco. For me the highlight was looking at what was happening on the boats moored in Port Hercule. It was mayhem after the race, with our guide from the ship having a tough job leading us on the 45 minute walk back to the coach. When half our party had ascended a flight of steps, police put a barricade across the top, isolating the rest of the group, who were required to walk around the block
Back on board we dine pool-side with Bily and Marsha from Long Beach before attending the Mandy Muden comedy/magic show. Mandy is good at taking the piss out of people, and gets audience members involved, including two Marks from Melbourne, who are easy targets. In ‘The Den’ bar I enioy a chat with a couple from Cologne in Germany, who lived in South Africa for three years, where they became Bulls/Springboks’ rugby fans, even travelling to Australia for the World Cup. A former executive in the automative industry, the husband. has had a stroke, but has worked hard on his recovery and is doing well.
MONDAY, MAY 26
There are swells up to two metres high as we sail off the French coast headed for Barcelona, but the sea is calm when we enter Spanish waters. There are 16 container ships waiting outside the harbour as we arrive in Barcelona.
Marie and I watch 2024 movie ‘September 5’, about the Munich Olympics atrocity and the dilemma faced by the sports television crew ‘forced’ to cover the attack. There has been an African gang machete attack in Melbourne, and Melbourne police actually use the term ‘gang’ when talking to the media. They have always denied there are African gangs. It is sad to hear that the Manning Valley in New South Wales has been devastated by floods. I lived in Taree in 1975 when playing rugby league for Wingham Tigers.
TUESDAY, MAY 27
Memories of our 1977-78 back-packing trip around Europe flood back as we undertake an excursion from Barcelona to Montserrat Monastery. It is quite a drive up to the monastery, and it is a miracle our beat-up old Kombi made it in April, 1978. There is a boys’ choir singing at a service in basilica where we line-up to view the Black Madonna.
We enjoy a magnificent event at Finca Mas Solens, a 13thc ex-Augustinian Abbey south of Barcelona in a vineyard setting. We are greeted by waiters and waitresses with beer and wine, and treated to classical guitar music. This is followed by an exhibition of the Castell (human towers) and then Rumbla Catalana music and dance. We sit beside a couple from Dewsbury in West Yorkshire, who are devoted rugby league fans, but fear the game is dying. The husband is friends with one of Dewsbury’s most famous products, former Great Britain skipper, Mick ‘Stevo’ Stephenson. The Burgess brothers also hail from Dewsbury. Evidently, some years back, ‘Stevo’ was chatting to legendary Welsh rugby league star, Billy Boston, a prolific try scoring winger. They were comparing their bald heads, but Boston pointed out his wasn’t the result of aging. He was bald because he had been patted on the head so many times after scoring tries.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 28
It is a day at sea and Marie and I watch game 1 of the State of Origin series live on Sport24. Marie is a Blues’ supporter and is delighted when the Laurie Daley coached outfit emerge victors. We agree it is a scrappy game and not really up to Origin standard, at least not in terms of the skill level. Our daughter, Melanie watches the game in an Australian bar in Abu Dhabi, and it has XXXX Gold. Our youngest son, Lliam attends the game with good mate, Anthony West.
We have afternoon tea with a couple from Newcastle in the UK who met former Kiwi international league player, Dane O’Hara on a previous cruise. They couldn’t get over so unmarked and well worn he was considering he had played such a tough sport. They also praised him for being an absolute gentleman. They didn’t know anything about him until they had met him, and were impressed to see how much he had achieved, particularly with the Kiwis and the Hull club, when they Googled him. (Dane didn’t talk much about himself).
Away from rugby league we get a dose of culture by attending a concert on board given by brilliant Ukrainian pianist, Sasha Kovalov.
THURSDAY, MAY 29
Today’s excursion (from Malaga) is to Ronda, where, under the direction of our enthusiastic guide, Serge, we walk over 7km, exploring the bullfight arena and a church. We have a lovely lunch – cured meats, squid ink croquet, beef and potatoes, followed by mousse – at a local restaurant, sitting with an Aussie couple and an American couple. The American guy is ex-FBI, and tells a few stories, one about a genius on a pushbike who robbed a bank and got away with $5, and the other about a grandmother who organised a Christmas trip on a Disney cruise and then jumped overboard – on Christmas Day.
Back on ‘Journey’ we enjoy ‘White Night’ up on deck, which is attended by Azamara CEO, Dondra Ritzentheler, who had just been to a Q & A session in the cabaret room. Evidently she was hit with some curly – and some stupid – questions. One bloke (American) said he had been monitoring how many people sanitised their hands. He said a number of people didn’t bother and was upset Azamara didn’t have someone at each food point insisting on the practise. The CEO (quite rightly) pointed out that the passenger list is almost entirely adult, and adults are expected to do the right thing, and there are better ways to deploy staff. A couple of attendees said they believed standards were not as high as last time they cruised with the line. We can’t judge because this our first time, having previously done two Northern Hemisphere cruises with Silversea and one South Hemisphere cruise with the Princess Line. One lady on this cruise has seen 700 days at sea with Azamara.
There is non-stop dancing poolside, and Marie and I join in when the band starts singing ‘I’m a Believer’. We enjoy a nightcap in The Den, served by Nicholas, who is always efficient and friendly.
FRIDAY, MAY 30
In 1978 Marie and I saw the Rock of Gibraltar, but from a distance. We were on THAT Kombi van trip and THAT Kombi van broke down across from Gibraltar at Algeciras. We were taken in by a Spanish family and had lunch on the balcony of their apartment, with Gibraltar in clear view. In those days you couldn’t cross the border into Gibraltar and I never thought we would make it there.
The first thing I spot as we dock was a Morrison’s Store. On the way back to the ship, from our ‘Fortress Gibraltar’ tour, I spot a pub which says it is the home of Leeds’ United Supporters’ Group on Gibraltar. My good mate, Andrew Varley, United’s official photographer, boasts that there are similar bars all over the world. I’m not sure how many bars around the world are the home of Leeds’ Rugby League Club. Our guide on the tour around Gibraltar is 74 and has lived all his life here. At Europa Point we gaze across the sea to the African continent, with small dolphins putting on a show where the Atlantic meets the Mediterranean. We get to see a few rock apes before our tour of the World War II tunnels, but I steer well clear of them. I’m not a fan of monkeys, apes, etc. I do recall some rugby types referring to us ‘leagueis’ as ‘rock apes’. My brother, Andrew, a noted war historian, has been to Gibraltar.
Back on board we lunch with a couple from Liverpool in Sydney who support the Bulldogs rugby league side. He is ex-Narwee Boys High, while she went to Beverly Hills Girls School. Narwee Boys High closed in 1990.
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