This is the second time I've done a transatlantic, but the first time I have started in Southampton. It's also the second time I'd cruised with P&O, the last one being an averagely ok cruise on the Ventura. Most of my previous cruising had been with Princes, but I also had two recent Cunard cruises under my belt too.
My expectations weren't that high, but after taking general advice I'd selected the Azura as people generally found that to be a decent ship. I was hovering over a slightly cheaper, and a week earlier, identical itinerary on the Britannia, but I found a significant number of scathing reviews online which put me off. I'd sailed on the Britannia’s sister ship straight out of the ship yard (on a 50% full preview cruise), which I found to be lovely but with pokey balconies and not enough pools. The deciding factor was that Britannia only appeared to have two “free” hot tubs and I didn't find the prospect of sitting in nearly 4,000 other people's verrucas that appealing. The result was we selected the slightly more expensive Azura crossing instead.
Atlantic Crossing
We took an Eavesway coach down from Trowel Services which was cheaper than two first class train tickets on a Friday, but seemed an unnecessarily long journey with an hour cooling our heels at Cherwell Valley on the way. That said, they navigated us around a big traffic accident and we didn't see our cases again until we were on board.
We arrived at the port about an hour or so before our stipulated time, but went in anyway. We were on board in about half an hour. The ship was reasonably full (best guess around 95%) and was a broad mixture of ages from early 20s to well past retirement. There was also a fair few kids and young children plus a fine range of women with home hair colours and a great many tattoos.
Muster drill was the same as always but read by the captain who clearly wasn't very good at the public-address system. He read in a monotone manner, garnished with unnecessary punctuation with an odd emphasis on random minor words. I thought this might be an issue while reading scripts, but alas during unprompted announcements throughout the cruise the same toe-curling effort of speaking on the PA was painfully obvious. By contrast, he was quite relaxed in person, and unspeakably handsome. He earned the nickname “Captain Smugwash”.
The first few days at sea were grey and cold and a little bumpy. We then landed in the Azores, and while I won't give much of a commentary about the various stops, it was worth noting that upon our arrival it was a religious holiday and therefore everything was closed, in addition to being wet and cold.
Once back on board we were told by Smugwash that the ship had broken down and that we'd be late leaving. In fact, we heard from him again several times to say that they needed a new part and one was being flown over from Germany and that we'd have a “bonus day” on this windswept Atlantic island.
We did make the most of the additional day, by renting a car at the pier. Once back on board the Smugwash told us testing was going well and we'd be on our way that evening. As it happened, we pulled off the birth at about 9pm and had 4 sea days to do 5 days’ worth of traveling.
The next day was hot and sunny, followed by another dreary one which then got progressively warmer as we battled further south.
The rest of the crossing wasn't rough by any means, but the additional speed we were tackling it at meant that the stabilisers weren't doing a brilliant job of keeping up, which resulted in little of the Atlantic swells being evened out. I enjoyed a rather exciting swim in an energetically moving pool one evening, which allowed me to experience once again that cruise ship only activity of uphill swimming. The weather was either cloudy, wet or mildly sunny (which alternated about once an hour). In only managed to use the gym twice, as during the second session the pitching of the ship caused me to wrong-foot myself on the treadmill, meaning my ankle spent the next week twinging on and off.
We were updated daily with progress but assured we'd still get to St Maarten as planned. The Smugwash also announced that his wife had given birth while we were at sea and he'd be leaving the ship at the next port, although he was either nonplussed by the upcoming nappy changing or the emotionless voice was disguising a deep excitement.
We eventually polled into port in St Maarten about 12:30pm, although on the day of arrival no announcements were made on when we might arrive. I guess Smugwash was too busy packing.
The replacement captain introduced himself at the scheduled all-aboard time, whose deep Italian accent extruded both warmth, informality and authority. He explained that we'd be late leaving due to an issue with a tour boat and again we eventually departed about 21:30 while the Caribbean deck buffet and tropical rainstorm were simultaneously underway.
