Exhaustion, an invitation and Kochi, Japan

After another full on day of travel and tourism, investigating more of South Korea, we arrived back to our room completely whacked. The day had been brilliant, but an early start and a long day meant that we could not be bothered to get showered and dressed for dinner in one of the many restaurants on board. Instead, we had a shower, put on dressing gowns and ordered room service: comfort food in the form of pasta. And a bottle of wine. And very good it was too.

Along with dinner arrived a beautifully printed invitation to join the Captain and senior officers for cocktails the next evening. Ah! What a privilege we thought. An intimate evening in the company of sophisticated professional mariners, with casual chitchat about this and that while sipping on a cool Margarita or two. Then we realised that a) this event was being held in the Venetian Lounge - a cabaret style theatre holding 350 - and, b) it looked extremely likely that they were going to sell their Venetian Society club membership at us. We may be wrong but all will be revealed.

And so to bed early and hoping for a long sleep. Mostly that was achieved, although with interruptions from my coughing as I seem to have picked up a bit of a cold. Drama, drama. It’s not all about you, Nick. Nonetheless, I shall wear a face mask around the public spaces, to protect the innocent.

Meanwhile, today is a sea day and tonight is formal night and so glad rags have to be prepped and, in honour of the occasion, I am having a haircut. Normal cost at home around £18. Here? Who knows? Well, it turned out to be $49 or about £36.58 in real money. And the guy did a very nice job, thank you. (Not as good as Vicky, though!)

Gabrielle’s second ball gown - you’ve already seen the first one (both remnants of charity ball days) - needs a quick pressing so the exciting activity of the morning is to visit the laundry and get that sorted. After working out that ironing with power switched off was not conducive to crease removal, we finally got a creditable result.

Our first sight of Japan is the island of Shimokoshiki-jima - the largest of the Koshikishima Islands. It shimmers in the distance like a jewel and we get a feeling that the main event is about to start. However, we still have a way to travel to our first port of Kochi. And before that, it’s time for the Venetian Society bash which turns out to be an intimate gathering of about 350 people, all patting themselves on the back for having spent so much money with Silversea. In fact it’s a competition!

We join a long snaking queue to the entrance to the lounge in order to press the flesh with the Captain. As efficient a method of spreading germs as any I reckon and having washed my hands I enter into the melee with Gabrielle. She is looking stunning of course in a fabulous white gown that attracts many comments.

Once we have made small talk we go into the lounge where the band is playing jazz numbers. Can’t win them all. And then there is a brief cabaret by the company of singers and dancers which livens up the event. The Captain emerges to congratulate people who have racked up the most days on Silversea. First, there is the 100 day plus awards. Then a special mention to those with 718 days! 884 days. And then 866 days. Capped with 867. Then. Gasp. 1075 days. But even that was still to be topped. 1142 days. Holy monkeys! How much has that cost those people? We feel positive frauds sitting there with two sets of fourteen nights. But we looked better than anyone else in the room so, frankly, nerrrr.

Good news re our return flights home. No more transit through Dubai; instead we now have a direct flight from Tokyo to London with All Nippon Airways. However, there are complications. Where are the chauffeurs that whisked us from home to airport and airport to destination? This has not been replicated in the new arrangements. Much confusion, ending with an agreement that we bill Silversea for our transfers.

We were pulled and pushed into port in Kochi by a very well augured tug called Sakura. Maybe we shall see some? Meanwhile, my delightful cold has matured into its spluttering, dribbling phase and I am wearing a mask around the public areas. I seem to have an in-built ability to minimise my enjoyment of a holiday by always getting some sort of virus. Must be my age.

Japanese authorities require that all passengers on the ship, whether or not they are going ashore, go ashore, to register, have a photo taken and fingerprints. The queue snakes back through the lower bar area on Deck 3 to the gangway. We collect our passports and head off the ship and into the terminal, noting that this is our first time on Japanese soil - seems much like anywhere else actually - and we go into a hall where we do the zigzag to get to the waiting officers. It’s all very orderly and, when it’s our turn, I disrobe my face - spectacles and face mask - do the do with the machine, which seems to take a while and then we go and hand in our customs declaration form where we say that we are not bringing in any of the list of prohibited things.

And that was that. Very simple and efficient.

In the afternoon we set off by bus on a short tour to visit a famous beach and a botanical garden. Hiro our over excited guide is hard to understand  and jabbers on repetitively. As far as we could see, most people tuned off from the commentary, despite it being pumped direct into our ears by a device called a QuietVox. Our experience of these is that they work intermittently and depend on a level of skill in the operator.

Our first stop is Katsurahama Beach - a lively strand with an ornamental shrine perched in a very feng shui manner. As you’d expect.  Also here is a statue to Sakomoto Ryomo. Samurai and Kendo exponent, swordsmanship using a bamboo stick. Our guide is a seventh Dan in this martial art. Impressive!

We head up a vertiginous road, driving up Mt Godi, winding our bus along the twisting, rough road. At the top is the Makino Botanical Garden. It’s not really the best time of year to visit despite the fact that they boast many types of sakura, very little is blossoming. It’s 8 hectares of garden, hosting 3000 species but, despite our interest in gardens, the place fails to set us alight. We seek out a cafe and experiment with some Japanese tea that proved very nice. Afterwards we have our first experience of a Japanese loo, replete with heated seat, automatic flush and ambient music to get you in the mood: Tunes to have a good poo to.

We wander outside and there is a bus stop in full sun so we settle down. I muse that, knowing Japanese technology, the seats will detect potential passengers and summon a bus. Sure enough a few minutes later one arrives and the driver is less than pleased that we have no intention of getting on.

And so, we board our coach and the 15 minutes drive back to the ship is a welcome relief after multiple 1.5 to 2 hours transfers. Time to relax now. Oh no! She’s going to play the recorder. Seriously. Amazing Grace. Lots more shouting and Japanese handy phrases and it’s over. We retire to the cafe for a scone and tea.

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