Day 20 (Sunday) was a waiting game – waiting for the extraction trip to begin. Jett was feeling a bit better, so she went down to the hotel bar for coffee and to write letters while I blogged. Then I joined her and we strolled down the street (a nice, sunny day, about 70 degrees). We made it as far as the Roman theater, which made me feel good because it meant that Jett got to see something that qualifies as a tourist site on this disaster of a trip. We had lunch at a café along the way and dropped in on a Sunday afternoon party with live music in San Francisco Plaza.

We also visited the remains of the first-century AD Roman roads that marked the center of Cartagena. We took a break at the intersection and tried to imagine what that corner might have looked like in the time of Christ. Quite different, I am sure.

One of the better days of the trip.

We had several messages from Tish in the morning which proved that she was doing her best to improve the itinerary, but, as expected, was not having any success. By noon the opportunity to switch the itinerary disappeared as I had to commit to taking the room for Sunday night.

In the afternoon we sat in the sun at the outside area of the hotel bar and I had a beer. Then we went upstairs to nap. We hoped to get to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner but, being Sunday, most places were closed. So we dined at the bar again then went back to the room to await the arrival of the van that would take us on the 3-hour trip to the airport in Valencia. We tried to sleep but were not successful.

By 12:30 am we were packed, had checked out of the room and were waiting in the lobby.

We were not looking forward to the trip, but it was time to get this disaster of a trip behind us.

On the morning of Day 18 (Friday) I learned, via a phone call, that the plan for our extraction, in the company of a nurse companion, involved a 3-hour ride by car to Valencia, a 3-hour flight to Frankfurt and a 9-hour flight to Miami. This thrilled me not at all. I believe the term I used to the travel consultant was “insane.” I tried to convince them that this itinerary would do more to kill Jett than traveling without a nurse. I tried to get an explanation as to why this itinerary was superior to a more direct one via Madrid, in the daytime, which would cut about 2 hours off of the flight times and would cost about $1000 less. Deaf ears.

In subsequent phone calls I learned that the nurse would arrive about 9 pm Saturday.

All of this was done while both Jett and I suffered through a day with severe head colds. We got out of the room (I should say rooms – more on this in a minute) long enough to eat lunch at a nearby cafeteria and dinner at the hotel restaurant but otherwise hunkered down and napped.

I said “rooms” because all doubles were booked at the hotel for Friday night, so we had to stay in two single rooms. I was able to get a double again for Saturday and Sunday nights. Yes, we have a room for Sunday even though we will be stealing away at 1 am like thieves in the night.

By Saturday morning our colds had improved a bit. We switched rooms at noon, then went out for a stroll and had lunch at a sidewalk café near the train station. After lunch we bought a couple of items at the nearby supermarket which was a very interesting place. Strange items (e.g., a package of baby eels that looked like worms – yummy!) and some very surprising prices (e.g., less than 59 cents for a baguette – a loaf of French bread).

After lunch Jett napped and I did some sightseeing, first visiting the Punic Wall, then climbing over 200 steps past the Cartagena Cathedral and up to the Castillo de la Concepción which has a museum and some panoramic views of the city. Finally I descended past the Roman Theater (very cool) and returned to the hotel for a nap.

The cathedral is a recent ruin – it was bombed in 1939 during the Spanish Civil War.

We went to a new café for dinner and Jett tried the tapas – a first (and probably last) for us. One of the tapas plates was sliced ham swimming in olive oil. Ew. For dessert Jett tried “Grandma’s cake” which was so sweet that we understood why Granny had no teeth. My custard was better, but bland.

We got back to the room by 8:30 pm and awaited the arrival of the nurse. She knocked on our door at 9 pm, right on time. Her name was Tish and she checked Jett’s vitals and we chatted a bit about Jett’s condition, what she would be doing for us on the trip back (pretty much everything, as it turned out) and about her nursing experiences in general. We liked her a lot and I am not saying that just because I gave her the blog address (Hi, Tish!).

