Cruising

I wonder what that word means to you. It does have a number of definitions, one at least not very salubrious. But being a well brought up, and very refined ‘girl’ its meaning for me is to sail on a large ship with hundreds of other people.

I had always said that I would never go on a cruise. I thought of it as being full of blue rinsed Americans with more money than sense and not a clue about what a real holiday is all about.
And the entertainment! Girls in silly frocks with false smiles and young men who can’t sing.
Food of the ‘international’ calibre prepared by failed television chefs, Yuk!!

I enjoy holidays in small hotels with restaurants serving local food just a small stroll away. These to take place preferably in Italy. I love the country, its food, its people, and its language, need I say more?

Then I saw the Royal Clipper.

We were on holiday in Italy, Sicily this time. Staying in the small hotel with the obligatory trattoria close by. We got up early one morning and saw this wonderful five masted ship sail by. We were both immediately smitten.

When we got home we sent for the brochures. They were stored away and taken out from time to time and we’d say ‘shall we, shan’t we?’

Eventually we said, ‘What’s money for, let’s do it.’
In March we booked a seven-day trip to the Caribbean and then had to wait until early December till we could begin our cruise.

During that waiting time the idea of the cruise would pop into my head and I’d either think I’d made a great mistake and that we should cancel it or I’d look forward to this ‘great adventure.’
I had, of course, to buy some new clothes for this trip of a lifetime but in my usual fashion left it till the last minute. The shops no longer stocked clothes for tropical climes and so I was forced to buy things off the net, another cause for worry. Would they fit and would they be suitable?

December 9^th arrived and we were packed and ready. Cases full of clothes I thought would suit every occasion, with a ‘nice frock’ included. Who knew, we might be invited to eat at the captain’s table! We had been assured that it was a very informal trip but I have to be prepared for every eventuality, and even packed a couple of sweaters, much to my husband’s disgust.

An overnight stay in Barbados, just in case there were any delays and we missed the sailing. We booked a taxi from the airport with a very chatty driver who took his hands completely off the steering wheel as he pointed out things of interest along the way. He assured us that in order to drive in Barbados you needed to be a PhD (pothole dodger). The journey was made even more exciting by these giant pot holes in the road.
We were greeted at our hotel with a rum punch.
We were in the Caribbean, and it was raining!

The hotel had its own beach of white sand with the turquoise waters of the Caribbean lapping the shore. But this was just the taster.
 

We were collected from our hotel and taken to the dock. Excitement was mounting as we drove along the dock road, rounded a large building and there she was. (I know that it is no longer politically correct to call ships ‘she’ but old habits die hard!)

My researches on the web had not prepared me for how beautiful she really was, and how big. Our bags were taken from us and we climbed the steps up to the deck. Lots of people had already arrived and were chatting and tucking into the buffet which had been prepared for us. I was too excited to eat. All I wanted was to explore.

And do you know, there was not a blue rinse in sight.