Luxury afloat
Penny Junor
Boats and I have history. My introduction to them was in 1959, aged nine, when my father decided it was time to branch out from north Cornwall for our summer holidays. He chose Italy; but the rain in Rock had nothing on the monsoon conditions in the little seaside village he picked for our first taste of abroad. We drove there and sailed home, car and all, from Genoa on the Braemar Castle. My excitement ended halfway through a bowl of pea soup at the captain’s table on the first night. For the next few days, as the ship pitched and rolled through the Bay of Biscay, I lay on my bunk and stared at a bucket.
So when an invitation arrived from Cunard some years ago to lecture on the Queen Elizabeth 2, I did not dance a little jig. My husband, however, did and as he had been invited too, I accepted. I had, after all, between bouts of sickness, fallen profoundly in love on the Braemar Castle (he was 12) and memories came flooding back. Whatever else, ocean-going liners are indisputably romantic — and surely none more so than the most famous ship in the world.
Now I can’t pretend that cruising and the image I have of myself go hand in hand comfortably (I don’t see myself as a bowls player yet either) — and yes, there was a lot of grey hair about and even the odd Zimmer. But I have to confess that that week on the high seas entirely won me over, so much so that I have just returned from another QE2 cruise — from Southampton to Rio de Janeiro via Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands. (It was particularly poignant to be there on the QE2, which was requisitioned as a troop-carrier during the Falklands war in 1982.) Cruising is not everyone’s cup of tea, of course, although its popularity is growing fast — at a rate of 8 per cent per year since 1980. In 2004, according to the International Council of Cruise Lines, 10.8 million people went on a cruise. And the cruise lines are obviously confident that the trend will continue. Royal Caribbean recently announced plans to build the largest passenger ship in the world at a cost of £616 million. It will take 5,400 passengers and be half as big again as the Queen Mary 2, launched in 2004, which presently holds the title. The activities on board have yet to be announced, but I imagine the only thing not on offer will be pony trekking. But all the negatives I feared turned out to be unfounded — the horror of being stuck on a ship with dull and boring people from whom there would be no escape, trapped at a table with strangers for every meal, and frustrated by nothing to do and nowhere to go. You can mix or not, as you choose, sit at a table with others, or sit by yourself. And as for being bored, there is an activity scheduled for every moment from 7.30 until the last bar closes in the early hours, after all the shows and dancing are over. You can become super-fit, play deck games, take up ballroom dancing or bridge, have spa treatments, gamble in the casino, do yoga, Pilates, or fitball, listen to lectures, watch films, improve your computer skills. The list is endless. You can even learn to thread beads. Or you can simply sit and read or walk (or jog, damn you) round the deck — five circuits to a mile in an effort to fit into your trousers. The food is simply sublime. Full breakfast, fourcourse lunch, ‘White Glove’ afternoon tea of sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam and cakes, five-course dinner, and for those who are a bit peckish at the end of the evening, there’s a Midnight Buffet. There is no obligation, of course, to eat more than a lettuce leaf at each meal, but it seems churlish when the chef has gone to so much trouble.
And if none of that appeals, you can waste hours standing on the deck staring at the horizon, marvelling at the sunsets, watching for whales and dolphins or, as on our last trip, the booby birds that suddenly appeared, miles off the coast of Brazil. There is no mobile signal out at sea, no newspapers other than the news digest that is slid under your cabin door every morning, and the world and the worries of daily life feel a million miles away.
The QE2 will look like a sailing dinghy beside the new Royal Caribbean ship when she comes on stream in late 2009 — she is already dwarfed by the QM2 and, despite extensive refits, she is beginning to look her 36 years. For some people that is a problem, but I spoke to dozens of passengers who have sailed in other ships, even the QM2, and come hurrying back to the ship they know and love. Being small makes her feel more intimate; you get to know the crew and many of them are there year after year (one bedroom steward has been there for 25 years) and they welcome you back.
The price you pay for your cabin dictates which dining-room you are allocated, but although cooked by different chefs, the menu is identical in each and includes a vegetarian dish at every meal. All that is different is that in the Queen’s Grill — where passengers paying top whack for the best sleeping accommodation eat — there is an extensive à la carte menu. If you wanted caviar every night, you could have it. Food is included in the package and there is no danger of going hungry. But beware: drinks are not, and don’t go thinking that because you’re at sea they must be cheap. After two weeks at sea you can get a nasty surprise.
But whatever price you pay for your room, you are pampered; you get service and style that belong to a different era. You dress for dinner — on sea nights in full evening dress, on nights when you have been in port, less formally. And from the moment you check in, your luggage is taken care of and you are looked after by impeccably trained, friendly staff for whom nothing, even difficult customers, seems to be too much trouble.
How different the 12-hour night flight home from São Paulo with British Airways. The flight was overbooked, so we couldn’t use our World Traveller Plus reservations and were put in economy. The blankets and headsets in our seats had been used (and no clean ones were to be found) and the steward claimed there was no record of a vegetarian meal having been ordered for me, though it was done months before. After no sleep we touched down at Heathrow and sat on the tarmac for over an hour waiting for a parking space, and after the usual five-mile hike to the baggage hall we had to wait a further 45 minutes for our bags to come through. My husband’s new suitcase had been damaged and was held together with sticky tape. Do you wonder I enthuse about cruising?
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