Category: Cleo’s cruise

Sunny with intermittent showers / High of 23° / 22’927 steps

We got into port a little “later” than usual with disembarkment at 9am so I got to have a lie in. I’ve done absolutely no research for this city except for reading the blurb on Google Maps. I head in a straight line towards the city, the port is right in the middle so it’s not far to walk for once. I kind of aimlessly wander about, accidentally following some poor lady. I see street signs for one of the main attractions listed on Maps, the Tower of Hercules. On the way there I spot a small beach that also has this sort of secret passage to one side. After nearly going into the English Channel, Vans and all just two days prior, I take my shoes and socks off, roll up my pants and walk straight in. The Atlantic Ocean is fucking cold. I also regret my decision when I realize that now I’ll be walking around with sandy socks.

Around the tower is this amazing green zone with information about the biodiversity and random menhirs. I sit on some rocks by the edge of the ocean admiring the view and shaking as much sand as possible out of my socks. Once I’m satisfied with my comfort level, I continue along. I take some pictures and selfies with a rainbow, thinking how beautiful it was and not realizing that that was just an announcement of the weather to come. It started to spit in the beginning and I don’t really mind, I’m not made of sugar, but it very quickly starts to hammer down. I manage to find some shelter and I plan my next move. I decide on the aquarium that’s pretty close because at least it’s indoors. As soon as the rain lightens, I’m on my way.

The rain slows to a complete stop, with sun and all, by the time I get to the aquarium. This break lasts the whole time I’m in the aquarium, and obviously the deluge starts again as soon as I’m 10m away from the aquarium. The aquarium is a lot of fun though and I even have a weird French / Spanish conversation with a child. I continue along the coast and the big beaches, resisting the urge to get sandy socks again. I head back into town through the pedestrian zones and the overpriced shops. I bump into a guy that I’ve made kind of friends with by having a fan on the dance floor, my weekends of clubbing experience coming in clutch. My lunch is a Spanish tortilla from the Dia and a KFC that I didn’t have to pay an arm and a leg for. I’m reminded of yet another reason I didn’t want to leave Madrid two years ago. The rest of my afternoon is spent window shopping before heading back to the boat for the much needed, culturally appropriate, siesta.

Cloudy with a heavy breeze / High of 20° / 23’142 steps

We get into port around 7am. I’m awake at 6:30, excited to be back in a country that I speak the language. There’s the bonus that we’re back to a currency that doesn’t give me a heart attack buying a coffee. I disembark on a dark and cold dock. I fight my way against the wind to the city proper. I knew I wasn’t going to spend the day in Le Havre itself as my friends had so kindly described it as the ugliest port town. My alternate plan was going to a town an hour bus ride away, Étretat. Finding the station should have been easy, but I managed to follow the signs to the station parking instead. I eventually manage to get to the bus station and I even manage to find the ticket office. The bus ride actually goes by quickly and I’ve managed to get the bus with an average amount of tourists. When we get in to Étretat, I manage to walk quicker than my fellow tourists and get to the beach first. It’s not hugely difficult considering the average age of tourists at this time of the year is retirees.

The beach is cold, windy and smells of algue. The sun is shining and the waves sound like a proper ocean. I’m instantly in love. The only thing stopping me from putting my feet in is the fact I’m wearing stockings. I’m here for the beautiful cliffs so I pick the one closest to me and go up a set of steep stairs

and then the rest of the hill, stopping and taking pictures and selfies all the long. I prove my shirt true and fall into some thistles trying to get the most Instagram-able photo.

I go back the way I came, across the boardwalk and up a hectic pathway. The views from these cliffs are as breathtaking as the climb to get to them. After I get back down I play with the waves for a while, guessing where the wave is going to hit and then jumping back at the last minute. I definitely amused some of the looker ons.

