From Dover to Calais

Every now and then I make plans to join a cruise, but nothing comes out of these plans as I am afraid of seasickness, 'mal de mer', as the French call it. This kind of fear prevents many people from taking a cruise vacation; it's no secret that seasickness can turn a pleasant trip into a miserable, embarrassing experience.

I 've been on boats and ferries for short trips, never on a big cruise ship. I'm told a big ship has huge stabilisers and so less motion. The larger the ship the less it will rock, and if you position yourself in a midcabin, that is, in the center ,where the least motion is felt, and prior to the voyage you take some precautions , then the chances of not getting seasick are very good.

I'll never ever forget the ferry voyage across the british channel or as the french call it La Manche ( the sleeve), from Dover port in south-east England to Calais port on the northern coast of France. The channel is " an arm of the Atlantic Ocean that separates England from northern France and joins the North Sea to the Atlantic" (Wikipedia) . The most cheap and convenient way to cross the channel was by ferry, departures occurring every thirty (30) minutes.

On the day of the voyage the sea was rough, but visibility was good and the service to Calais was running normally. On the ferry, people around me were talking, laughing, eating, having fun , and only I had terrible nausea, and loss of color in my face. Even the color of my eyes, normally green, was fade and lifeless. An english lady wanted to help and gave me something to smell, but that made things worse and I began to vomit and feel cold. At this point, I was willing to accept medical intervention. I was administered an injection which brought about quick relief.

The trip lasted for about an hour, but for me it seemed like eternity. Looking back, I think that a bottle of soda water would have done a good job from the start in helping me get rid of the nauseous feelings, but for some unknown reason I forgot to ask for one.

They say the cause of seasickness lies in some disturbance in the inner ear. There are lots of theories as to what could prevent it, but I knew almost nothing about that at the time. Anyway, the most mentioned tips to deal with seasickness are: accupressure wrist bands, ginger capsules, scopolamine patches behind the ear, taking deep breaths, being on the deck in the fresh air facing forwards , staring in the distance and not focusing on the moving ship etc...

By the way, WHY did the wave rush up on to the beach? IT was feeling seasick.

A night at Vila Real de San Antonio

Ferry crossing the river between VSRA and Ayamonte

Back in the 80's , I was persuaded by a friend of mine , a native speaker of portuguese and spanish, to join him in a mini tour to Lisbon , Madrid, and their immediate surroundings, after which he was to fly to Argentina to visit his ailing mother and me to return home to Israel.

Two days after our arrival in Lisbon, he got an unexpectedly urgent message concerning his mother's condition and was asked to take the plane to Buenos Aires without any delay. I decided, sadly, to go on with the tour without him, and that required some change of itinerary. On the whole it turned out to be a smooth, enjoyable tour except for one very traumatic event.

Here it is:
After several more days in Portugal, I decided to go to Spain for a week , and then return to Portugal for a direct flight back home.
I don't remember exactly why and how that happened, but the fact was I took the wrong train from Lisbon and got off at the wrong frontier point for Spain (it was a border town in the southerneast tip of Portugal), and at a very wrong time- in the late evening hours.

The place looked deserted, the tiny office at the railway station closed, no living soul around .The only sound heard was that of barking dogs coming from what I imagined was a nearby fishermen village on the outskirts of the border town of Vila Real de San Antonio. I headed towards the village to find myself a place for the night. I approached some houses that had the sign 'Pencao' (pension, guest house) , rang the bell, knocked on the door. Nothing. No one would open the door or window to me. They just shouted something like ' it's full', 'no vacant bed' etc..

I was completely in shock. They could have directed me to another pension or helped me in some other way. Afer all , it was dark outside and me just a young female carrying a suitcase. But no. No opening of doors, no attempt to help.

I kept on going and looking for some sign of a hotel or pension ,when suddently I came upon a guy who had the looks and clothes of a respectable middle aged gentleman . I tried to explain to him my situation in the few broken portuguese words that I possessed, and asked for information on accommodation for the night. He was very polite and ...invited me to his house, but before I could even answer with a 'yes' or 'no' to his invitation, his hands were all over me . I panicked and started running back to the railway station. Once there, I found some bench and had myself seated on it . I made up my mind to wait here for the morning. It was cold , I felt tired and sleepy, but I made an effort to stay awake all night, as I had to keep an eye on myself and the suitcase.

I had plenty of time to think about what had just happened to me, and I realized that this was a border town , and as such it had different rules and codes of behavior. There was probably a lot of smuggling and illegal activity going on here on both sides of the river, and people were afraid to open their doors. As for the middle aged "gentleman" - unfortunately, this sort of people trying to take advantage of a person in distress, can be found everywhere.

In the morning , I took my suitcase , glad to leave the area. and started to walk in the direction of the Guadania river. It took me about 15-20 minutes to reach the ferry terminal. Upon arrival at the terminal,, I bought a ticket, showed my passport to the border authority man ,and didn't even once look back to see the place in daylight.

on a bench in Ayamonte (pale, after a sleepless night)