5th March 2016

This was our final breakfast at the Veranda Palmar Beach Hotel, and Sue picked a table by the pool to enjoy the meal. The sky was a flawless blue, and the sun was mercilessly blazing, roasting anyone who hadn’t sought shade or properly applied sunscreen and donned a hat. The heat dampened our appetites, so I kept it light with an omelette and some bread and cheese.

One minor frustration was the overzealous attentiveness of the waitstaff. The moment you finished a drink or plate, it would vanish without a trace, often before you’d even realised it was gone. I’m partial to a few glasses of fruit juice in the morning, but holding onto a glass long enough to refill it proved an almost impossible task. Today, I lost my glass three times, each time having to wait for a new one from the seemingly endless stockpile.

After breakfast, we headed back to our room to pack. It didn’t take long, so Sue settled on the verandah with her book, while I wandered around the hotel, discovering tucked-away spots like the pool room, gym, and table tennis area. Satisfied with my little exploration, I returned to the cool comfort of the air-conditioned room and indulged in a quick nap on the bed. Life’s tough, isn’t it?

By 11:45 am, we had checked out and found ourselves waiting in Reception for our taxi to Port Louis, ready for the next chapter of our adventure.

While we waited in Reception, we struck up a conversation with a young woman from Brighton who had arrived with us on the same flight. She was, to put it mildly, not a happy bunny. She rattled off a litany of complaints: her room was unsatisfactory, the service was subpar, the beach wasn’t up to scratch, the food was terrible, and the staff were unhelpful. Eek! And there I was earlier, grumbling about vanishing glasses.

We casually mentioned our misadventure with last night’s dinner, and that only seemed to reinforce her belief that she’d booked a holiday in Hades. With a sigh and a determined air, she left to speak with the manager. Sue and I exchanged glances and silently shook our heads, grateful that we had a far sunnier outlook on our stay.

Our taxi arrived right on time, and soon we were zipping through the mountains, chatting away as we made our way to the port to board the ‘NeoRomantica’. The journey took just under an hour, and check-in was impressively swift, probably the quickest we’ve ever experienced.

As expected, our cabin wasn’t ready, so we headed straight to the restaurant for lunch. Determined to keep things light, I started with a modest plate of salad… and then promptly went back for another. The blue cheese dressing was simply too good to resist, and surely it must be low-calorie, right?

After lunch, we spent some time exploring the decks, snapping a few photos, and eventually finding a comfortable spot to relax. Sue dived into her book while I began jotting down notes for this blog.

By mid-afternoon, we checked to see if our cabin was ready, and it was. We unpacked, I had a quick shower, and we settled in to read through the usual onboard literature while waiting for the mandatory lifeboat drill. On a Costa ship, this is always a ‘must-attend’ event.

Conveniently, our muster station is located in the chocolate bar. I’m fairly certain that if we ever find ourselves in a real emergency, Sue will be boarding the lifeboat with her pockets crammed full of sweets. With the drill completed, we returned to the cabin to freshen up and change for dinner.

Before heading to the restaurant, we made our way to the deck to watch the ship leave port, a ritual we both enjoy. Unfortunately, it turns out that this cruise doesn’t offer formal dining arrangements; instead, it’s buffet-style service again. While the food was varied and plentiful, we missed the social aspect of shared dining. Meeting fellow passengers over a meal is one of the best parts of cruising.

The other downside of the buffet, of course, is that I’m the one dishing up the food, and there’s nothing stopping me from going back for seconds (or thirds). My trousers are already feeling snug, and given that I had to buy a new dinner jacket before the last cruise, I’m beginning to wonder where this will end. Will I still be able to see my toes by the time we disembark?

We arrived early for the evening show, anticipating a full house. We weren’t wrong and managed to secure seats in the second row. The entertainment was top-notch: a lively mix of dancing, cabaret, singing, and magic, all topped off with some opera, as you’d expect on an Italian ship.

There was a bit of drama when an eccentric Frenchwoman took a seat meant for an Englishman’s wife and flatly refused to budge, despite repeated requests. Eventually, the staff resolved the standoff by dragging her chair a metre to the side and providing another one for the wife.

After the show, we took a leisurely stroll around the decks and shops before retiring to the cabin to test the pillows.

This is the smallest ship we’ve sailed on, with just 622 crew members, though we’ve no idea how many passengers are aboard. We were originally assigned a standard inside cabin but have been upgraded to a premium outside one, complete with a large sea-view window and a 50-inch TV. Not that either will get much use.

Being a smaller ship, we’ve already started to feel the swell, and I’m a little concerned about Sue’s sea legs. Only time will tell how her constitution holds up.

Good night. Let’s hope so!