We entered Sydney Harbour late limping with one broken engine. The ship sat in the harbor with doors below the stateroom decks open to the sea looking as if work was being done to engines but it’s unclear if it was or would be repaired because we left 90 minutes earlier than originally scheduled. Would that much time help us get to our next destination on time? We have 2 days at sea so could 90 minutes matter?
Entry into the harbour brings one past a number of beautiful bays and beaches as well as the house the queen pops into when she visits. Elaborate digs for sure. As we entered, a Celebrity ship sat sadly in dry dock for repairs and I crossed my fingers that there wasn’t a dry dock in the near future for the Volendam.
We docked in Sydney at 9:30 rather than 8 and then there was a delay in clearing the ship to disembark so that frantic people were stuffed in the hall at the gangway location. It was a log jam of people, luggage and wheelchairs so the ship’s powers directed everyone, over the pa system, to vacate the halls and stairs until they were called to return or the gang way would stay closed. Like good do-bees we left and only returned when in-transit passengers were called. Here’s the thing, when we reached the gangway that same log-jam of increasingly desperate people stood there.
People with early flights were desperate about the time and we in transit were just going for sightseeing but we were allowed to repeat “In Transit. Excuse me.” and so make our way off the ship while they were refused exit, Maybe the luggage transfer was the problem. The ship is generally quite organized soi there must have been a reason for the delays still it would have helped everyone to know what was going on because it felt like a mutiny might erupt at any moment on those stairs.
The big thing we did on our first day in Sydney was a tour the Endeavor, a replica of James Cooke’s ship. What a project!
There was a charge to see the ship, a bit of a shock after all the free museums, but it was staffed with devoted volunteers. The original Endeavor sunk during the American war of Independence so a few years ago a wealthy person decided that he’d build an exact replica. It seems he went to jail so things faltered and then there was a new sponsor and that ended but third time’s a charm and the Endeavor replica was carved, fitted and launched – for a mere $17 million US.
The first thing I noticed on board was the array of ropes but while I was gaping at the 29 kilometers of rope a volunteer insisted on showing me the toilets. It’s not that they thought I had to “go” but rather that they enjoyed the shock value of the “toilets”- large boards with holes cut out of them so that one marched out to the bow of the ship, dropped one’s drawers and balanced on this board depositing one’s personal waste through the hole and into the sea. Arse-wiping was done with the frayed end of a rope which was lowered into the sea to clean it off for the next person. Recycling, one volunteer said, is nothing new. Life at sea, I thought, must have been very tough.
The original Endeavor, built in 1768 for considerably less than $17 million, was state of the art for its time. The cook stove was a huge iron stove set on stone set on tin and fueled by wood. A fire burned from morning till mid day cooking first 94 breakfasts and then stewing enough to give hot stew for lunch and leftovers for dinner. The fire had to be put out midday to reduce the danger of fire at night.
To say that conditions were tight gives little of the sense of space available. One could stand in the center of the below deck area but it was necessary to scoot/scuttle through parts of the ship where the ceiling and floor were only about 4 feet apart. Hammocks with 14” of space were strung over tables at night and when the sailors got up hammocks were stowed away and people hunched over to walk around. They lived like this for 3 year – except for those who died of dysentery.
Actually they did well for a long while because Cook was attentive to health. Everyone had to wash hands and dishes with vinegar and they were given sauerkraut for the vitamin C that kept scurvy away. Each sailor had 2 hammocks – one to use while the other was washed and allowed to dry. Once dysentery and malaria joined them on board, it was a mess.
This replica sails every 3 or so years following one of Cook’s routes and one can book a berth if in possession of enough cash and a willingness to part with it.
Day 2 in Sydney started with walking across the bridge. Had we been willing to part with $329 each we could have climbed to the pinnacle while lashed to the iron work and led by guides. We could have looked down from so much further up and could have had the adventure of a greater wind and wider view but the cost seemed steeper than the bridge so we just walked on the sidewalk – no small walk.
