The MS Marco Polo

On return and at a basically inedible lunch of luke-warm plaice covered in a brown sauce, one fellow passenger tells me why glasses and cutlery are snatched from us almost before they are finished with. Not it appears from pure zeal on behalf of the waiters, rather a severe lack of stock, hence the need to keep all utensils on a circuitous move from table to mouth, mouth to dishwasher, dishwasher to table, etc. After lunch, through a combination of exhaustion, hunger and boredom, I find myself at reception making a late coach booking for the morrow: “Lisbon’s Famous Sights”.

Day 5: Lisbon. A storm seemed to be following our progress down the Spanish coast and our arrival in Lisbon was marked by strong winds and horizontal rain. I raced to the comparative safety of the quayside coach, ready for almost any off-ship experiences. Our coach stopped for the obligatory twenty minutes at each spot designated to be of potential interest to the visitor with two hours to spend in town. In many cases our departure was entirely dependent on the gradual forward progression of the twenty or so charabancs ahead of us in the designated parking places. “Now we shall be stopping for ten minutes, enough for you to take a photograph” seemed to be the mantra of the morning. In the end you simply find yourself behaving like Japanese tourists in London, in, out, snap, on. Ah well, when in Lisbon…

Day 6: Cadiz. A night of furious rocking as if attempting to sleep on a motorised waterbed saw us, come the dawn, sailing majestically up to the magnificent city of Cadiz. Its proximity to the ocean meant that it was subject to frequent raids and sackings, mostly by us British. To realise that the total population numbers not much more than 100,000 souls, and that the prevailing feeling of friendliness, cleanliness and wonderful Mediterranean ambience of al fresco living adds immeasurably to the charm of its already exquisite architecture. Like Lisbon there is evidence of neglect of some great buildings, but the new lady mayor has apparently galvanised the local populace into action on many new renovation projects. Of all the many cities in Spain (specifically Andalucía) and Portugal, this is by far the one I would chose to live in, or return to soon.

Earlier that day, over a perfectly ordinary dining-room breakfast, I counselled opinion from the sundry guests seated at my table. Without prejudice, two out of three would not choose to travel by C & M, and Marco Polo, again. Of the remaining third, ones who in my observation would not initiate let alone join in a table conversation, but when pressed for an answer would say, abruptly and hurriedly “It’s alright, you get what you pay for, don’t you?”

I buttonholed, on the way back from the Cadiz city tour, one of the young English crewmembers, one Matthew Agg, to ask how he was enjoying his time with C & M. He told me he had worked previously for P & O who own their ships. C & M basically charter the vessel along with 95% of the crew, without having any direct investment in MS Marco Polo itself. This, according to Matt, means that there are some fundamental differences in the chain of command between people like him and Heads of Department up to, and including, the Captain himself. In fact he gave me the distinct impression that the Captain in our case was much more difficult to approach than would be the case with P & O and Cunard. However, Matt was happy with the working conditions and very much liked the smaller ship, which gave him the chance of really getting to know both crew and passengers. He was full of praise for his employees and although I was tempted to feel that he was being guarded in his remarks, his natural enthusiasm was infectious and from this point on I too started to see the positives as well as the negatives of the voyage.