The new captain also had charming of signing off all announcements with the single word “captain”. He was simply nicknamed “Captain Captain”.
Food and Service
The main dining room we were allocated was on deck 5 which was freedom dining. We ate there about ¾ of the evenings we had on board. The first few nights we turned up about 19:30 and had to wait for a table of 2. The maximum wait we ever had was about 25 minutes, but typically more like 10. However, if you turn up just after 20:00 you’d normally be seated straight away.
Service was fine. If you had a pager you'd be normally be seated on the bench section where there'd be about 3 or 4 couples sat at the same time. This is where the service was more production line as they'd do each table in turn, so it was basically like a table of 8 with enough space between you to ignore your neighbours if you wanted. There was nothing wrong with the service but it was business like and brisk. However, if you turned up at the slightly later time you generally got sat somewhere on your own and you got more traditional attention and far more personal service.
I didn't remember there being many gripes about the menu last time I sailed with P&O, but it felt like there had been a marked improvement in the choices available with some very balanced sounding dishes. The only nights where I felt more limited were black tie nights meant Marco’s menu replaced the always available favourites. Personally, I felt it was a better menu on non-formal nights. The sirloin steak (when not deleted by Marco) was always a good safe choice, being well cooked and of high quality.
The only majorly disappointing dish I had the whole time was some vegetarian dish (I have strict non-meat days through-out the week), consisted of 5 cherry tomatoes in two tasteless pieces of pastry, with “butter poached cucumber” (which is as bad as it sounds) and some other slices of raw pickled vegetables. Had I been a proper vegetarian, I could pre-order from an additional menu with significantly more choice. But as it was I found the daily vegetarian dishes, to be pretty damn good.
The food itself was always hot and a suitable sized portion, well presented. Buttered cucumber aside, I didn't have one other bad dish and some were very good, and not just good for P&O, or good for a ship, but genuinely good. The dining room experience was overall well executed and comparable with any other line, including more premium ones. The soups should also be specially noted for being universally very, very good.
We ate in the buffet a few times (or the “canteen “as many people seemed to refer to it). The first time we ate it was dire. The selection was pretty meh and the only vegetarian meal I could make was a cold and tasteless Thai green curry, rice and some cabbage. I ended up making myself cheese sandwiches.
The second evening experience (despite vowing never to go again) was better and we ended up with something reasonably hot and tasty. On the final day we managed some very good fish and chips from the buffet and there was always a counter with gluten free, diabetic and dairy free options (even vegan cheese).
At breakfast, the buffet is popular and the choices are predictable and change little. The main daily variations are whether it's tinned or baked tomatoes and the shape of the deep-fried potatoes. There was normally a mystery “smoked breakfast fish” and some of its other unlabelled chums next to the omelette station too. Overall it was fine but nothing to get excited about. They were good at clearing tables quickly, hiding the teaspoons and serving you tea and coffee at your seat. That is apart from outside where tables were cleared but begrudgingly wiped about 4 times a year.
They also had an annoying habit of failing to position the sign posts correctly to say which side was in operation, which I found intensely irritating, as a misdirection meant you had to walk out the buffet again and double back. This clearly cuts into the time I could have been enjoying the plentiful selection of bread...
The drinks service people, both on deck and in the bars, were certainly better than I experienced on Ventura a few years earlier, where they ranged from indifferent to downright rude. This time, however, service was fairly quick and professional. In fact the crew were more pleasant overall and would invariable greet you upon passing. I would find it difficult to complain about the service on the ship.
It's also worth noting about the grab and go food available on deck. At 12pm four fridges are stocked with sandwiches, salads and little desserts. All were very good, especially the ones labelled as New York cheesecake, that were basically berries and cream. The pool grill has also turned over to grab and go, so they don't make burgers to order, but have trays of stuff ready for you to pick up. The chips and hot dogs are fine, the chicken tenders a little rubbery, but the burger are pretty foul – they don't hold very well so you have stale tasting bread wrapping something that's brown, possibly beef related, that tastes like it's out of a tin.