The sidewalk traffic was brisk with walkers and joggers. The view looking down on the aquarium, the Hyatt Hotel and all the boats was worth the climb.
On the way to the bridge we went to a very classy street market and after the bridge we went to the Powerhouse museum to see Australia’s first steam locomotive, a steam engine built by James Watt and used in a mill for over 102 years, a model of the Russian Soyez (4 and 5), and models of the very tiny Vanguard and larger Sputnik. There were lots of entertaining interactive exhibits and periodically the exhibits roared to life. Near the train the audio would turn on with the sound of horse hoofs clomping on the road and the train engine and whistle and people talking with the call for All Aboard sailing over the din. It was an interesting feature except for the startling effect of sudden noise on the un-expecting.
I, for one, was worn out by the walking and gawking. There are marvelous buildings here and lots of people to look at. The school groups are all defined by their uniforms which include sun hats. There are many stylish people about and several outfits were worth two moments of gawking. The shoes and sandals are impressive. How can anyone maneuver on those tiny spiky heels? How many straps can one pair of sandals have? Who first thought to pair knee highs with spike heels? How many variations on the drawing of a skull can one find on T-shirts or socks? It’s an interesting world.
Then there are the variations in architecture. Sydney is filled with lovely old buildings from the colonial era but the most recognizable structure is the Opera House. Did you know that the roofs are covered in ceramic tiles? I didn’t. The colors of the tiles give the sense of texture from a distance and up close they become a detailed design. It’s huge and elegant outside so no doubt striking inside though we didn’t take the tour but instead went into the Botanical Gardens where we also didn’t take the tour. Not very good tourists, are we?
Showing posts with label Volendam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Volendam. Show all posts
Friday, March 20, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Volendam
The Volendam is our temporary home. Our stateroom is on the 6th level, inside. There’s a curtain on the wall behind the bed to give the illusion of a window. Neighboring cabins have windows and sliding glass doors for their verandas. They have small sitting areas and they have to take a few steps to reach stuff but their rooms cost several times what we paid.
We have a king-sized bed taking up half the room and then a love seat, a chair, a table (slightly larger than your Thanksgiving turkey platter) and a dresser. There are 5 closets – one with a small safe – some with shelves – and there’s a bathroom with a shower/no tub. The tiny room forces one to everything away every time it’s ued and generally that’s what we do. It’s a little bit of fun to know where everything is.
Our small suitcases are under the bed but the large one doesn’t fit so it’s under the desk redefining it as a not-desk and making the ottoman easy to trip over in the dark. We’ve one electrical outlet in the bathroom but it runs nothing more than a shaver. To charge the electric toothbrush or to clean the brush heads with the ultraviolet light we must use the outlet on our not-desk. Likewise that’s where we can charge batteries or run our waterpic. Using a waterpic is messy enough over a sink but on the not-desk there’s another level of difficulty.
Our room steward, Dedi, has to clean 29 staterooms twice a day, every day. 29. I think that’s twice as many as the guys did last year. Dedi brings mail – notices of promotions on board, the daily activities schedule, special notes, bills and the condensed New York Times (8 pages long and 2 days old). He cleans the bathrooms and I’ve seen him in a room with a huge washer so think he has to launder all the sheets and towels.
He delivers fresh ice and fruit daily and then he has to meet passengers’ whims. Since people with the verandas likely paid $8,000 or more EACH to be in those large and fancy rooms, it would not surprise me to hear that there are daily whims.
In his spare time he folds towels into animal shapes and decorates our bed with them adding 2 golden coins of milk chocolate and an invitation to order room service breakfast in bed the next day.
Living in this high-rent district it is surprising to see that the self-service laundry is busy all day. It’s $2 per load of wash including soap but we don’t like their soap so brought our own. Often people go to and from the laundry in their robes.
