Jamaica, in

© Simon Poulter 2017

“Jamaica? No, she came of her own accord”. Sorry, had to get that out of the way. Yes, we have arrived in the aforementioned island, home to reggae, Bob Marley, Usain Bolt, implausible bobsleigh teams and a colonial history that, being European and, particularly, English, I have nothing to be proud of.

I say I’m "in" Jamaica (or is it on?), but if the truth be told I’ve ventured less than a quarter of a mile into the country (and half of that was walking off the boat and through a sort-of border post) and only as far as the Falmouth cruise terminal. This is, essentially, a prison exercise yard for cruise passengers, branded 'Red Stripe Beach', with rival ships from the Royal Caribbean and Disney lines offloading their human cargos to spend a day wandering around assorted local 'craft' and jewellery shops (i.e. tat), buying rum, drinking Red Stripe and chowing down on Jamaican pies (basically, Cornish pasties, and the fact it is in a town named after Cornwall's Falmouth is not lost, either).

© Simon Poulter 2017

For those feeling particularly adventurous, seven-hour, heavily-escorted bus excursions to Bob Marley's house or Montego Bay - presumably to also buy Marley-themed comedy Rasta wig combos, rum and packets of rum cake - are also on offer at the terminal. If I'd been feeling brave I would have hired a taxi to Goldeneye, Ian Fleming's estate (which he first occupied following a stint in British Naval Intelligence on the island and from which James Bond was inspired). But having spent much of my last holiday scampering after Bond filming locations in Sardinia, I chose a more sedate day in Jamaica, a decision helped by it being exceedingly warm and humid. So, no to Dr. No. As it was, when I ventured outside the cruise terminal's gates for no more than ten yards I was accosted by a gentlemen offering me "a smoke". I safely assumed it wasn’t going to be a Marlboro Light.

Today's brief land invasion did, however, serve a purpose that the cruise lines have noticed themselves, especially amongst younger passengers, that the cruise stopover agenda is a sort of tapas tasting plate of destinations. Our Haitian and Jamaican visits could hardly be described as immersive, new land experiences, but the warm waters of Haiti and the almost cartoon-like whirl around a tiny triangle of Jamaica provided some flavour of these Caribbean islands, if only a taste as expansive as being handed a sample of cheese in a supermarket. But as someone who has mostly holidayed in either the US or the Mediterranean, I’m suddenly awake to the idea of Barbados, St. Lucia, Antigua or any other of the recently storm-beaten paradise isles that live in this parish. All those idyllic beaches and swimming in bath-temperature seas, cocktail-infused nights and laid-back vibes. These are all, of course, horrendous cliches straight from the brochure, but having seen a little of it, it's not all that out of reach.

© Simon Poulter

Tomorrow we reach Cozumel in Mexico, another purpose-built resort owned by the Royal Caribbean line, and much like Falmouth, a well controlled destination. There will be on offer bus tours to Mayan ruins, ATV adventures and opportunities (for a price) to swim with dolphins. Nothing at all that would bring one in contact with Mexico's worsening darker side. In fact, an enormous smorgasbord of activities which, should you be so inclined and have the funds at your disposal, can enable you to spend an entire day "in" Mexico. But, like visiting a zoo, there’s never any danger of being allowed on the other side of the reinforced glass. I must admit, though, as much as planned activities aren’t exactly my cup of tea, you can’t say you don't have the opportunity to see these countries in some part during the stopover. For some, they enable a sip of somewhere new. For others, it’s an excuse to spend the day dozing on the sun deck of this giant floating hotel, absorbing another paperback and occasionally trotting up to the bar for a cold one. Each to their own.

© Simon Poulter 2017