The pizza on deck is also pretty good, and a major improvement over what I've had before. Not quite as good as Princess, but streets ahead of Cunard. Their only problem is the reluctant to have too many ready at once, so often ran out.
Of the cover charge restaurants, we ate in the Beach House twice (that ended up costing about £20 for 2). The first time was markedly better than the repeat performance, and while the dishes looked impressive, they were tricky to eat with a distinct lack of normal plates. Their buffalo wings were a big disappointment. We also had two “small plates” trios in the Glasshouse one lunch, which were reasonably priced and of a very high standard. We also made a return visit to the Glasshouse one evening as neither of us fancied the restaurant or buffet menu and it was a nice choice for a casual dinner. I also tried the quinoa burger, which came topped with Brie, which was the finest veggie burger I've eaten anywhere, ever.
Cabin and Accommodation
We booked what P&O term to be a superior deluxe balcony, which in Princess speak would be a mini suite and on Cunard would elevate us above steerage to the level of Princess Grill. On P&O you didn't get much in the way of fancy touches other than a bottle of cheap champagne on arrival, some chocolates and a flower that died after a few days.
What you did get was a fairly spacious room with a separate sitting area, with two TVs and a bath in the bathroom. The extra space was worth the money, which was about £50 more than a smaller balcony. Some people don't care for the overlooked, uncovered balcony, but I didn't find it an issue at all. You also got a good selection of up to date magazines, which was a nice touch and a plant that duly flowered after I had watered it.
It wasn't all good though. The cabin itself was dated, which isn't very good for a 6-year-old ship. It was the same basic design as launched with Grand Princess in the mid-1990s and the jazzy, but dirty, carpet and different coloured curtains couldn't disguise its origins with tacky brass lights, brown walls and a massive shelf designed to house two old heavy old fashioned TVs. The TVs that were installed were slightly more modern but fixed in a place where there were difficult to fully see from either the sofa or the bed and the angle of the remote control required precision. They also were interactive but it was slow, wheezy and didn't really do anything of substance other than allow you to view your account or order expensive on demand films.
The fridge is now a mini bar (bringing P&O into line with almost everyone else), but thankfully the enormous shelf that held the TVs proved useful for holding its contents so I could stock the fridge with my own coke, Vodka and wine. I did run out of Diet Coke so had the eye-watering expensive 330ml bottle of the same out of the mini bar, but it was flat and 6 weeks out of date. Probably not the best use of £2.65 I'd spent all holiday.
What was welcome however was the proper kettle, decent sized mugs and the ability to make your own tea and coffee. I need to make a special mention of the milk sachets here, as about half of them on the ship appear to have been built to protect their precious milk cargo from all comers, no matter what. After the bomb drops the only thing that'll survive intact are the cockroaches and flotilla of Dairystix used by P&O.
The cabin steward was friendly enough and did an ok job. But the bathroom tile grout was way past the need for a deep clean and the carpet doesn't appear to have been shampood since it was first woven.
The Ship and Entertainment
I need to make it clear, that I've always had an affinity for the Grand Class of ships, of which this was the last of the line. For a piece of overall naval architecture, they are a triumph that's stood the test of time. P&O’s twist on this was even better that the original with carefully designed public areas that have brought the ship nicely up to date.
The Glass House is worthy of mention as it finally resolved the issue with having loads of pedestrian traffic going through the middle of a restaurant. The design was such that when you were seated you couldn't see people walking through and when you were traipsing from the theatre to the restaurants it didn't feel like you were barging past people having a relaxing dinner.
The ship also boasted a SeaScreen that hung above one of the pools. Although it works on Princess, it felt out of place here. And the screen itself had seen better days as much of it seemed to disagree with what colour was what and there were areas of it that didn't work at all. It also had two volume settings: loud and deafening.
The main pools were heated when we left Southampton for a few days, then the heating appeared to be turned off rather prematurely. Although one early morning the aqua pool was literally hotter than a jacuzzi while the other was colder than the arctic. That said, they were always crystal clear and perfectly clean.
