4th February 2020

You encounter all sorts of people on a cruise, and while the Magellan is by no means the largest ship sailing the world’s seas, it certainly has its fair share of eccentric passengers.

It’s no surprise that any establishment offering unlimited food and drink 24 hours a day will naturally attract those of a more substantial girth. However, the opposite is also true; some are far more restrained in their eating habits, spending most of their time either on the sunbeds or in the gym, in relentless pursuit of their idea of the perfect physique. The real oddity lies in those who take either regime to the extreme. We now have a few individuals on board who bear a striking resemblance to Tutankhamun’s corpse, burnt-toast brown with skin like a wrinkled leather handbag.

Then there are those with more money than sense, who neither read the onboard literature nor listen to announcements and who clearly did no research before embarking. Conversations with fellow passengers have yielded some astonishing questions: Where does the ship get its electricity from? Did it rain last night? The sea seems much higher today. Has the captain turned the ship around? Our cabin is now on the other side!

Standing inside the prison on Devil’s Island, one couple enquired, We heard there’s a prison here, where is it? Meanwhile, as I was descending alone in the ship’s lift, it stopped at a floor where a lady stepped in and asked, Is this going down? (Onboard lifts only stop at a floor if they’re already travelling in the direction requested.) Amused, I quipped, No, this one goes sideways. She promptly stepped out.

We listened, incredulous, to the tale of one passenger (and there are plenty of similar stories) who was mugged in port while wearing a gold chain. Despite endless warnings in the ship’s daily magazine, the port and tour presentations, repeated Tannoy announcements, and crew reminders as passengers disembark, he still chose to flaunt his jewellery. His wife’s defence? He never takes it off; he’s worn it for years. Well, he certainly won’t be wearing it now.

Similarly, there are countless warnings for those unable to manage steps unaided or safely board a tender boat. Passengers are advised to observe the disembarkation process from the decks above and assess whether they’re physically capable of going ashore at anchor ports. Yet, delays caused by crew having to lift and manoeuvre struggling passengers in and out of tenders are common. Some have even fallen, sustaining serious injuries. The latest incident resulted in a broken hip, hospitalisation onshore, and an early flight home, an entirely avoidable situation. No one to blame but themselves, though no doubt someone will try.

However, the most absurd incident to date must be the fight that erupted over Brexit, on the very day the UK officially left the EU, no less. While I can understand the frustration both sides have endured over the past three years, failing to move on is sheer obstinacy. Risking ejection from an expensive cruise and having to fund your way home is nothing short of crass stupidity. Almost as foolish was the passenger caught on CCTV shoplifting from the ship’s boutique in Manaus. He and his wife are now somewhere between there and Holland, left to their own devices.

Our journey to the small Caribbean island of Tobago took a full sea day. For once, we didn’t have to tender ashore, as we were able to moor directly at the single dock in the capital, Scarborough. Over breakfast, Sue and I watched the procedure from the stern. The Magellan approached the concrete jetty, rotating a full 360 degrees before gently backing in alongside, an impeccable demonstration of parallel parking at sea.

The ship was scheduled to disembark passengers at 8 am, but a delay in clearing paperwork with the port authorities meant the first passengers didn’t leave until 9 am. We were among them.

A large number of excursions were departing for various adventures, but we had opted to explore Scarborough independently, having planned a route to take in the key sights.

As we passed fellow passengers queuing to board their excursion buses, we left the port and made our way along Main Street, heading uphill towards Fort King George, the imposing 18th-century fortification that dominates the city’s skyline. It had been refreshingly cool on the Magellan’s deck as we watched her moor, but on land, the heat was stifling, oppressively hot and humid, with oven-like warmth radiating from the uneven concrete sidewalks.

We had deliberately chosen to visit the fort first, hoping to tackle the climb in the relative cool of the morning. However, the delay had scuppered that plan, and we paid the price. As we trudged upwards, we were effortlessly overtaken by two fellow passengers. Later, in conversation, we discovered they were from Cairns, Australia, where such heat and humidity are the norm; our pride remained intact!

Columbus discovered the island in 1498, but since then, its rule has changed hands 31 times between the Spanish, Dutch, French, and British. Eventually, in 1814, Tobago was ceded to Britain before being annexed to Trinidad in 1889. The fort, originally built by the French, was later strengthened by the British.

Much of the fortifications remain intact, and many of the buildings are still in use; two have been converted into museums, an art gallery, and an information office, while the rest have been preserved in their original state. A few obligatory souvenir stalls sell tasteful local arts and crafts. The grounds are beautifully maintained, with lush, colourful exotic plants and trees adding to the charm.

As expected of any fortification, the site commands spectacular views over the port, city, and sea. Sue and I sat beneath the shade of a large tree covered in vivid scarlet blossoms, admiring the vista. At our feet, two small hens chirped inquisitively, growing excited each time we rummaged in our rucksacks for water, hopeful for a sandwich or biscuit. I apologised several times for having nothing to share, but they remained optimistic.

India has its sacred cows roaming freely everywhere. Tobago, on the other hand, has hens, far more convenient, and they leave much smaller deposits.

Having cooled ourselves in the breeze rising from the sea, we headed back down into the city, pausing briefly at a supermarket to buy ice-cold drinks. Our original plan had been to visit the marketplace next, but instead, we opted to return to the ship for more iced drinks and lunch.

We ventured out again around 1 pm, first to explore the market streets and then to visit the Botanical Garden. Wandering through the garden, we found ourselves darting from one patch of shade to the next, taking regular breaks on shaded benches. There were a few other visitors at the time, but as we were leaving, groups of smartly dressed schoolchildren began to appear, likely on their way home.

The garden is pleasant, though it doesn’t seem to house a great variety of plant species. However, it is well-used by the locals and serves as a welcome retreat from the relentless heat of the city’s concrete streets. It also offers a small window into island life, where people come to relax and unwind.

We took particular notice of the largest tree in the garden, which we jokingly christened the ‘Urine Tree’, after witnessing its unintended function on several occasions. It seemed to be thriving on its frequent watering.

Passing through the market streets once more, we made our way along the coastal road to the city beach. I had expected to find it bustling with locals and fellow cruisers, but aside from a couple of the latter, it was deserted.

We entertained ourselves by strolling along the tide line, searching for shells or anything of interest, but found nothing aside from a refreshing breeze and a stunning view of the ship framed by the backdrop of Fort King George.

Nearby, a small pavilion seemed to be the place for older children to sit with books and pencils in hand, diligently working on their school assignments. It was a charming sight to behold.

One of my lasting memories of Tobago is the warmth and friendliness of its people. They seem to wear a permanent smile and relish engaging in conversation, often ending with a burst of laughter. They live in a beautiful part of the world, and I get the sense that they truly appreciate it.

Our visit may have been brief, but I found myself drawn to the place, its people, and its relaxed atmosphere. I wouldn’t mind returning one day.