There’s a snack bar, a cafeteria, a restaurant, and a fancy restaurant. One is required to use hand sanitizer before entering any food area and shaking hands is discouraged as is holding the handrails. If people start to get sick all the salt and pepper shakers are removed from tables and stewards come along to offer salt and pepper touched only by their gloved hands.
The best food is in the Pinnacle but there is a $20 per person cover charge and, with the other restaurants “free,” it seems an unjustified luxury though they grill the asparagus and it’s quiet and relaxed while the Rotterdam has hundreds eating there in 2 shifts and all the vegetables are steamed or baked. We had only 2 “free” coupons for the Pinnacle so we eat dinner in the Rotterdam restaurant and breakfast and lunch in the Lido cafeteria. One can eat somewhere 24 hours a day paying only for bar drinks or soft drinks.
The stewards seem to have to serve twice the number of tables compared with last year. Sometimes the wine steward doesn’t make it to our table until the main dish is served. The cut backs are clearly hurting the level of comfort here. The stewards seem exhausted when they walk the halls. Who can enjoy an outing knowing that people are slaving away on board all day? Who can consider room service? The trays must weigh 50 pounds but if the service isn’t used another job is cut. What to do? I’d like to have my brown shoes polished but hate to ask.
Last year the staff had time to visit and many of them worked to learn the language of the passengers but now it’s here-your-are and they take off. We’ve also noticed that the spotless stainless steel and brass aren’t as spotless. The life raft containers look dirty. It’s not that we need spotless but it just shows how pushed the staff members are. Some of the higher level people are short with passengers and I think they are just exhausted. Likely they get grief from crew and passengers.
What else? There are shows every night – comedians and jugglers; magicians and singers; dancers and what-all troupes. Rick generally hates them and I like to give most a chance so go alone. Most seem to come on board for a day or two and then jump off to find another ship. Tough way to live or exciting. Not sure.
There’s a daily movie with popcorn and there are cooking demos and tours behind scenes in the kitchen. There’s a gym, a spa, an indoor and outdoor pool and a couple of hot tubs. There are shops, a casino and a library. The library lends books for free, offers internet for $.55 per minute (for dialup speed) and rents DVDs. One can walk the lower promenade deck with 3.5 laps equaling a mile. Clearly posted are warnings – NO JOGGING. I break that rule occasionally because around the corner at the bow the wind can be very strong and jogging a few steps is the only way to have my feet keep up with the rest of me.
The naturalist gives lectures and commentaries on the deck and the magician gave a lecture on Houdini. One can purchase “art” though the reputation of on board art (in general) is not reassuring.
There really is always something to do. The TV offers CNN or Turner Classic movies or showings or any lectures or commentaries by the naturalist or entertainer as well as a closed circuit showing of what can be seen from the bridge.
Being onboard I wish not to say I’m hungry but rather that I’m feeling peckish. It seems appropriate to like and want tea but I’m making little progress there. Dinner at 8 feels reasonable though at 5:30 my stomach needs reassurance that it will be fed.
We have a king-sized bed taking up half the room and then a love seat, a chair, a table (slightly larger than your Thanksgiving turkey platter) and a dresser. There are 5 closets – one with a small safe – some with shelves – and there’s a bathroom with a shower/no tub. The tiny room forces one to everything away every time it’s ued and generally that’s what we do. It’s a little bit of fun to know where everything is.
Our small suitcases are under the bed but the large one doesn’t fit so it’s under the desk redefining it as a not-desk and making the ottoman easy to trip over in the dark. We’ve one electrical outlet in the bathroom but it runs nothing more than a shaver. To charge the electric toothbrush or to clean the brush heads with the ultraviolet light we must use the outlet on our not-desk. Likewise that’s where we can charge batteries or run our waterpic. Using a waterpic is messy enough over a sink but on the not-desk there’s another level of difficulty.