I’ve also long been a fan of the oasis pool as not that many people seem to find it. Although shallow, it's a nice adults only space outside of the sun, wind and screaming kids. It also boasts two hot tubs which were the only ones on the ship where pressing the button had any effect of increasing the volume of the bubbles.
The pool also features an endless swim-against-the-current device, which for some unfathomable reason, you can no longer turn on yourself. Instead you must ask at the spa reception, located inside and 20 feet down a carpeted hallway, so someone can come out and point a remote control at it to start it up.
On Britannia (and her sisters) this pool had been made bigger, but is now in plain sight so the prospect of having it all to yourself (as I often did) seem considerably diminished. Interesting on the final day on board, they clearly wanted to turn up the relaxation factor by playing soothing whale music. Sadly, it was delivered by the same person that sets the volume on the sea screen, at a level not seen since the main stage at Glastonbury.
The ship’s entertainment manager was led by someone that was probably a former Blue Coat from Butlins and had a voice that made you want to partake in a very personal version of the man overboard drill whenever you heard her. Whether that be a thinly disguised product sale, masquerading as a free seminar, or other low cost fun like your own coat hangers, she was an irritant from which I'd like to escape.
While they were organising a deck party or quiz, thanks to the design of the ship you could easily escape to either the fore or aft pool areas and escape the inane clappy hands banter. One fellow passenger described the “top centre of the ship” as “not being unlike Jeremy Kyle’s waiting room”. As I sit here typing this, by the Coral pool, I'm struggling to disagree.
As you do on ship, you get to know many fellow passengers as well as choose the ones to discreetly avoid. Although I prefer the more international clientele on Princess, I’ve always detected a very mild twinge of snobbery on Cunard. Most of the passengers on board were very down to earth and if you manage to avoid 15 mid-ships during the day the Butlins crowd were more easily bypassed. It’s a shame the entertainments manager choose to pitch herself to the minority.
You've probably guessed I'm not one for organised entertainment, but I did stick my head in the theatre one night to check it out. It appeared to be a load of people with Mohicans thumping washing-line poles dancing around stage and mining to a weak backing track. Set against a back drop from a school nativity play; the 5 minutes I stood there was probably enough to confirm why cruise ship theatres aren't the place for me. There were also a few signers and comedians on board, the sort of entertainment that's fine for an hour, but probably not something you'd ever make an effort to go and see if you were at home or paying for it. I’m sure people enjoyed it, but it’s not my cup of tea so I won’t comment further.
Although maintenance was predictably ongoing around the ship, some areas were looking like they needed to be taken out of service and refurbished properly. In particular, the teak decking was faded and worn everywhere and some of the outside public areas had a general look of in need of some TLC. The lifts looked to be quite battered inside and there were more blown bulbs around the ship than I'd seen before and when they were replaced, they replaced them with a different shade of white (I’m quite sure the person that designed the lighting scheme would be horrified).
The outside upper decks also featured two glass railing which were broken (I mean shattered, broken). I’m sure the laminate protect meant they weren’t unsafe, but they gave a poor impression. Much like the missing dome from one of the spot lights at the centre pool which had been covered with a bin bag and some parcel tape.
While I'm also ranting, the seating area on 15 aft was positioned under a leaking drain pipe from the deck above, which given the rust and the fact that the canvas in this area was either missing or browned coloured, it looked like it had been leaking for a considerable amount of time. I would best describe the outside areas as tired, tatty and neglected.
The internal public areas fared much better, with little sign of outstanding issues, apart from the lifts. I suspected that much of the carpeting had recently been replaced as some internal signage identified the stair cases as having different coloured carpet, when in fact they were all the same, new looking, blue colour.