She agreed that the 1 am pickup for a 7 am flight out of Valencia was insane and promised to try to get it changed. I wasn’t optimistic that she would be any more successful than I had been, but I was glad that she shared my view. If the plan proceeds, the trip Monday is going to be very difficult.

Jett passed her blood test and was released from the hospital. But it wasn’t as easy as it sounds. It was a day of telephone calls, text messages and trips to the reception desk. There was a problem getting the insurance paperwork sent to the hospital, due to a miscommunication of the email address. Ultimately, I had the email containing the forms sent to me and I forwarded it to every possible combination of the email address that I could think of. One of them worked.

The paperwork consisted of 8 pages – 5 for the doctor and 3 for me. I filled out my 3 pages and had the reception desk fax them back to the US. The doctor, however, did not get back to the hospital until the afternoon, so I spent the morning planning our escape route: train to Madrid, overnight in Madrid at the hotel at the train station, taxi to the airport, nonstop fight to Miami. Easy. But I couldn’t book anything until the doctor released her.

The doctor appeared around 3 pm and did, in fact, release her. I was not there at the time (I was out shopping), but saw him in the hallway shortly thereafter. He assured me that the paperwork had been sent to the US, that he had received a phone call confirming that everything was fine and that arrangements were being made to drive us to the airport. The first two pieces of news were comforting but the third was disturbing. Why were they telling the doctor about my travel arrangements when no one had spoken to me?

This left me a little suspicious, so I decided to check with the reception desk that the report in fact had been sent. Besides, I needed a copy of the report. When I got to the desk I found the person who spoke the best English on the phone, exasperated, saying “I don’t understand you.” I checked with the supervisor who said that he was talking with the insurance people and that they had a problem with the report because it was incomplete. It turns out that the “incomplete” was the 3 pages that I had sent earlier. The insurance company seemed to have difficulty collating the two portions that had been sent separately. Rather than argue about it, I added my three pages to the doctor’s 5 and sent them all as a batch.

Then we had to wait for the insurance company. First they had to confirm that the forms had been filled out completely (they had). Then we had to wait for their medical team to review the doctor forms and approve her for travel. That took until about 6 pm. Finally, at 6:30 we got our bags out of the room and down to the reception area and I paid the bill. Just as we were about to get a taxi I got a phone call from the insurance company informing me that their medical team had decided that Jett needed a travel nurse. And that travel arrangements would be forthcoming.

So much for the train/plane plans.

We were pretty deflated. All we could do is get a hotel room. And wait.

The good part of all this, if there is one, is the cost. Somewhat irrelevant as it is all covered by our travel insurance, but the three days in the hospital, with four units of blood, totaled less than $2,000. In the US I am sure it would have been over $5,000.

Jett remained in the hospital on Day 16 (Wednesday). I survived a night on the hospital room sofa (more like a weight bench with very little padding). While she received 2 more units of blood, I went exploring, more to get information on ways to get out of the city than to sightsee. But I did happen across some interesting scenes in the city.

I have learned that Cartagena was founded in the 3rd century BC by the Carthagenians and the name means either “New Carthage” or, more generically, “New City.” There are numerous ruins in an around the city. Most are Roman, though one portion of the original fortifications from the 3rd century BC remains – the Punic Wall. I passed by this wall but did not go inside to view it. Instead, I went to the train station to check out the train options. I am thinking that the best option will be to take a train to Madrid, get a hotel overnight, then fly out of Madrid to Miami. Of course that all depends on Jett getting released from the hospital, so I couldn’t book the tickets.

I also learned that Cartagena is, today, Spain’s primary naval port.

While walking around the city, I discovered that Jett was not the only one with physical problems. At one point in my 3-mile walk I had to stop and rest because my sciatica started acting up, first with pain shooting down my leg, then with my left thigh going numb. It went away, but it is cause for concern.

