Cruising Holidays

I've always thought I’d rather eat my own liver with a cheap Chianti than go on a cruise. They sound boring; I’d rather not waste time hanging around a pool on the top deck and just get to my destination. Then I can hang around a pool in the resort.

There are different holidays for different people and for different reasons. There’s the post grief/ trauma “holiday” or more aptly, break, so that you get away from the scene of misery and have a rejuvenating respite from it all while you recharge yourself and your mental balance.

There’s the ‘like-minded’ holiday; where you share some sort of interest such as mountain bike riding (I’m only guessing- that just sounds like the crappiest kind of torture “holiday” to me- just why?) or train spotting where you go together with people who are happy to toddle along to whatever it is that you’re all doing together. I imagine it’s not too stressful if you’re prepared to keep a bit of distance with these relative strangers, but enjoy the shared thing while it lasts and then take your leave at the end of the holiday with a promise to keep in touch til the next comicon, mountain-bike race, train washing ceremony or whatever…

I regularly have this kind of holiday with Leslie and Marnie. We share a love of alcohol. We fondly shop for it together expending vast amounts of energy choosing the correct bottle- anything white really. And then with an intensity bordering on obsession, we drink the wine. I know, this discerning past time is not for everyone and the faint hearted need not apply. The only problem I can see (or in fact not see) is that there is usually no recollection of these holidays or breaks. There’s a great story about how Leslie’s pet name of “Goldfish” came about on one of these weekend breaks but I can’t remember it.

Then there’s the horror “family holiday”; children (mistake), extended family (big mistake), parents (HUGE mistake)… You go somewhere all together and stay all together and do everything all together so that by the end of the first day you’re wondering who thought this was a good idea and why in God’s holy name did you agree to it? (Your brother is always getting you drunk before putting these dumb ideas to you and you’re always 3 sheets to the wind when you agree it’s a fabulous idea and why has no one ever thought of it before?) Your mother’s constant moaning, the childrens’ constant bickering and your hubbie’s constant monologue proving he’s an expert at everything begins to unloosen cogs that should remain attached if you are to avoid alcoholism. No one can agree on a tourist destination/ activity and proffering ideas to split up and so please everyone sets off your mother again in a bout of “it’s supposed to be a family holiday and so you’re supposed to do things together…” So to gratify the matriarch, everyone conforms and spend a miserable day trying to please she who cannot be pleased.

Then there’s the “couple’s holiday”; a retreat to rejuvenate the marriage and enliven the marriage bed. In order to please the hubby who’s a bike enthusiast, I arranged a weekend away in the mountains and we were to get there on his motor bike. He was thrilled; I was dubious. When I crawled off the bike, my inner thighs were bleeding and my muscles were set in a permanent rictus leaving me walking like John Wayne after a long day on Spirit. And that was the first pit stop; there were 3 hours to go yet. By the time I got there he thought I was thrilled by the ride and didn’t want to get off. My body was set in a rigor mortis that would require broken bones to unset and my face was arranged in a permanent grimace he took for delight. Let me just say, “Venus, Mars” and be done with that little section.

And finally there’s the “friends holiday”; a much more relaxed and pleasing prospect. At least they understand if you want to laze around all day and read a book and don’t feel ‘ignored’, they don’t pressure you for sex when you’d rather… you know, well… swallow an eyeball and don’t expect you to do what they want to do but welcome your company if you do.

I have a group of school friends who every couple of years go away together to ensure we miss the usual scenario where you, tear-ridden and cloaked in black, bemoan the fact that you hadn’t seen each other for years and had been meaning to call, but you know… now it’s too late… who’d have thought...a heart attack/ lung cancer/ fall from the statue overlooking Rio de Janeiro…?

So we decided to put together a joint bank account and put aside a small amount each week which gradually builds to allow us a bit of a treat every little while. It started with trips to the beach and graduated to Fiji and recently, a cruise.

I must admit when Gail presented us with an impressive spreadsheet listing destinations, dates and costs to compare, we were all duly stunned to find that the cruise was the cheapest option. I was the first to scrunch up my nose but then looked at all of them. Our holidays tend to be ‘relaxed’ affairs, if you ignore Gail and her exceptional energy that leaves us all gasping in her wake. But to be fair, when the chips are down they all rally and when it was required that I be carried back from the arduous tour around the ‘genuine Fijian village’ that took 3 hours, all the girls pitched in and carted me to the bus and back to our bures.

So on careful reflection I realised that Gail would be kept busy with all the onboard activities and would expend enough energy to leave her tired and not inclined to bother with trying to drag us out on some hair brained scheme to see some fucking tourist museum full of rocks and mannequins in wigs and grass skirts enacting a scene from who gives a shit war with a Portuguese explorer and we’d be left in peace to relax by the pool with a good book and a mojito. We could then all meet up in the evenings for dinner and wouldn’t feel like killing Gail even once; it was a win-win situation.

So it was agreed that we would try our hand at a cruise. We naturally had the big count down and built our excitement so that by the time we reached the terminal we were that embarrassing group of middle aged woman screeching like teenagers at a Beiber concert. Our cabins were compact but adequate although to sleep in close proximity to snorers (yes, all of us now snore- post 50 inevitability apparently) was daunting despite the copious supply of earplugs.