I’m starting to get hungry so I finally head to the tourist office, on a mission for this town’s best crêperie. I get given two addresses, in case one is closed. The first restaurant recommended to me is closed so I go to the second one. I have an amazing crêpe and a glass of cider, for me the perfect meal in Normandie. There’s a bit of an issue with the card machine when I try to pay so I get to explore the town further while finding an ATM. I had started feeling unwell in the restaurant, my brain convinced I was still on a rocking boat and my stomach violently saying that I was not, so I head back to the buses.

The bus on the way back is slightly more full and as such I have some woman sit basically on top of me. Despite the fact a seat opens up next to her family and I look like I’m one rough bump away from showing the bus exactly what I had for lunch, she stays besides me so she can read her sisters messages over her shoulder and play with her niece who is jumping up and down on the seat in front of me. I see we’re almost at Le Havre beach so I escape. Staring at the sea makes me feel a lot better. I walk through the city, heading in the vague direction of a Primark I saw earlier to get myself a different jersey. I stumble across both a small park and the city hall on the way. No marriages today though. After my pit stop at the mall, I go back the weirdest possible way to the ship. I go through what feels like the whole of Le Havre’s industrial zone,and over a whole bunch of bridges that rotate. I do have a moment of paranoia every time I go over one, but I get back to the boat in one piece.

Partly cloudy and windy / High of 18° / 25’796 steps

We arrived bright and early after a night of dancing, some things in my life stay constant. I got the day’s map from a tourist information worker who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there. It’s cold with minimal sun and the wind cuts straight through my jersey so I can understand. I follow everyone else, but especially the group who looks like they’ve been here before. We go through the empty fishmonger district, over one bridge and then over another. I manage to find a spot out of the wind long enough to actually look at my map. I plan my itinerary out and start walking. I decided to start out going down the shopping street, firstly because it’s the opposite direction to the recommended walking tour and also because I’m hoping to find a nice windbreaker. All the stores are closed, it’s only 9:30 so I continue my mental itinerary to the old town. The buildings are beautiful, made of white painted wood,the only remnants after a fire burned down most of the town. I don’t take many photos as most of them are obviously someone’s house, their inhabitants in their windows and even on their patios. I do manage to find the most amazing place that offered both Chakra alignment and spray tan.

I head out of old town and over a bridge and figure out pretty quickly that this is the residential zone so I double back over a different bridge. I’m heading back to the shopping district as I’m definitely cold now. I stop in at the Starbucks to wait for 11am, the time listed on the doors that the stores open on Lørdag. Now if you speak Norwegian, you’ll probably notice that means Saturday and our ship got into port on a Sunday. No matter, I’ll just have to keep moving. I head off in a different direction, kind of over this small town with only tourists and one weird guy hanging out in front of the Macdonald’s. I head down a street with three different tattoo parlors, I think I just have a sixth sense for them, and eventually end up in the back corner of the little town. There’s some beautiful street art on the back of a building and as I continue along there’s a whole tunnel full of graffiti.

I come out on the other side and spot the other thing I have a sixth sense for : trains. I spot the electric lines and all of a sudden the hunt for the train station is on. I have to make a detour due to road works, some things in my life really do stay constant, but I get to the train station that has FIVE platforms. There’s not a train in sight much to my disappointment.

I’ve officially had Enough™ of this town and head back to the boat. The sun has come out during my little morning adventures and I see that the “front” coastline is actually quite beautiful and has a couple of interesting points. There’s some fountains, a dock of ducks and then I get to a fort. I go up some stairs to a little observation point where I see a whole bunch of kites. I go the long way around to where I saw the kites so I could have a little selfie pit stop. It turns out to be a whole festival, so I plonk myself in the grass and watch as one tiny lady handles an eagle shaped kite that is almost twice her size. It’s warm in the sun and I’ve managed to phase out the wind so I nap a little in the grass.