I also started sneezing and by the time I returned to the hotel, I could tell that I was getting my first cold in over two years. Not a great time to get sick. But, really, what did I expect, staying in a hospital?

It didn’t take long, once we were off the ship and in the hospital, to figure out that our cruise was over. The doctor said that Jett would be admitted for a minimum of 3 days of treatment and possibly more. That meant that the earliest we could reboard the ship would be in Monte Carlo, Monaco, which would be a long trip and would possibly require a plane trip. Given that we were far from certain whether she would be fit enough to reboard – and because no one could tell us why the hemoglobin was so low – we decided to terminate the cruise and try to get back to the US ASAP for further tests.

Which meant that I had to go back to the ship, collect the luggage, close the ship account, take the luggage through customs and try to find a hotel. As it turns out, I didn’t have to get a hotel. The hospital – Perpetuo Socorro Cartegena – would let me stay in the room with Jett. They even provided meals for me (hospital food – my favorite). The most annoying thing was that I was permitted to bring only 2 cartons of cigarettes ashore, which meant that I had to donate 3 cartons. I gave 2 cartons to security people at the gate (I don’t quite understand how giving cigarettes to people on shore is different than bringing cigarettes ashore) and gave the third to people in the smoking area of the ship. Our loss is their gain.

Very few of the nurses or other staff – including the ER registration desk – spoke English. We fought our way through the experience and, with the exception of my walkabout to check out the nearest hotel, stayed in the room all evening. The food was forgettable, the TV didn’t work and no ice was available. Pretty miserable.

My walk to the nearest hotel was somewhat interesting, though. The hotel looked quite nice, but with all the uncertainty about how long she would be in the hospital and how we were going to get back to the US, I opted to spend the first night with Jett. I also checked out the nearby department store – El Corte Ingles – which is the largest single store that I have ever seen. Eight stories. Huge. But the cafeteria also had no iced drinks, which was what I was most urgently seeking.

I am missing the ship already.

Malaga. This is a beautiful little port city with some great ancient fortifications and very interesting downtown and port areas. But it will always be associated in my mind with illness and loss because the day that started so well ended in disappointment in the infirmary.

Jett’s illness was unabated in the morning and we had agreed that she would see a doctor if she wasn’t better. But I didn’t get down to client services to find out how to get medical attention until 9:55 am and learned that the infirmary was closed between 10 am and 4:30 pm when the ship was in port. So I went into town and Jett went back to bed.

I spent about 4 hours in Malaga. I had attended the port talk aboard the ship but had forgotten what the main attractions were, so I just started to wander. It didn’t take long to find the cathedral, which is huge. It also charges an entrance fee and I was feeling both cheap and cathedraled-out after Fatima, so I skipped it.

I also skipped the Picasso Museum. I recalled that the museum contained mostly early works, before he became a cubist. Some people I talked to later said that there were some cubist paintings there, so I have a tiny bit of regret for not going in.

I spent most of my time in the Alcazaba, an 11th century Moorish palace and fortress. It is huge, beautiful and well worth the uphill walk. However, I couldn’t find my way back, so I ended up taking the elevator to the street.

At the base of the Alcazaba, in the heart of Malaga, is a Roman amphitheater dating from the first century. I treated myself to a cup of toffee caramel ice cream (not very creamy but very tasty) while admiring the ruins.

I made my way back to the ship on foot, first through a nice waterfront park, then along the marina itself. The surprise was the presence of The World, a “residential cruise ship” or “the largest yacht in the world.” We had read about this ship. It is basically a floating condo where the cheapest unit runs about $5 million, plus a huge HOA. The cool thing is that residents can have pets and ports are chosen by vote of the residents. Very cool to actually see it.

I then continued on to the beach – our first and only glimpse of an actual Mediterranean beach. Then back to the ship to take a nap, then go to the infirmary with Jett.