I was thrilled to find there were several places on board where one could find peaceful and quiet surrounds to allow one to just ‘be’.  There was of course the party deck where one could find all the stunned couples desperately sitting together, taking in the splendour of everyone else who must be having a good time amid the deafening noise of the loud music and inane chatter of the onboard Entertainment Officer. There were, to be fair, a deal of interesting activities of which you could partake; yoga, stretching, knitting, craft making , art auctions, lectures on real estate, cooking demonstrations… or none if you wished to sit quietly with Ramon or Lucy who faithfully fetched you mojitos and then silently slunk back to their post by the bar so you could quietly ‘be’ …drunk by dinner.

Gail was thankfully kept busy from morning til night and was occasionally accompanied by one or other of us. Mary kept occupied with the knitting ladies. The only downside was that the pressure grew daily as she struggled to complete the square of knitting required to remain in the good graces of the lady’s group. She ended up outsourcing it to Margie so if any of you from the knitting group are reading this; yes, Mary is a fraud and is not the fantastic knitter you all thought her to be.

As a smoker, she kept us regularly updated on the goings on in the ship, as this group are surprisingly the hub of gossip and as pariahs, happy to chat to anyone who will spare them a few moments as they chug back the smoke.

The ideal thing about the cruise was that you spent two days sailing to the islands so we had a lovely couple of days unwinding and then five wonderful days snorkelling which is what we had agreed we all wanted to do. We visited five amazing tropical islands with some of the most beautiful reefs in the world; each day a different island- Mystery Island, Isle of Pines, Mare, Vanuatu and Noumea.

There was the option of joining a tour or making your own way. We opted to make our own way and simply grabbed a cabbie who toured us around for the day as requested. Of course taking this option meant you should know where you want to go and had to have done a little research otherwise if you leave it to the taxi driver, you risk visits to his third cousin’s pharmacy, grocery & gift shop and his aunty’s basket weaving factory where you could enjoy 10% off all goods because you came with Johnny.

The cruise was a wonderful opportunity for friends to catch up, sights to be seen, relaxation to be had and legends to be made- no not on the dance floor. I rarely made it past dinner, no doubt due to the pre dinner drinks (perhaps starting at noon was a mistake) but Marg and Cath were popular among the disco divas. But what made us renowned was the life saving skills of Marg and the Noodle Girls.

Out snorkelling one day, Marg heard a man calling out to her in some distress. He had gone out further than intended and was exhausted. Marg, a swimming instructor was just the person to turn to. He refused her offer to tow him in (misguided male ego I suppose) and instead opted for her quiet, assuring accompaniment.

Gail and I had, with great foresight, insisted on carting noodles along on our snorkelling adventure. Last time I was in Fiji had been a traumatic experience where I had nearly drowned had it not been for the timely intervention of a Swede with a noodle, however, that’s a story for another time. Neither of us are strong swimmers so we knew if we were to relax and enjoy the snorkelling, we needed the added assurance of a noodle to keep us buoyed. The unfortunate disadvantage of noodles however is that they are somewhat cumbersome and Gail being of reduced stature, was often unaware of the effects of her noodle when settling herself in boats in particular. There was a spectacular case of the whacking of a French woman across the face who although knocked unconscious momentarily, and thrown to the floor with the force, took the encounter with supreme grace. That's the French for you.

So it was with great relief that Margie was able to announce to the swimmer in distress that, “You’re okay. Here come the Noodle Girls; they’ll take you in.” And so it came to pass that with great pride two women who have on several occasions almost drowned, and couldn’t swim the length of the pool without ingesting several litres of chlorinated water, were able on this occasion to take an arm each and thrust forward with confidence on our trusty noodles and save a life.

I burbled incoherently at the bemused man in order to put him at ease and  alleviate his hurt ego and at one point mentioned mermaids which seemed to confuse him further. Realising that we are now middle aged and not nubile young things, I realised my mistake- I had terrorised him with images of water hags rather than beautiful sirens and was risking losing him to the waves with the shock, so expediently turned my babble to tales of how I had nearly drowned as I couldn’t swim a lick. His eyes widened and he slipped under again. I grabbed him back up and assured him that the Noodle Girls had never lost their man- a slight exaggeration as this was the maiden venture- but we safely made it to shore and released our charge back onto the security of terra firma.

Surprisingly, the best thing about the whole experience- if you’re middle aged I expect, as young things don’t have a clue and will make do with hamburgers as the height of culinary delight- was the food. There was of course a buffet serving the three mains a day and it did a pretty good job considering the chefs prepare 11,000 meals a day; yes you heard right. With some 730 crew and upwards of 1200 passengers (I really have no idea) it was a major task and one completed with utter aplomb. Food was available 24 hours a day.

There were a couple of restaurants where you paid a little extra for the meals or the buffet or the free restaurant which was a sit-down affair with waiters in constant attendance as though you were the Queen herself or at least Cate Blanchett. The food, was simply superb. I’m pretty fussy and resent going to a restaurant if they serve something I am perfectly capable of cooking at home myself. Just don’t. Every night our entire group were totally delighted with both the menu and with the meals sampled. For me, it made the trip totally worth it. Thank you Brent Bonnette and P & O.