Confessions of a cruise convert
Shipboard vacations are far from a slow trip to the mortuary, writes Keith Austin.
Cruising isn’t for everyone. Certainly I once fell victim to the prejudice that cruising was for perma-tanned retirees looking for a warm place to die.
And, to be honest, my first cruise did little to dispel that notion. The clientele, one step away from being mummified, shuffled everywhere except to the buffet, where they broke oceangoing speed records.
Cruises also seemed to be the place where cocktail bar pianists didn’t so much tickle the ivories as lull them to sleep with vanilla versions of Stevie Wonder’s I Just
Called to Say I Love You dirge – a feat which puzzles me to this day; how do you make the infinitely awful yet more awful?
The thing is, I liked it. The staff were all frighteningly polite and helpful, but not in a Stepford Wives way. And while the passengers might have been crass and noisy and ancient (Oh, no that’s ME now) and up to their eyeballs in food most of the time at least they were out there, on the high seas, seeing the world.
And what more can you ask? They could have decided to retire to a vegetable patch. Instead, they’re out, travelling the world, meeting new people and spending the kids’ inheritance.
Since then I’ve cruised on giant ships, big ships, mediumsized ships and small ships, on oceans and rivers and seas – and have come to love them all. What better way to see the world than from what is essentially a moving hotel? And, as a travel writer, let me tell you, there’s nothing – nothing – like unpacking just once.
Of course, the ships themselves have changed enormously. Today, there are ships where you can surf on artificial waves, go rock climbing, ice skate, take to dodgem cars, watch a circus act, skydive and ‘‘fly’’ alongside the ship in a glass pod on the end of an extended mechanical arm.
They’re also no longer all flop-and-drop and dressing for dinner – though that can be had if that’s what floats your boat. The food is generally excellent and the shore excursions are increasingly sophisticated and aimed at the more active and adventurous passenger.
Frankly, you haven’t lived if you haven’t swum in a lake full of non-stinging jellyfish, canoed down the Danube or gazed in awe at a giant Angry Bird head souvenir made entirely of cloves.
And while retirees still make up the vast majority of passengers, the age demographic is on the way down. There are kids’ clubs, teen nights, you name it. No longer are afternoon tea and waltz lessons the highlights of the day. This means some cruises can get raucous but, given the size of the ships, there’s always a corner to hide in (the library’s normally pretty empty).
Personally, I’ll opt for a small expedition cruise or a river cruise any day. The scenery is closer, your fellow passengers are more knowable and getting on and off to see the villages and towns along the way is easier and faster. It’s an all-round more intimate experience.
But I also enjoy the advantages of the ocean-going giants. If you’re not a sociable person – and we all have our periods of misanthropy – then relative anonymity isn’t hard to find on a ship with dozens of floors, gazillions of bars, restaurants, casinos and shops.
If worse comes to worst you can always kick back on your balcony with a glass of wine. On those occasions I’ve seen the spouts of far-off whales, watched flying fish and adored pods of dolphins playing in the bow wave.
I even enjoy the full days at sea and treat them as a kind of enforced relaxation; there’s nowhere to go, nothing you have to do or see, no excursions to catch, no time to be back on board. You just have to beat the seniors to the buffet.
Be aware though – their knees might be worn out but those elbows are sharp.