Our room steward, Dedi, has to clean 29 staterooms twice a day, every day. 29. I think that’s twice as many as the guys did last year. Dedi brings mail – notices of promotions on board, the daily activities schedule, special notes, bills and the condensed New York Times (8 pages long and 2 days old). He cleans the bathrooms and I’ve seen him in a room with a huge washer so think he has to launder all the sheets and towels.
He delivers fresh ice and fruit daily and then he has to meet passengers’ whims. Since people with the verandas likely paid $8,000 or more EACH to be in those large and fancy rooms, it would not surprise me to hear that there are daily whims.
In his spare time he folds towels into animal shapes and decorates our bed with them adding 2 golden coins of milk chocolate and an invitation to order room service breakfast in bed the next day.
Living in this high-rent district it is surprising to see that the self-service laundry is busy all day. It’s $2 per load of wash including soap but we don’t like their soap so brought our own. Often people go to and from the laundry in their robes.
There’s a snack bar, a cafeteria, a restaurant, and a fancy restaurant. One is required to use hand sanitizer before entering any food area and shaking hands is discouraged as is holding the handrails. If people start to get sick all the salt and pepper shakers are removed from tables and stewards come along to offer salt and pepper touched only by their gloved hands.
The best food is in the Pinnacle but there is a $20 per person cover charge and, with the other restaurants “free,” it seems an unjustified luxury though they grill the asparagus and it’s quiet and relaxed while the Rotterdam has hundreds eating there in 2 shifts and all the vegetables are steamed or baked. We had only 2 “free” coupons for the Pinnacle so we eat dinner in the Rotterdam restaurant and breakfast and lunch in the Lido cafeteria. One can eat somewhere 24 hours a day paying only for bar drinks or soft drinks.
The stewards seem to have to serve twice the number of tables compared with last year. Sometimes the wine steward doesn’t make it to our table until the main dish is served. The cut backs are clearly hurting the level of comfort here. The stewards seem exhausted when they walk the halls. Who can enjoy an outing knowing that people are slaving away on board all day? Who can consider room service? The trays must weigh 50 pounds but if the service isn’t used another job is cut. What to do? I’d like to have my brown shoes polished but hate to ask.
Last year the staff had time to visit and many of them worked to learn the language of the passengers but now it’s here-your-are and they take off. We’ve also noticed that the spotless stainless steel and brass aren’t as spotless. The life raft containers look dirty. It’s not that we need spotless but it just shows how pushed the staff members are. Some of the higher level people are short with passengers and I think they are just exhausted. Likely they get grief from crew and passengers.
What else? There are shows every night – comedians and jugglers; magicians and singers; dancers and what-all troupes. Rick generally hates them and I like to give most a chance so go alone. Most seem to come on board for a day or two and then jump off to find another ship. Tough way to live or exciting. Not sure.
There’s a daily movie with popcorn and there are cooking demos and tours behind scenes in the kitchen. There’s a gym, a spa, an indoor and outdoor pool and a couple of hot tubs. There are shops, a casino and a library. The library lends books for free, offers internet for $.55 per minute (for dialup speed) and rents DVDs. One can walk the lower promenade deck with 3.5 laps equaling a mile. Clearly posted are warnings – NO JOGGING. I break that rule occasionally because around the corner at the bow the wind can be very strong and jogging a few steps is the only way to have my feet keep up with the rest of me.
The naturalist gives lectures and commentaries on the deck and the magician gave a lecture on Houdini. One can purchase “art” though the reputation of on board art (in general) is not reassuring.
There really is always something to do. The TV offers CNN or Turner Classic movies or showings or any lectures or commentaries by the naturalist or entertainer as well as a closed circuit showing of what can be seen from the bridge.
Being onboard I wish not to say I’m hungry but rather that I’m feeling peckish. It seems appropriate to like and want tea but I’m making little progress there. Dinner at 8 feels reasonable though at 5:30 my stomach needs reassurance that it will be fed.
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