Which is basically where our cruise ended. Jett went in thinking she had pneumonia and was shocked to learn that her blood hemoglobin levels were so low that they didn’t even register. The doctor insisted that she get to a hospital for treatment ASAP, which meant in Cartagena the next morning and not, as we would have preferred, in Barcelona the day after that. The doctor said that her condition was very serious and “could turn on a dime.”

The most optimistic view was that she could get to a hospital, get an immediate blood infusion and return to the ship by the 1 pm departure. However, as I learned later, she would not be let back on board unless a doctor completed a “fitness to sail” form which certified that she was healthy enough to travel. Even without knowing that, it seemed highly unlikely that we would be able to reboard in Cartagena, so the most optimistic scenario would have her being treated and released the next morning and we would be able to scamper up to Barcelona to continue the trip. In any case, we had to act as if the cruise was over, which meant that I had to go back to the cabin (after a wonderful dinner with our tablemates who were very distressed to hear of her illness), pack up and be ready to disembark at 7 am.

I got to bed around 2 am and got, maybe, 3 hours of sleep.

I am told that Columbus embarked on his trip to the New World from Huelva, Spain, the port city for nearby Seville. I hope he had better weather than we did – cloudy and cool, with a little drizzle. The gloomy weather was compounded by Jett’s continuing illness, which is now less fever and more cough. She once again spent the entire day in the cabin and, except for trips to get food and drink, I was there with her.

I had considered taking the free shuttle into Huelva, but met our neighbor in the hallway when I was returning to the cabin with tea (yes, she is drinking tea instead of coffee, which shows how sick she is). They took the shuttle into town but didn’t even get off because it was Sunday and almost everything was closed.

So… another bad day. If she doesn’t improve by tomorrow we will have to go to the infirmary.

Day 12, Saturday, was the day of our scheduled trip to Fatima. But Jett remained too sick to leave the cabin, so I went alone. Well, not alone, exactly. I was accompanied by three other couples and a very nice young tour guide and driver. On the 90 minute trip north to Fatima he kept up a steady stream of informative chatter which included such nuggets as it takes a cork tree over 40 years to produce income. And that once they are 6 years old they are protected as national treasures which cannot be moved or removed until they die of natural causes. Which, of course, causes many cork trees to be killed before age 6 and many others to be poisoned to death surreptitiously when they are located inconveniently.

Fatima was interesting, but without the suffocating pathos that I witnessed many years ago in Lourdes, France, where doomed people went to find miracles. The most striking thing was the path from the new cathedral to the old cathedral (well, not quite – actually to the open-air chapel where nearly continuous masses were held) that was marked by white marble. This downhill path – over 200 yards by my estimation – was a route taken by penitents on their knees. Painful to watch and, I am sure, far more painful to traverse.

The new cathedral was huge, with over 7,000 seats. The altar was backed by a huge abstract scene in gold leaf, with an odd little red and black cutout in the lower right corner which was meant, I believe, to represent hell. It was impressive, if a little cold.

The old cathedral was much smaller but more to my liking. It featured the crypts of the three children who, in 1917, witnessed the apparition that made this little town world famous. Two died young, in 1918, of the Spanish Flu. The third lived a long and reverent life.

I also visited the museum which contains the many artifacts used in the annual celebration and the ones left there by visitors, including Pope Paul VI. There was a tour, but it was in Portuguese, so I didn’t get much from the talk.

We stopped at a supermarket in Fatima to buy food for lunch, which we ate in the minivan as we drove back to Lisbon. I got edam cheese, chocolate croissants and water, plus a large bag of Lay’s potato chips, all for less than $6.00. I was amazed as I expected prices to be sky high in a town visited by 9 million tourists every year.

We finished the day in Lisbon, visiting the Lisbon Cathedral, taking in the sights from an elevated vantage point and getting a sample of Lisbon’s famous custard pastries (superb!). We also got drive-by glimpses of the President’s residence, a Roman aqueduct, the Belem Tower and the Monument to the Discoveries.

