One of the quirks of ocean cruising is assigned seating at dinner – I am not a fan.  I am perfectly happy chatting with people I meet in the lounge or by the pool or at the bar, but the idea of being stuck with the same six people for dinner every night has my introverted, isolationist, Reid nerves on edge. 

I could have sworn that I asked for a solo table when I booked, but on evening one I was led to a large table with three other guests.  They were lovely people – so lovely in fact that I felt guilty about wanting to dodge that table for the rest of the cruise.  The man spoke with such a thick Mancunian accent and gravelly voice that I understood maybe one word in 20 (since typing this, I had several more meals with him and 1 in 20 is generous – haven’t a clue what he is saying. At all.). The two ladies from Glasgow & Fort William were very nice and very friendly and (most importantly) very intelligible. And yet, I bailed on them, at least for a few of the evenings.  I warned my dining companions up front that I had booked several nights at the boutique restaurants to manage expectations. (I hadn’t actually done that at that point, as I was finding the additional costs for everything to be a bit much, but I decided it was worth the money to ensure dinners that I was actually enjoying.)

In 2018 LL & I took our first ocean cruise in years on Viking’s new ocean liner. We spent our first day in Barcelona, and one day was simply not enough to see everything (we did a Keystone Cops taxi tour of the major sights in town, with LL hopping out at each place to take photos before popping back into the cab – typical North American tourists). The next morning, as we should have been pulling into Monaco, LL pointed out that the sun seemed to be on the wrong side of the ship. Just then the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker (tannoy) to announce that an engine, or propeller, or crank shaft, or something had broken, we were heading back to Barcelona, and the cruise was cancelled. Instead, we were to spend the next 12 days, courtesy of Viking, berthed in Barcelona – our cruise was free, all excursions were free, plus we got 50% towards our next cruise. Jackpot! While much of the rest of the ship’s passengers railed at the staff, or cried (seriously, people cried), or went home; LL & I looked at each other, grinned, and said, “Freebie!” We had the best two weeks in Barcelona exploring it properly (no taxi-hopping anymore). And we even signed up for the same cruise the following year (which turned out just great too).

Well, zip forward four years. I have always wanted to visit Denmark, particularly Copenhagen. I saw this cruise online and while it didn’t stop in Copenhagen, it did hit one Danish city; and as mentioned before, the cruise started out of Edinburgh.

I have enjoyed every stop so far. We have two cities left: Sassnitz Germany today, and Szczecin Poland tomorrow. I was particularly looking forward to Szczecin as it has two specific shops I wanted to visit, that I haven’t found in the UK or even northern France.
Well not so fast, Lainey. Yesterday afternoon the captain came over the tannoy (loudspeaker) to say that an engine, or propeller, or crank shaft, or something had broken and our cruise was being altered. It seems we are able to sail, just at much slower speeds. So today’s stop in Sassnitz is still on, but Szczecin has been cancelled and replaced by a day in Copenhagen. People seem to be reacting fairly well – no tears – we Scots are a stoic race – and while I’m bummed about missing those two shops in Szczecin, I get to go to Copenhagen.

My only worry: am I like those people who can’t wear watches because the watches always stop working on their wrist? Am I breaking ship propellers with some sort of electromagnetic force?

Gdansk is beautiful. With a very interesting and often sad history.

I decided not to take one of the ship’s tours – too expensive and waaay too long. Instead I found a Viator boat tour along the canals and rivers. The starting point was about a 20 minute walk from where the ship’s shuttle bus dropped us in town, at the old dockyards.

Turned out to be more than a 20 minute walk when I factored in getting lost twice, but I got to the docks with time to spare. Unfortunately the docklands were locked up with no sign of anything touristy. I asked a number of nearby dock workers and locals (many in Gdansk speak German) but no one had heard of it. So back to the centre of town (shoulda taken sun screen).

Rest of day went much better: beautiful streets and buildings, nice residential areas, more churches than Rome, and great sidewalk cafes.

Edit: I have just been informed by Viator that they will not be reimbursing me, and I received what looked like an indignant email from the tour operator (it was all in Polish, but there were a number of exclamation marks). I will be taking this up with Viator when I get home. Hunh.

Clearly I have been spoiled by river cruises and their ‘all-in’ prices. I am on a Fred. Olsen cruise ship with 800+ Scots, 100+ English, and a few Americans. The staff are lovely (the ratio of staff:guests is quite high) and the boat is very nice. But everything costs. All the excursions are an extra £35 – £150, wifi is £12/day, gratuities aren’t covered, nor is ground transport to the port.
When I sat down in the lounge when I arrived on board, the young waiter spent at 8 minutes trying to convince me to spend £40 on a wine & cheese tasting event – very hard sell. (Since then I have heard at least 3 other staff members accosting guests for similar events – it’s exhausting to even listen to).

I will be doing a cost comparison when I get home. (*Of course, you will, Elaine, of course you will.)

This cruise used to go to St Petersburg, but in light of recent events, yesterday’s destination was the lovely town of Klaipeda.

