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Published: April 21st 2008
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Alrighty! So Lindo and I have a conference to see how would be the best way to get to Barcelona from Rome. We have a few options open to us, we could go first class using our Eurail tickets during the day, do an overnighter or go by sea. Both the rail options involve transfers which, for English only incompetents, makes us a bit nervous, and there will be border checks too - we are still smarting from the Swiss experience. We end up both heartily agreeing to catch a ferry, which will take about 19 hours. The photos on the internet look wonderful, people frolicking on the decks, sunbathing and swimming in the onboard pool. The vessel even looks more like an ocean liner than your average ferry, so there is no doubt in our minds that this is definitely a leisurely cruise on the placid waters of the Mediterranean.
The train ride to Civitavecchia, which is the port of Rome, is pleasant and as we get closer the villages passing by are full of cute little houses with white-washed walls, red tile roofing and palm trees, just what you would expect to see if you were watching a
movie set somewhere in this romantic part of the world.
The port itself is very old, there is an old fort that has been there for ever and other harbour structures which seem to have almost grown out of the earth.
We have arrived perhaps a little too early, our intention was to stow our bags somewhere and then have a bit of a look around some other areas, but unfortunately there is no such facility, so we settle down to wait outside the terminal with a bottle of cheap wine and the guitar to help pass the time.
There are signs that the weather, which has been warm and sunny all day, is not going to continue in quite the same vein. Ah well, you cant have everything.
Our "ocean liner" arrives and strangely starts unloading trucks, and keeps on unloading them for about an hour and a half. Hmm, this seems to be a bit like a freighter with passenger capacity...surely not.
The departure time was supposed to be 7pm but we still haven't boarded and the foot passengers, about 30 in all, are waiting on the pier in the wind which is freshening
and cooling.
When we finally get on board, the staff dont appear to be the cheery helpful people you would expect to encounter. In fact it would almost seem that they dont really want us there at all.
Then there is the sleeper cabin that we have booked. There seems to quite a few, and with a fairly empty boat, except for frieght, you would expect the staff to perhaps spread the people out rather than pack each one to capacity, which is 4 to a tiny shoebox not much larger than the train version of the same thing. Well, that would be the decent thing to do, but who said that these people were going to be decent? And when the italian speaking person in our cabin tries to point out that they could spread us out a bit the receptionist is pretty adament that if this is going to happen then we will have to pay. This we dicide to do, as the thought of having 4 people in the same tiny space for hours on end, sharing the same tiny volume of foul air while pitching and rolling on a rough sea is enough to
make us start feeling seasick before the ship has even encountered the first decent swell.
Which soon happens. There is going to be movement, the ship, and passengers' stomachs.
I immediately lose my appetite, not feeling sick as such, but certainly not looking to ingest anything. Lindo, however, has a few rough ferry rides under his belt and is still hungry, so we head off to the galley, where the 6 euro pork dinner is looking like a pretty good deal. There is catch of course, the 6 euros only covers the pork itself, if you want veges that will set you back another 5, salad is 4, a drink is 4, This is now extortion! Of course it is, we knew it would be but we forgot to stop and get supplies, part of the reason we were too early.
Well, I'm somewhat gloomy with the state of affairs so I go back to my bunk to write up the journal of the days happy turn of events. Meanwhile Lindo has got the guitar out and is entertaining some of the English speaking passengers on board. I guess this is turning into a gig for him. Well,
it can't be all bad can it. I've been fast asleep for hours before someone finally brings him back to the cabin. He's had a good show it would appear, people have been buying him drinks and he's been the human juke box again.
Perhaps waking up with a dry mouth and a sore head is better left for dry land though. Waking up in a violently moving windowless box is an experience I'd rather not repeat, hungover or not.
Our arrival in Barcelona is heralded by a tremendous banging on the cabin door, upon opening it, the man yells at us, "you go now", and he's off to go and bang on the next one.
A fitting end to our second nightmare journey.
We're definitely learning the hard way!
Things may seem a little grim, but in reality the boys are made of stern stuff. We are from Canterbury after all, and have survived Rangiora high school and savage winters in St Albans.
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Dave (Rockshop)
non-member comment
On no ...
... man ... 19hrs on a frikkin ferry. Holy shit, I think I would have taken the transfers option, english speaking or not. I know I can't sleep for 19hrs which is about the only way I would have considered it. I have a weak stomach, the Cook Strait ferry in bad weather sucks. Can't believe the prices of food. That's just insane ... what did it taste like, or did you not end up buying? Funny stuff. Cheers Dave