It all started here.
At the start of this cruise, the plan was that I join the Marco Polo at Lisbon on 8th January, and leave it at Barbados on 3rd February. But the ships itinerary changed (a fact I didn't find out until I received a text from Peter on the train to Luton Airport), and we were to visit Antigua on 3rd Feb and Barbados on 5th Feb.
I couldn't stay any longer than already arranged, so my plan changed. I decided to leave from Antigua on Friday 3rd February, not Barbados. Flights hadn't been booked so there wasn't a problem. Was there?
Reception
Peter and I went to reception to check off the ship and get my passport. The lass there was quite happy, once the bill was paid, (which still showed that I was due to disembark at Barbados in two days time), confirming there was nothing left for us to do so we then went down deck five to take the walkway off the ship.
Security
The security guy was happy to swipe me off, and I thought I better let them know I wasn't coming back, (so they could keep their passenger count in order and not wait for me). This caused confusion. I wasn't on list to leave the ship. He said I had to go back up reception. We said we'd already been to reception. He rang reception, and then told us we had to go back to reception. Peter got cross. We went back up to reception. There, a different receptionist was putting down the phone on a call that confirmed everything was done and I could leave the ship. We went back down to the walkway on deck five and this time the security guy let me leave.
The airport
A quick goodbye to Peter, and then I was in the taxi to the airport. The traffic was really jammed and slow and I think it must have taken us half an hour to get there. Not a problem, as I had plenty of time. I went straight to the Virgin Atlantic desk where the girls checked my online booking and gave me my boarding pass. No luggage, so everything is dead simple.
Emigration
My next stop was to go through a door marked "Emigration"? Everyone was going through it, including all the holiday makers, so it must be right. I sort of half noticed some signs about filling in an emigration form and emigration tax. I waited in line until it was my turn to speak to the guys in the booths and give them my passport. I was asked for an emigration form. Huh? So I had to go find one. Stocks had run out so I had to go back to the Virgin desk and the girl there helped me fill it in. I had no idea what I was doing or why. So now it was back to the emigration desk.
Confusion
They were confused. I had not immigrated. Why had I not immigrated? I explained that I had arrived on a ship that morning. They called over the supervisor. She demanded to know why I had not immigrated - everybody immigrated, including people off ships. I explained I didn't understand and had arrived on a cruise ship that morning. She softened and became very helpful. Apparently, because I was leaving the ship permanently, I should have gone through immigration on the quayside. I could not go out through the emigration desk because I had not immigrated in. She tried to get my details pushed through airport immigration, but they were having none of it. They insisted I had to return to the quayside where the ship was docked and get the Port Agent to agree my immigration there.
A mad dash to immigrate
It was now about 4 o'clock. I went back to the Virgin desk, and explained to the staff that I had to get a taxi back to the quayside, get my immigration approved, and then come back to the airport and I might be running a bit late. Everybody looked at their watches, concerned. They took my mobile number so that they could ring me and check on progress, explaining that the last boarding call was at 4.45pm.
I think my stress levels were at their highest whilst waiting in the queue for a taxi (no, they wouldn't let me queue jump). Once in it, I texted Peter to meet me at the immigration office and that I needed money to pay the taxi fares. That confused him. On the phone I explained, so he found the immigration office, and popped in to check that they could deal with me right away. That was OK. The taxi driver did his best, but the Caribbean traffic is a nightmare, and the people are very relaxed, nobody hurries as they park, pedestrians don't rush as they cross the road. I remained calm, but underneath I was absolutely petrified it was all going to go wrong. Did I have enough money to pay for another flight? When would there be another flight? What about my train at the other end.? Would I have to go back to the ship? Would I have to stay overnight? Where would I stay? Was it safe?
We got to the quayside where Peter was waiting for me. The immigration desk staff were dead relaxed and not in a hurry. The Port Agent showed up and did whatever he had to do. I filled in a form, the immigration clerk stamped it, then she stamped my passport and then I was done.
Just in time.
Back in the taxi, the driver made a few nifty moves to get me back as fast as possible. At the airport I went straight to the Emigration desk. He remembered me, and told me I had plenty of time, but I could hear the tannoy system making the final calls for my flight. Through security, (again "This is the final call for Virgin Flight........."), straight to the departure gate, and there were the Virgin staff I'd seen earlier. They all remembered me and were pleased that I'd got there. I texted Peter as I walked to the plane. "Made it". What a relief!
England
You'd think that would be it wouldn't you. Nah. England had it's own tricks in store for me. For a start, it was absolutely freezing. -5 degrees C. I was very, very tired, having only managed a few cat naps during the flight. I had far too much time between my arrival at Gatwick and my train leaving, and it really was cold. Gatwick railway station was much colder than the airport, so I stayed in the airport until it was time to catch my train.
As I said, it was absolutely freezing and that was the problem. The signals and the points around Gatwick had all frozen putting the timetable into a state of confusion. I waited for my train, which displayed as "on time". But it didn't show. I ended up on a completely different one which actually worked in my favour. I ended up at London Bridge, not Victoria as I was supposed to, and got the tube from there. Good job as it turns out, the tube trains were in a muddle and the Victoria Line was closed.
Kings Cross Station
Kings Cross wasn't much better. They had a sort power cut which only effected those areas that I happened to need to use, namely the loos and all the display notices telling you which train is leaving from which platform. The girl on the information desk was doing a brilliant job, answering everyone's questions and shouting out which train was leaving from where. I got to my train with plenty of time, and collapsed into my seat. My daughter would be waiting for me at the other end, ready to take me to Richmond.