The sun goes behind a cloud, that’s my cue to change activities. I quick stop next to the Starbucks to use their wifi reveals that there’s not a single sports bar in this place. Resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t be able to watch the Formula 1, I go back to the fishmonger district to try and find something to eat. I go to the restaurant that has the least amount of people and manage to get a waitress who’s from Bordeaux, the same place as one of my friends. We chat a little but I’m chased off the terrasse by an overly curious wasp and she has to deal with the worst clients possible: cruise ship guests. I then go back to the boat for free drinks because seeing triple digits on my bill once again really has traumatized me.

Sunny / High of 25° / 35’926 steps

I started my day in Copenhagen with the most amazing tourist information worker. He was friendly and so so patient explaining the map, public transport and the different tickets. I then caught the bus, the metro and ended up at the main station.

I got to stare at the Danish trains and wonder what voltage they used for a little while. I eventually moved on and went past the entrance to Tivoli Gardens, the oldest amusement park in Europe, and all the people queuing. I managed to make it past the Lego shop without buying anything, a true miracle. I followed the flow of tourists (with the help of my map) to the town hall square where I saw a wedding. There was also the Scientology church, which I recognized from the Behind the Bastards podcast. From there I wandered down the shopping street, where I unfortunately indulged in a pastel pink bullet journal. I also went to Flying Tiger where I got (even more) earings. I eventually found myself in front of the statue of some guy on a horse. I saw another guy on a horse across a bridge so went and took a picture and then consulted my map again. I decided to make my way to the main canal to try and catch one of the public transport boats. I go past the museum of architecture and realize very quickly that if I visit that museum, I’ll miss my boat.

I see the next boat is in 17 minutes but I’m too impatient to wait and I promised to check out a café. I use the museum’s wifi to check where the café is, and it’s back where I’ve just been, damn. I head back, going a completely different way. I have an amazing lunch even though with the currency change I nearly had a heart attack when I saw triple digits on the bill. I decide to just pick a direction and walk from the café. I manage to find a park with beautiful planted paths and scattered rose gardens. I take some selfies and I slowly clock the weird looks and side eyes I’m getting. I figure out that it’s due to my “influencer” top, my greatest joke.

I’ve also somehow gotten to the middle of the isle, so I decide to walk in the general direction of the ship and see what I find on the way. A lot of rosebush covered buildings apparently. I also somehow come across another green space, this one with the military guarding the entrance. Ah. Just past the army men is a couple doing their wedding photos and I admire the grooms deep green tux. I continue on the path and come across a completely different wedding party, it sure is the day for it. I walk up the “ramparts” which is just grassy hills with a moat. From my higher vantage point I see a large group of obvious tourists, this must be the Little Mermaid statue. I follow the ramparts down and then figure my way to the statue.

I take my pictures and, despite being as quick and respectful as possible, my shirt gets me some dirty looks and a rather judgmental comment. I quickly head back, deciding for the second time that I’m going to try and catch a boat. No luck, they were both full and it seemed like that would continue so I start walking in the vague direction of a metro. I go past a huge “party”, basically Maesk showing off their green fuel cargo boat engine. It’s super interesting to read about. I start to really have sore feet by now so I try to find a metro. I find another guy on a horse first, this one is Julius Cesar.

I make a quick pitstop at a different train station to stare at more trains before heading back to the boat.

Cleo taking over the page to describe my holidays ahahaha.

My adventure starts in Lausanne, leaving my cat with a new toy and a stern reminder to behave for his sitter / aunt. I negotiate the bus, metro and the permanent building site called Lausanne station with a big suitcase in hand, and a kit bag and handbag over my shoulder. My train is only 3 minutes late despite a whole section of train tracks blocked off. I settle in with my headphones and alternate between tiktok, sudoku with my own music and obsessively checking all my online travel documents. I get to Zurich, get confused by such a big station and manage to finish 20m from where I started while having gone the long way around. All’s well that ends well, because I manage to get my tram and impress a guy by weilding my suitcase like it weighed 5 kilos.