Ports of Call
While I’m not going to dwell on the ports, it's worth nothing for entertainment purposes the shore shopping consultant. His posters around the ship proudly explained that “at least one family member must attend” his important presentation. Which I obviously didn't. I did catch it on the TV and clearly he'd missed his QVC calling. I’ve never seen someone so enthusiastic in directing people to certain shops, where you can literally get armfuls of diamonds for a very “attractive price”. Thankfully they also provided port maps along with the Horizon daily newspaper, that mapped out a walking route to ensure you didn't miss the bargains that Diamonds International were peddling (and possibly a handsome commission back to the ship?).
I digress. In St Marteen you dock in a little duty free shipping complex that's currently being extended where you can hop on a $7 dollar water taxi over to the beach. If you can find your way out the complex yourself, you can walk there in about 15 minutes and avail yourself of cheaply priced bars and a nice enough beach. As we arrived here late, we also left late. Although I'm not sure anyone made good use of the additional time in the dark when everything was busy closing.
In St Lucia there an identikit shopping complex, again complete with a less than obvious pedestrian exit. I've been there before and unless you take one of the 100s of taxis you are badgered to take, the walk into the local town is less than pretty and devoid of anything nice to do. This is a nice port to stay on the ship and it's a very agreeable place when your fellow guests aren't there. We also left here hours later than planned as guests on a ship organised tour were stranded on a broken-down boat trip, which left them adrift for several hours and included an exciting transfer in the pitch dark to another boat to bring them back.
I did also find in the cabin a range of port guides and maps, but these were hidden in a folder on the desk rack rather than given out in advance of each day's port call. You could very easily not find them, which would be shame as they do have some useful information inside.
I've been to Dominica three times now and never left the ship. The dock is an ugly container port and the island is desperately poor and under developed. It's rain forest centre is apparently very pretty, but I've never fancied the trip to see it.
This was also the location where another ship’s organised tour met a tragic end with a head-on collision of the mini bus they were travelling in, leaving one ship’s guest dead and several more seriously injured. Two more guests were also mugged ashore. Understandably the ship remained alongside for hours after our scheduled departure time and the captains message to the rest of the passengers was solemn and well chosen.
This clearly changed the mood aboard. We (probably like many other guests) had no idea whether the people we'd been laughing with the day before were the ones that weren't going to come home. It was a horrible situation for those involved and a difficult time for those on board. You could tell in the address delivered by Captain Captain the prospect of returning one less guest than joined the ship was an emotional drain. Even as I edit this a week later, I find myself wondering about the whole situation. I don't normally get bothered by the death of someone I don't know personally, but the fact that we, as passengers, all started out together on what was supposed to be the safety of the ship, weighs heavily on me even now. My heartfelt thoughts go to the victim’s family.
The following day in Grenada we did our only organised ships tour, which was a rain forest hike. We were off on a mini bus with several non-working seat belts, to what turned out to be a difficult hike down a steep, slippery and dangerous path (with many sections next to an unfenced sheer drop) that had been substantially degraded by the rainy season. Although the chance to swim in the waterfall was nice, this tour was exhausting (and it did say it was “high activity”) but I did feel the route taken felt like another tragedy waiting to happen.
End of the Cruise
It does bug be a little when you are just a few days into your cruise and you are already being tasked to do stuff in relation to your departure. Yes, I know we are just the temporary occupants of this fine vessel, but I don't want to be filling out forms about my flight home on day 3. Thankfully I'm not that organised so we held off retuning it for about a week. It was also irritating in the fact that you had to fill in an envelope with your own flight details, the very same details which P&O already told us, because they booked it. In fact, the only thing they really needed to know was how many bags we were checking in.
After we eventually returned our information, we revived a disembarkation pack containing our colour coded luggage labels, our boarding cards and the flight barcoded labels to go on the bags. Also included were the Barbados immigration forms, that demanded know an awful lot of information, considering the time we'd be spending ashore.
With this was a clear instruction of how to get immigration clearance on the second to last day on board. There were timed slots depending on when your flight home was leaving and as ours was one of the later ones, one of us needed to go down at 08:40. There was also a special slot for those on tour to visit at 07:20.