Welcome home.
Antigua visit 2011 St John's visit 2012
I couldn't stay any longer than already arranged, so my plan changed. I decided to leave from Antigua on Friday 3rd February, not Barbados. Flights hadn't been booked so there wasn't a problem. Was there?
Reception
Peter and I went to reception to check off the ship and get my passport. The lass there was quite happy, once the bill was paid, (which still showed that I was due to disembark at Barbados in two days time), confirming there was nothing left for us to do so we then went down deck five to take the walkway off the ship.
Security
The security guy was happy to swipe me off, and I thought I better let them know I wasn't coming back, (so they could keep their passenger count in order and not wait for me). This caused confusion. I wasn't on list to leave the ship. He said I had to go back up reception. We said we'd already been to reception. He rang reception, and then told us we had to go back to reception. Peter got cross. We went back up to reception. There, a different receptionist was putting down the phone on a call that confirmed everything was done and I could leave the ship. We went back down to the walkway on deck five and this time the security guy let me leave.
The airport
A quick goodbye to Peter, and then I was in the taxi to the airport. The traffic was really jammed and slow and I think it must have taken us half an hour to get there. Not a problem, as I had plenty of time. I went straight to the Virgin Atlantic desk where the girls checked my online booking and gave me my boarding pass. No luggage, so everything is dead simple.
Emigration
My next stop was to go through a door marked "Emigration"? Everyone was going through it, including all the holiday makers, so it must be right. I sort of half noticed some signs about filling in an emigration form and emigration tax. I waited in line until it was my turn to speak to the guys in the booths and give them my passport. I was asked for an emigration form. Huh? So I had to go find one. Stocks had run out so I had to go back to the Virgin desk and the girl there helped me fill it in. I had no idea what I was doing or why. So now it was back to the emigration desk.
Confusion
They were confused. I had not immigrated. Why had I not immigrated? I explained that I had arrived on a ship that morning. They called over the supervisor. She demanded to know why I had not immigrated - everybody immigrated, including people off ships. I explained I didn't understand and had arrived on a cruise ship that morning. She softened and became very helpful. Apparently, because I was leaving the ship permanently, I should have gone through immigration on the quayside. I could not go out through the emigration desk because I had not immigrated in. She tried to get my details pushed through airport immigration, but they were having none of it. They insisted I had to return to the quayside where the ship was docked and get the Port Agent to agree my immigration there.
A mad dash to immigrate
It was now about 4 o'clock. I went back to the Virgin desk, and explained to the staff that I had to get a taxi back to the quayside, get my immigration approved, and then come back to the airport and I might be running a bit late. Everybody looked at their watches, concerned. They took my mobile number so that they could ring me and check on progress, explaining that the last boarding call was at 4.45pm.
I think my stress levels were at their highest whilst waiting in the queue for a taxi (no, they wouldn't let me queue jump). Once in it, I texted Peter to meet me at the immigration office and that I needed money to pay the taxi fares. That confused him. On the phone I explained, so he found the immigration office, and popped in to check that they could deal with me right away. That was OK. The taxi driver did his best, but the Caribbean traffic is a nightmare, and the people are very relaxed, nobody hurries as they park, pedestrians don't rush as they cross the road. I remained calm, but underneath I was absolutely petrified it was all going to go wrong. Did I have enough money to pay for another flight? When would there be another flight? What about my train at the other end.? Would I have to go back to the ship? Would I have to stay overnight? Where would I stay? Was it safe?
We got to the quayside where Peter was waiting for me. The immigration desk staff were dead relaxed and not in a hurry. The Port Agent showed up and did whatever he had to do. I filled in a form, the immigration clerk stamped it, then she stamped my passport and then I was done.
Just in time.
Back in the taxi, the driver made a few nifty moves to get me back as fast as possible. At the airport I went straight to the Emigration desk. He remembered me, and told me I had plenty of time, but I could hear the tannoy system making the final calls for my flight. Through security, (again "This is the final call for Virgin Flight........."), straight to the departure gate, and there were the Virgin staff I'd seen earlier. They all remembered me and were pleased that I'd got there. I texted Peter as I walked to the plane. "Made it". What a relief!
England
You'd think that would be it wouldn't you. Nah. England had it's own tricks in store for me. For a start, it was absolutely freezing. -5 degrees C. I was very, very tired, having only managed a few cat naps during the flight. I had far too much time between my arrival at Gatwick and my train leaving, and it really was cold. Gatwick railway station was much colder than the airport, so I stayed in the airport until it was time to catch my train.
As I said, it was absolutely freezing and that was the problem. The signals and the points around Gatwick had all frozen putting the timetable into a state of confusion. I waited for my train, which displayed as "on time". But it didn't show. I ended up on a completely different one which actually worked in my favour. I ended up at London Bridge, not Victoria as I was supposed to, and got the tube from there. Good job as it turns out, the tube trains were in a muddle and the Victoria Line was closed.
Kings Cross Station
Kings Cross wasn't much better. They had a sort power cut which only effected those areas that I happened to need to use, namely the loos and all the display notices telling you which train is leaving from which platform. The girl on the information desk was doing a brilliant job, answering everyone's questions and shouting out which train was leaving from where. I got to my train with plenty of time, and collapsed into my seat. My daughter would be waiting for me at the other end, ready to take me to Richmond.
Welcome home.
Antigua visit 2011 St John's visit 2012
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