Once off the tram, I pull up Google Maps and dutifully follow the instructions down a tiny, apparently two way road and then down a set of stairs. For some reason Maps is lagging so I wait on the sidewalk, looking around while I wait for it to sort itself out. I spot the hostel sign at the same time some guy in a car spots me. I know I’m not exactly inconspicuous with a bright orange suitcase, but I was not expecting a sidewalk conversation either. The guy tries to start a conversation in German, but quickly switches to French when he sees my look of total incomprehension. He’s curious as to why I’m in Zurich and for how long. I explain it’s just for the night because I have an early flight out of Zurich Airport. It turns out he only works in Zurich but lives in Bienne. I don’t know why he thinks I care, because I really don’t, but he seems determined to have a conversation with me. He eventually gets the hint and I finally arrive at the hostel.

At the hostel I’m greeted by an elderly woman who barely reaches my shoulder, she explains the set up in one word explanations and walks very quickly. I meet one of my dorm mates, a Parisienne who’s in Zurich doing a course for her new job. We quickly bond over our shared language, Vans and pierced nose. We grab some diy dinner from the local supermarket and then go out to the gardens to smoke. A cigarette for me, and a joint for her. Outside are two guys already smoking, talking in American accented English. My new friend and I continue talking in French and much to our surprise the two speak French as well, one of them is even from Yverdon. I give my sympathies as someone who was there nearly every week for four years. We talk about travel, clubbing, music and drugs. The drugs part mainly because I haven’t puffed and only passed the joint which leads into the discussion of which drugs we have or want to try and those that we wouldn’t touch ever. We also talk about food which makes us hungry, so my friend and I head to the kitchen where we find an Italian guy preparing a whole tray of tofu. He tries to convince me that my joke plan of going out clubbing until my 4:30am taxi is a good idea. I explain that I’m far too tired from a 7 day work week and also I’m not prepared to pay Zurich prices for a club.

The next morning I wake exactly 10 minutes before my alarm, which means I can wake my roommates with my mainly discreet stripping of the bed, and my three goings from the room. I manage to get the pavement at the exact same time as my taxi driver. We manage to communicate with my broken German and him talking slowly, and at the same cadence as if I was a child. He makes such a show putting my suitcase in the boot that I start to panic about weight allowances. He checks who I’m flying with so he can drop me off at the correct terminal and then starts chatting with me. We talked about the stupidity of the 30km/h zones outside of pedestrian priority zones, and about our jobs and how difficult it can be to take holiday in our industries. He tells me he’s going to recommend my bar to anyone he knows going to Lausanne and to be fair if I know anyone who’s likely to use a taxi in Zurich, I’ll definitely hand over his number. We stop at the door right in front of my baggage drop. He makes sure I’ll be okay with all my heavy (17kg) bags and I’m feeling pretty good about my language skills at dark thirty in the morning. I decide to try and use the machines that print your ticket for you because there’s less people and then I can go to priority bag drop. For whatever reason my machine does not work so I get help not only printing my tags but also putting them on, nice. Bag now in the hands of Swiss, I go to security which was quick and easy. I’m past security, a bathroom break and in the middle of a phone call that does not match the vibe of the holiday, that it finally clocks that I haven’t, at any point, had to show my passport. At Geneva, I would have shown my passport already twice if I’m going off my experience when going to Spain. I don’t even have to show it to get on the plane, obviously Zurich doesn’t care who’s going out.

Once I’ve landed in Hamburg, I join 4 elderly couples and one elderly, grumpy, lady to catch the transfer bus to Kiel. I’ve barely sat down on the bus and I’m already passed out sleeping. A bus trip of I don’t know how long, gone in the blink of an eye. I go through the long and boring process of check in and realize two things. I should have brought a thicker jersey and all these people have a piece of paper with a barcode that I don’t have. I get my funky little card and at the foot of the ship I explain my situation and have to get checked in manually, whoops! It only took two minutes so it was okay. I was finally on the boat.