I love visiting grocery stores in foreign countries and the small grocer in the center of town did not disappoint. Pringles stacked next to paprika flavored crisps from Poland, Heinz ketchup on the same shelf as at least 15 types of local pickles and sauerkraut, and at least 10 brands of Lithuanian vodka (no Stoly here).

Banners and flags in support of Ukraine were everywhere – we were within 100km of Russian soil, and the Lithuanians are very concerned about Putin (no wonder).

The town was great, but the most remarkable sight was the massive naval ship loaded down with what I was told were Harrier planes (never question an elderly British man on his knowledge of anything military – he will take great offense).

I resent every single piece of clothing that I pack and end up not using, and I regret every forgotten piece of clothing that would have made my trip better. This time, it looks like the coat was surplus to requirements and a cardigan would have been a more useful choice.
I keep questioning why I am having these problems with packing (please God don’t let it be early-onset dementia) because when I packed for work all those years ago I was like a well-oiled machine. There was no list-making, no agonizing over choices, no missing items. It was because packing for work travel was easy: one suit with an extra pair of pants (trousers), three blouses, a pair of jeans and two casual tops, pjs, and two pairs of shoes: one dress, one casual – all in one color palette. Inclement weather didn’t matter as I was taking taxis; toiletries were easy because I kept a full make-up bag all ready with seconds of make-up samples and miniature bottles.

And I don’t really know why it bugs me so much – it doesn’t need to be perfect – silly me.

On the whole, I did pack fairly well for this trip – I was commenting to my sisters (via Messenger) on the Captain’s welcome evening that there were some lovely gowns and dresses, and it was nice to see so many men in formal kilts or tartan trews (trousers), but that the key take-away from the evening was that I had the nicest shoes on the boat. And really, what else matters?

On the whole, I am enjoying this cruise. Starting to suspect that 10 days might be 2 or 3 days too long when travelling solo, but this is a very nice ship with good food, pleasant crew, and thankfully, good weather.

There are a few places where I feel they fall down a bit – I’ve mentioned the nickel & diming and the hard upselling – some of the other deficiencies I’ve noticed include areas such as cabin amenities, the limited wine range, and maybe more regional foods; but I will never mention it to them, at least not to their faces.

After Lori’s and my continuous improvement incident of 2013, affectionately known as Elbe-gate, I don’t give face-to-face feedback. Back then, because we liked the cruise director so much, we very kindly pulled him aside on the second last day to tell him how much better experience the passengers would have had, if only the cruise line apprised them about certain routines and information. He graciously took all our suggestions on board and we wandered back to the bar in a haze of self-congratulatory helpfulness. The next morning, as we were packing, we opened the pamphlet each of us had found on our beds on Day One, but had never bothered to look at. Every piece of information we had been missing was clearly spelled out. Splendid.

I know exactly what would happen if I were to say to someone here that there should be a clock in each stateroom: “Oh did madame not look at the TV screen in the corner?” or made a suggestion to supply guests with hair conditioner or hand cream: “Ah, allow me to show madame the toiletries tray under the sink.” So, I say nothing. (BTW there really should be a clock, hand cream, shampoo & conditioner, bathrobe & slippers in each cabin. Ah well.)

The first of three bridges across the firth of Forth (firth = estuary, Forth = this river’s name) was built in the 1880’s and there is an expression in the UK, a task can be described: ‘like painting the Forth Bridge’, meaning: as soon as you’ve finished, it’s time to start all over again. It is a UNESCO world site and considered an iconic Scottish image.
This was our view as our ship headed out to sea – the red metal one farthest away was the original, the grey was built in 1964, and the bright white one in the foreground was completed in 2017.

I don’t take ocean cruises often, and only picked this one because (a) it was going to Scandinavia, and (b) it left from Edinburgh – only one flight from Kirkwall.

Due to a mix-up with my luggage (don’t ask – entirely my fault this time), I had the opportunity to sit and watch the onboarding procedure for 1,000+ elderly Scots. It was a well-oiled machine; accommodation made for wheelchairs, walkers, and canes; double-decker shuttle buses; and the chirpiest, chipperist, young staff imaginable. Their faces must have hurt from smiling.

But, everyone made it aboard safe and sound; although, as I am writing this on our first day out at sea, someone was just airlifted off on a stretcher in a helicopter. How scary that must be for them and their travel companions.

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love living 6 minutes from the airport. The parking lot (carpark) is half the size of the lot in front of the Milton Winners and is only 3 pounds/day.

The lay-out: KOI (Kirkwall International Airport) is about as big as the Winners itself, with a check-in desk, displays of the local arts, crafts, and distilleries, and a small cafeteria. Beside the café counter there is a bar counter, which, at 7:45am, was closed (obvs). Imagine my surprise when the bar opened at 8am on the dot, and 4 guys lined up for their early morning, pre-flight pint. Gotta love the Scots. (Actually, in retrospect, I shouldn’t be quite so judgemental; exactly 24 hours later I was sipping a mimosa at my breakfast table. The waiter offered, what was a girl to do?)
One hour flight, then a one hour wait for our luggage (shades of the Seine), then off to the cruise port in Rosyth (there is a 900 year old castle ruin in among the warehouses and garages at the port).