The boat to Barcelona is a 20 hour journey from Civitavecchia. We've stocked up with a bit of food. For less than 50 euros each we get a cabin. This wasn't the plan - we were planning on the usual deck passage despite our experience sailing to Ancona, but at the ticket counter they almost insisted that we take a cabin, at no extra cost. An offer we couldn't refuse.
Meanwhile the ferry terminal is filling up. We head off to a quiet corner outside to cook our dinner and watch the sunset. There are three or four ferries in the port - for Sardinia as well as Spain. Now the ferry terminal is rocking. There's a large group of teenagers singing and chanting. They are ushered outside even as more coaches pull up and disgorge more teenagers. Well-groomed teenagers, it has to be said. All at their blingiest best. Boys all sporting new haircuts. Trainers are white or bright white. The decibel level is still rising. "Thank goodness they'll be going to Sardinia" Gayle says.
At ten we have to pass through the customs check at our boarding gate. There are only a handful of foot passengers waiting. But at one minute to ten about twenty of the teenagers arrive. Uh-oh. Twenty more. A hundred more. And more. And more. All of them. We're on the ferry boat to hell. Twenty hours of hell. Except, wait, we've got a cabin. Yes!
The journey is much as expected. The ship has been invaded. Everywhere you look there are Italian teenagers trying to catch a look at themselves in a reflection. They are not rowdy or noisy, more like a flock of seagulls that has taken over the deck.
We arrive at Barcelona at about six the next evening. The harbour is huge and it seems like an hour from entering it before we finally dock. Now here's our plan - go straight to the terminal for boats to Menorca and get the midnight boat to Mahon, at the north eastern end of the island. We have time to cook dinner just along the road on benches where we can watch the comings and goings of the cruise ship passengers.
Just before midnight we are boarding our second ferry at an exhorbitant cost. It seems that island and mainland residents get a heavy discount on the fare, making it a cheap and good way to reach the Balearics. But not for foreign tourists. It would be cheaper to fly from Manchester. How ludicrous. We pay three euros more for use of a "VIP" lounge where we join a dozen or so other passengers in a quiet and comfy lounge. We pull out our sleeping mats and get a good night's kip on the floor.
Meanwhile the ferry terminal is filling up. We head off to a quiet corner outside to cook our dinner and watch the sunset. There are three or four ferries in the port - for Sardinia as well as Spain. Now the ferry terminal is rocking. There's a large group of teenagers singing and chanting. They are ushered outside even as more coaches pull up and disgorge more teenagers. Well-groomed teenagers, it has to be said. All at their blingiest best. Boys all sporting new haircuts. Trainers are white or bright white. The decibel level is still rising. "Thank goodness they'll be going to Sardinia" Gayle says.
At ten we have to pass through the customs check at our boarding gate. There are only a handful of foot passengers waiting. But at one minute to ten about twenty of the teenagers arrive. Uh-oh. Twenty more. A hundred more. And more. And more. All of them. We're on the ferry boat to hell. Twenty hours of hell. Except, wait, we've got a cabin. Yes!
The journey is much as expected. The ship has been invaded. Everywhere you look there are Italian teenagers trying to catch a look at themselves in a reflection. They are not rowdy or noisy, more like a flock of seagulls that has taken over the deck.
We arrive at Barcelona at about six the next evening. The harbour is huge and it seems like an hour from entering it before we finally dock. Now here's our plan - go straight to the terminal for boats to Menorca and get the midnight boat to Mahon, at the north eastern end of the island. We have time to cook dinner just along the road on benches where we can watch the comings and goings of the cruise ship passengers.
Just before midnight we are boarding our second ferry at an exhorbitant cost. It seems that island and mainland residents get a heavy discount on the fare, making it a cheap and good way to reach the Balearics. But not for foreign tourists. It would be cheaper to fly from Manchester. How ludicrous. We pay three euros more for use of a "VIP" lounge where we join a dozen or so other passengers in a quiet and comfy lounge. We pull out our sleeping mats and get a good night's kip on the floor.
