[18th November 2025]

Some weeks before we left Edinburgh, we had to change our plans for the latter half of the trip, swapping Iguazu in Argentina for Mendoza in the wine region.  This was because Iguazu is a Yellow Fever risk area and the expert advice to us was not to get the vaccine, due to our advanced age!

The same factor spilled into our potential visits to the coastal cities of Salvador and Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, though the statistical risks of catching Yellow Fever are low.  In Salvador, we originally booked the only type of tour available from the cruise ship to the places we’d like to see, a walking tour of the Old Town.  As the time grew closer, we had to admit how much we both dislike guided walking tours. The MSC walking tour also ends up at the Modelo Market, which, visible from the ship, looks like a derelict concrete car park.

The only other option was to do what we usually do – head off on our own.  The more we found out about Salvador, the more that didn’t seem like a very attractive option, as individual visitors can apparently expect lots of hassle, scammers, etc. at the major attractions, and we couldn’t envisage having a very enjoyable day.  So we stayed on the ship.

A lovely swim in an otherwise empty pool followed.  The indoor pool roof was retracted and we could bask in the Southern Hemisphere sunshine, and have our choice of jacuzzis – usually hogged by people who sit in them for hours on end.

We have lunch in the almost deserted buffet, which we normally avoid as it is very reminiscent of school dinners.  I get talking to one of the waiters who is Brazilian – he’s looking forward to getting onshore in Rio to see his mum.

“So did you not get off the boat?” he enquires.

“No – we’re going to save ourselves for Rio,” I reply.

“Good decision,” he responds. “This place was good 10 years ago, but it isn’t nice now.  You’ll love Rio.”

Interesting to hear that from a native Brazilian, so hopefully we made the right choice.

Salvador: Pelourinho – what we didn’t see!

When we decided we wouldn’t be disembarking at Salvador, I thought I’d make Blog Four an amalgam of a few shots of the city from the port, and some observations about cruise life on board the MSC Fantasia. 

Whenever we are asked whether we would recommend cruising to friends and family, I always respond that, despite the fact that this is our third and longest cruise with MSC to date, I’d still hesitate to do so, as everyone likes and dislikes different things.

We enjoy certain aspects of cruising a lot.  These include having a cabin with a balcony on which we can while away countless hours watching for dolphins and whales – semi-mythical creatures who probably line up and dance the Can-Can as soon as we close the curtains; easing into the groove of having coffee in our favourite coffee bar and pre-dinner drinks in our favourite Fantasia Bar;  having My Choice dining so we can eat whenever we want to and always get a table for two; having a drinks package that means we can imbibe what we want when we want, without a whacking service charge on every beverage; do our own thing (normally) when we go ashore and design our days to maximise our enjoyment.

The thought of adding my own old, fat, ugly, body to the plethora of similar, packed together like sardines on the main pool deck, with deafening crap music assaulting the ears, and apparently mindless entertainment flowing constantly, does not appeal.

Once, as we go on deck to view our arrival in port, we accidentally pass through the karaoke bar, in the middle of the day.  I normally regard karaoke as being on par with having my nipples sanded.  On board the ship, random people get up on a huge stage and sing to a sparse audience of apparently sober, entirely bored-looking fellow passengers, slumped in their chairs like they’ve been drugged, kidnapped, and deposited in this small alternative universe.  Why?

We attend a single show – a flamenco extravaganza in the huge auditorium.  The dancers are actually very good, but their skills are set against a backdrop of spectacular video effects and a strange sort-of-Spanish music.  Presumably a cruise ship residence pays pretty well.

The audience tends to clap on the wrong beat, and the male dancer seems to have to take on the role of visual comedian.  At one point, one of the younger female passengers, who is inordinately proud of her huge breasts, actually leans back in her front row seat and shakes them enthusiastically in the direction of the male dancer.  Try that in a show in Edinburgh, or Spain, and you’ll probably get thrown out.  Though he might want to meet up afterwards, I suppose.

We also attend two lectures in the same auditorium, in preparation for our visits to Rio de Janeiro and Montevideo.  The speaker/guide is Monica, a very nice Argentinian lady of indeterminate age.  Many of her slides originate from the 1970s, some look older still.  Because we are sitting in the front row, as Fiona always insists on doing whatever the occasion, Monica engages us in conversation before she starts her presentation.  She tells us she has a German father, who we calculate must have come over to Argentina around the end of WW2, and an Italian mother.  When she hears that we are Scottish, she announces this fact to the audience, explaining that Scottish people are Scots first, human beings second, and British third.  She is delightfully non-pc and pretends to care if she offends English or Uruguayan folk, or anyone else. 

She drops the mic, then gets the cable tied up with her handbag.  She complains that the a/c interferes with her sinuses.  As we enter the theatre for her Montevideo talk, she is speaking German.  She realises and switches to English, but then flits back and forth randomly throughout the next hour.  She is indeed a character.

Most of our fellow passengers are Spanish speaking – generally either Spanish or Argentinian, with a smattering of Germans and Japanese, and very few Brits indeed.  Also, very few children, however the adults tend to be loud enough.

As anywhere, there are rude people who push past you in the lift or the buffet restaurant, but there are also many very courteous, mainly Spanish people who greet everyone in the lift as they board, and strike up loud conversations with anyone willing to listen.  Our rudimentary Spanish tends not to be able to keep up with their speed of delivery, but the atmosphere created is jovial and friendly.

On our first night on board, a chap at a nearby table is sporting a “Islas Malvinas 1982” t-shirt, in memory of the Falklands conflict. Happily, there are no British people to take exception.  On Gala Night, people are meant to dress up a bit, and a number of Spanish-looking men wear suits and ties whilst their female partners wear evening dresses.  We make a small effort, which is rewarded by some professional photos so bad that we immediately decline to buy them. On White Night, when everyone is meant to wear white, we miss the memo.  Never mind.

There is also an Italian night.  We notice that the people at the next table, for some reason, have an elaborate napkin sculpture consisting of a heart and roses on their table.  The cheeky Balinese waiters notice that we notice, so they promptly appear with a bread roll with two holes for eyes, a napkin over its head, and a prominent breadstick front and centre, “For the Scottish!”  Who told them? 

These guys are endlessly polite, friendly and good humoured – one brings his wife over to be introduced to us, as they work together in the restaurant every day.  They are very well trained, and they make every mealtime as enjoyable as possible.

On the minus side, at one point, a piece of one of the funnels blows away in high winds.  We are assured that we don’t need that bit.  An ambulance appears on the dockside to convey an unfortunate passenger to hospital in Salvador.  The Fantasia’s departure from Salvador is delayed by a medical emergency, whether involving the same person or someone else we do not know.  Always disconcerting, but the ship is the size of a small town.

We cross the Equator for the first time on a ship, with only the barest announcement on board, and no sign of the elaborate ceremonies previously enacted on cruise ships.  Fine by us, but you’d have thought they might have mentioned the milestone a little more enthusiastically!

My dozen favourite images from our day in Salvadore and on the MSC Fantasia are included in the gallery below. Click on a thumbnail to see a bigger image. If you’re using a mobile phone, turn your screen sideways to see the bigger image to best effect.

Image Gallery