Holiday time- our special cruise.

Holiday time- our special cruise.

Travelling around the world has become almost second nature to British holidaymakers throughout the years. 50 years ago a leisurely stroll around the sparkling Mediterranean would have been regarded as just a pipe dream, the kind of fantasy journey into the unknown that some of us could only have dreamt about let alone fulfilled. And yet here we are 50 years later and countries such as Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus and more recently the USA, Mexico, Canada, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Israel, South Africa, Brazil and Cuba have become the must do destinations of our choice.

Such has been the disposable income available to most British sunseekers that jumping onto a plane or boat is now very much the accepted norm rather than that fondly held ambition that may have been completely out of our reach and now we think nothing of finding the best possible price on Expedia.com. Then we book two weeks or perhaps more on a sun kissed island where the palm trees sway effortlessly in the comforting breeze and the pina coladas flow organically by that heavenly sanctuary of a barely rippling swimming pool.

This year my lovely wife and I celebrated our silver wedding anniversary and we made up our minds pretty quickly that a Mediterranean cruise seemed the only and most appealing of holidays. Travel, of course broadens all of our horizons and puts the world into the most charming of perspectives. For almost the entire year we plan the most revitalising and recuperative summer holiday for both family and friends because we all need to recharge the proverbial batteries, relaxing and chilling out for a considerable length of time before searching for a fortnight of peace, enjoyment, laughter, drinking and making merry in the blazing heat of the Med where the sun always seems to shine.

And so it was that we confirmed our magical getaway Mediterranean cruise where the stardust speckled sunspots of Spain, Italy and the spectacularly beautiful idyll of the South of France beckoned us into its warmest of homes. Sun and laughter on a summer holiday. To make our dreams come true for a week or two. Now where have we heard that one from before?

Our cruise on the Marella cruiser ship to the various and varied picture postcard ports of the Med left my wife and I simply breathless at the colour and sumptuous tranquillity of the world as it should be. There were hundreds of pleasure cruisers glistening by the harbour, the sun playing on their masts and sails with an incessantly whitish gleam and glint that glittered like the most glorious jewellery. But this was much more than a gentle cruise around the Mediterranean. It was a journey to those far off distant lands where the memories of a British winter seemed like ancient history.

After a flight to Palma airport and a welcoming committee from the good citizens of Majorca we settled on board the deck of our boat rather like the British tourists who converged on Spain over 40 years ago when Spain was just a nation of daring, intrepid bullfighters and sangria drinking party animals. For some of us on board this must have been like a nostalgic trip back to 1974 when Majorca was rather like some exotic conquest and Spain was like an open door into Europe.

Then the Brits were rather like those nervous intruders on a foreign land that most of them had only seen on those two famous holiday TV programmes 'Wish You Were Here' introduced by Judith Chalmers and Chris Kelly on the commercial Thames TV and of course the BBC'S 'Holiday' programme where Cliff Michelmore would wax lyrical about Greek churches and Italian cathedrals.

Roll forward to 2018 and here we were back in Majorca where it all began for us in 1974, 1975 and every year since then to the present day. In Majorca we discovered pinball machines in hotel reception areas, immaculately made dining room tables, constantly musical jukeboxes and hundreds of bottles of English tomato ketchup, neatly upright packets of Corn Flakes and then, just for good measure, jars of Robertsons jam nestling comfortably next to marmalade and PG Tips tea packets. It was all very revealing, surprising and very much a culture shock to a nation that must have thought that anywhere north of Watford was just a world away from British shores.

So it was that my wife and travelled to our first port of call. On the gorgeous island of Sicily we encountered Palermo with its historic Italian ruins, the Palantine chapel and row upon row of streets and roads that seem to have been stuck in a time warp for many a decade and century. Italy is wonderfully old, very old in some places, a country steeped in history, tradition, religion and an antiquated beauty. But it longs to be loved by its tourists and there is a genuine sense of romance in the Italian air.

Wherever we went in Palermo we were confronted by an Italy that looked as though it hadn't really seen a decent lick of paint or any kind of new architectural improvements for centuries and many civilisations. Most of the shop fronts and all of the ornate homes with their wooden shutters seemed to be crumbling and must have felt criminally neglected. But Palermo was a little gem of Italy at its most understated and modest.

 There were metallic looking locked properties that looked both stern, uncompromising, dull and dirty, desperately in need of some tender loving care. But Palmero had winding, meandering streets with age old statues. tinkling water fountains with their very own melody, endearing street markets, a real European atmosphere. There were those lovely back streets, cobbled pathways that seemed to go on for ever.  There were the familiar, atmospheric and buzzy back street restaurants and cafes with menus prettily perched on well upholstered tables. There were of course the hugely imposing churches and breathtaking basilicas with very visible nods to Catholicism and Christianity throughout the ages.

Then we set off to Pisa and Rome, in between bracing days at sea. Rome, as the capital city, is still that formidable seat of religion and now very much multiculturalism. Of course there was the Colosseum, one of Rome and Italy's most stunning of all structures, a huge piece of Italian architecture that looks and has always looked as if half of the building has been permanently deprived of its full glory. The amphitheatre inside remains one of its most striking of features but to all intents and purposes it looks as though time has taken its toll on the old building. Since time immemorial part of the Colosseum still looks as if the top half has been mercilessly chopped and sliced off without giving it a second thought.

And now finally in the first half of my holiday diary there was Pisa or as most of us call it the 'The Leaning Tower of Pisa'. Now this wasn't quite what I might have been expecting. The old films and TV documentaries have always led us to believe that the 'The Leaning Tower of Pisa' was just a huge touristy construction that dominated the whole of Pisa like a massive monolith that was simply gigantic and monumental.

I have to tell you that personally the 'Leaning Tower of Pisa' was much smaller than I'd ever imagined. In fact it reminded me of a very small scale version of a Lego set. After walking through interminable back streets we almost came to the Leaning Tower by accident. But there it was creeping into view but somehow very much reduced in size, a building that looked as though it was about to collapse at any given moment, slanting severely towards the ground at its most acute angle but still steadfast and unyielding nonetheless. The citizens of Pisa must be immensely proud of their odd looking but happy tower because it'll never topple over completely so it may be best to leave it as it is.

So there you are Ladies and Gentlemen. My first in a very brief account of my now yearly cruising expedition to the world of exotic holidayland. I'll give you another chapter of our holiday in the sun in the fullness of time. I'd have sent everybody a postcard but we didn't have time and besides how many of us still send postcards from Spain, Italy and Greece? This may be time to polish off that last bottle of Spanish sangria. Oh yes, don't forget the donkey. How vitally important they were in any Spanish jaunt. Viva Espana indeed.