When I returned Jett had rallied a bit and I got her out of the room long enough to grab some dinner in the Lido Cafe. But she still isn’t well. If she doesn’t recover on her own we may have to visit the ship’s infirmary.

On Day 10 (Thursday) we awoke with the ship docked in Funchal, Madeira, an island off the coast of Morocco which is owned by Portugal. We had nothing planned for the day, so after a leisurely breakfast we left the ship just to feel solid ground after more than a week at sea. I had no real expectations and no plans for any specific sights to see, so we boarded the free shuttle to downtown and simply strolled around for a bit. We dined at an inexpensive restaurant near the harbor and had some sandwiches served on some of the most flavorful mini baguettes that I have ever tasted. A real treat, particularly after a week of bland breads on board the ship.

I took a lot of photos but we bought nothing other than lunch. Until we got back to the ship, at which point Jett found a small cork purse that she simply had to have. So we laid out 30 euros (about $40) for a purse.

My impressions of Funchal… very pretty, very clean, very affordable. I enjoyed the few hours there very much. I did not have any Madeira wine, but I did have a glass of “poncha” at lunch, which is like an alcoholic orange/lemon drink. I am told that it is made from passionfruit, but it tasted like orange and lemon to me. It was okay but I won’t order it again.

The day ended on a sour note with Jett feeling sick immediately after returning to the ship. The illness rapidly developed and she skipped dinner that night. I went to the dining room alone and had a french onion soup with shredded beef – a first for me. I had spaghetti puttanesca for an entree (good) and something forgettable for dessert. I tried to attend the late show, but it was canceled due to high seas.

Yes, high seas. The ride into Madeira was a bit bumpy, but the ride out was worse. As soon as we left the harbor the ship began to rock violently. The captain said that 30 mph winds were forecast to hit the port side all night and the following day and the resulting roll was too much for the dancers. Show cancelled.

The evening was uncomfortable for me and worse for Jett who remained very sick. The following day (Friday, Day 11) was worse. The captain reported that the winds were even worse than forecast, topping 45 mph sustained – gale force winds. We stayed in our cabin all day and I barely managed to avoid upchucking. Jett remained feverish and generally miserable. The winds calmed a little in the evening, but the ship still lurched about. Not a good evening.

The days are starting to blend together.

The big event for me on Day 8 (Tuesday) was my first beer on board (not counting the beer tasting on Day 2).

I read on the aft deck for much of the afternoon, finishing Speaking in Tongues by Jeffery Deaver (described in the previous post). I worked on the second puzzle in the late afternoon and it was nearly complete when I left.

I had a jumbo shrimp cocktail and french onion soup for appetizers, both mediocre. The entree was a seafood macaroni, which was interesting but I wouldn’t get it again. We watched more Downton Abbey after dinner.

The seas on Day 9 (Wednesday) were the roughest yet. The ship rocked-and-rolled pretty energetically. The good news was that I felt fine. No seasickness whatsoever. I was even able to read on the deck without discomfort.

The captain gave a presentation at 9 am on the work done during the two weeks of dry dock work that immediately preceded our cruise. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the notice for this talk until I got out of bed at 9:30. However, I learned a lot about the work done from others who attended. As expected, the Deck 10 lounge and coffee bar are brand new. Also, I correctly surmised that our mattress was new. But so is everyone else’s – every passenger mattress was replaced. That was 17 cargo containers of mattresses.

I got to the port talk before dinner, but discovered that it was the same talk that I had heard a couple of days earlier. So I skipped out and instead went to the service desk to buy $200 worth of euros. The current exchange rate is $1.34 per euro.

Dinner was formal and we actually attended this one. Good thing because Dave skipped it, so if we hadn’t shown up Jeff and Judy would have been all alone. We all had the filet mignon (excellent) and I had a lemon mousse with a custard sauce that was the best dessert yet.