I was out on the promenade deck just before 7:00 that day for some fresh air, and the line stretched from Manhattan at the back of the ship, the theatre at the front of the ship. Either there were a lot of people due off on early tours, people either can't resist a good queue or they can't read instructions.
I waited until my allotted time and completed the whole process in about 3 minutes.
When the day finally came to leave the ship, I was left with a number of carefully calculated toiletries that wouldn't get confiscated from my hand baggage (this was a lesson learned from last time when we ended up throwing away perfectly good deodorant, hair products and toothpaste that we needed for the last evening and final morning). I got up early for a swim when the pools opened at about 06:30 and before the sun got too strong. Alas the room steward hadn't replaced the pool towels so I had the cart the huge fluffy white one out the bathroom up on deck with me.
My shorts were dry in no time and we departed the cabin at about 08:00 with our bags for the day and flight home. You could drop your hand luggage in the theatre to save carting it around. An unfortunately timed rain shower and the mass movement of people towards the buffet at 08:00 meant getting a lift anywhere was almost impossible as was the prospect of a table anywhere near the “canteen”. Just as during the main Transatlantic crossing, when the weather was bad the ship felt horribly crowed with lots of displaced people looking to set up camp for the next few hours.
We just bummed around the ship and we're called to disembark at exactly 14:30. There were repeated announcements not to gather on the stairs that seemed to fall on deaf ears (again) so we waited an extra 10 minutes and walked straight off onto a waiting coach. The bus was held up for 10 minutes or so just short of the airport so it didn't clog up the traffic, so when we arrived we got straight through a dedicated security line and into the departure area.
The airport always seems like a bit of a zoo, having very few monitors to tell you where to go, but constant announcements calling flights. We did find what gate we'd be leaving from and loitered in the general area. Once our boarding was called for “premium seats only” all 300 passengers seemingly had an over inflated sense of their own importance and again formed one massive scrum to get out the building. Again, we hung back and walked straight out.
We were a little miffed that we were flying with Thomas Cook rather than on one of the Dreamliner services, especially as we had to walk past two that were parked up on the way to our plane.
As it happened the 2 4 2 configuration of the plane was nicer than the Dreamliner and the refitted interior felt modern with a decent amount of room. After we took off the first 20 minutes was spent trying to flog premium entertainment for an extra £5, followed by a slow and expensive bar service, which meant they finally handed out the inflight meal about an hour and a half in. Bang went my plan to pop a sleeping pill and get some rest. The meal was probably the best economy class meal I'd had.
Once that was cleared away it was then time to flog the duty frees, meaning that they didn't dim the cabin lights until about 4 hours into a 7 and half hour flight. Although there was an ok level of space it was pretty uncomfortable and I got maybe an hour’s rest. They dished out breakfast about 40 minutes before arrival, but “ran out of time” to serve any tea or coffee. In fact, I'm glad I spent the £1.80 on a bottle of water as that and a very small drink with dinner was the only liquid offered the whole time. Once landed Greggs happily served me a large and expensive cuppa.
Verdict
If you are reading this you're either interested in going with P&O, or doing a Caribbean cruise. So what did I think of the whole experience?
I'm finding it difficult to say. If there weren't any problems, it'd probably get a solid 8/10. If the only problems were the ship looking shabby, then 6/10.
However the major mechanical breakdown and the tragedy on tour influence my score of this cruise.
Having an extra day in the cold and the rain, followed by a faster than required crossing across the Atlantic, did restrict the things I like to do on my holiday. And my own experience on tour and that of other guests gave the impression that either no one cared about the safety of the guests ashore or the maintenance of the ship. Either cost have been cut to the lowest possible price, or people aren’t doing their job properly (I suspect it’s a bit of both)
I can't honestly say the time was terrible but when you add up the overall experience of this cruise, the poor memories outweigh the good ones. For that reason, I struggle to go above 3/10 as an overall satisfaction rating. It was a disappointment and an expensive one at that.