Re: Cruises
This is a piece I wrote a few years ago after taking my first ever (and free!) cruise. Subsequent cruises varied in quality, but this one was so exciting.
Cruising for a Schmoozing
OK, I’m now officially a Saganaut, apparently. Just back from my very first ever cruise to Norway’s fjords where I’ve eaten my way round some of the most boggling scenery on board a floating Holiday Inn on steroids. Sorry, that was grossly unfair on the Saga Sapphire; it’s a lovely ship. Not that I’m exactly an expert on cruise liners but you’d be hard pressed to find fault with the amenities.
With almost an equal proportion of staff to passengers the attention to our every need was impressive, from gentle guiding to chairs for the frailer passengers to the whipping away of dirty glasses and cutlery with a speed that Paul Daniels would have found hard to match. The Filipino staff were relentlessly smiley, polite and solicitous and talk about smart! You could watch a movie against the glare of their tunics – actually, the open air cinema screen was unwatchable due to the not-quite-dark skies, so an enormous waiter’s tunic would have come in handy. Apart from the occasional subtle rocking on board it was difficult to remember that we had a mile of ocean beneath us – and to be honest I tried to forget – and for a day or two I just concentrated on orienteering myself. Which deck was the beach and pool? How many ice cream cornets could I actually eat in one sitting? Forward or aft, and did it matter? Could I fit in yoga, Scrabble and fish and chips before my lunch, and was it wise? I seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time checking and re-checking the deck plan next to each lift prior to eating. It’s not a task to be taken lightly when there are three superb restaurants on offer, and ending up on deck 11 when your salmon is broiling gently on deck 8 is plain foolish. The choice of food on offer is astounding, and even in the late evening when sensible Saganauts are sleeping off its effects there are “light bites” to be had along with your Ovaltine; dainty amuse-bouches lined up next to chocolate mousse, cheesy creations on delicious bread, fresh fruit arrangements, salamis, ham whatnots, you name it. Just the thing two short hours after a three course feast.
On our second night we were treated to a meal at the captain’s table where I ended up sitting right next to the man himself. I was forced to arm wrestle the favoured place off an 80 year old who wasn’t quite speedy enough but I had no shame. Captain Philip Rentell is a laconic and suave chap with a nice line in wit and an easy charm. I struggled through four courses of very haute cuisine indeed and discovered that our host in fact hails from the Midlands originally. As a Brummie I felt it incumbent upon myself to launch into true Brummie-speak which he returned in spades. A good sport, too.
Wednesday, and I looked out of our salt scarred window onto towering mountains with white hats on, and dozens of small waterfalls trickling down to the fjord. All down the mountain were pastel coloured houses, too pretty for words. This was Bergen, the neatest, quietest and cleanest town in the known universe. Even the park flowers were lined up like soldiers. Perhaps they were waiting for the king and queen who were due to turn up later for their annual music festival. We wanted to wait, but I had blisters the size of a small principality and my other half had a dodgy hip, so we reluctantly returned to the ship for a coffee that didn’t cost £4.
Norway had had the same abysmal weather we’d endured prior to our week, so everyone had bought jumpers and thick jackets with them, and those unflattering plaited woolly hats and thick socks. Of course nobody had sufficient summer wear; everyone told everyone else about it in that way we have of thinking we are the only ones so ill prepared. Many people also found it necessary to discuss the lift buttons in some detail when squashed inside, all checking anxiously with their comrades and pretending not to look at themselves in the mirrored walls.
“Are you going to the restaurant?”
“Is it 9 or 10?”
“Have you pressed 11? Can you press it again just to make sure?”
“Where’s reception again? I’ve forgotten.”
“Why does the door open to the side sometimes?” (OK, this confused me the first time. Allright, I admit it. This one was me talking.)
Once we upped anchor (see how I’ve picked up the jargon) and moved onto Odd we availed ourselves of the ferrying service of the tenders to take us ashore. On the harbour were a group of young teenagers all in national dress, performing what I presumed was a traditional Norwegian folk dance for us. There was an accordionist accompanying them and it was lovely. Odd had a selection of stores selling what appeared to be cheap t-shirts, trousers and underwear, and as we were getting sick of recycling our few lightweight clothes we started looking. The prices were very scary indeed however, so my other half bought a peaked cap and a pair of underpants. He looked a real treat sunbathing on the upper decks that afternoon …
We took a coach trip to the high plateau to see one of many waterfalls. The snow up here was at least 4 foot high piled up on the sides of the road although it was hot, and we were told how the roads have to be closed in the winter sometimes and people in the remoter areas need to store provisions. No Tesco round every corner here, only thick woods, the occasional summer rental holiday home half submerged in banks of snow, and reindeer. At least, we were assured there were reindeer, but that they were "very shy” and we weren’t to cause them stress. As we never spotted one, we never got the chance to shout to them that down in the market they had some cosy looking reindeer boots. Actually the market was full of furs which looked rather shocking, but I guess polyester just doesn’t cut it in Norway in January. We did see many beautifully knitted jumpers and jackets at £200 plus. We bought ourselves a cup of self-serve coffee instead.
Our on board choice of entertainment was a twice daily quiz which was fun as we were often joined by couples trying to make up a team. This gave us in theory a good chance of winning and being covered in glory. In practice we came second – once.
There were singers, comedians and dancing girls with enormous feathered hats and sparkly swimsuits a-la Las Vegas, but our particular choice of evening wind down was a chap on an organ and a woman with a violin and the most relaxing, hypnotic voice ever who murmured her way through the Doris Day classic Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps, some Abba, even her version of an Elvis number. It was all very civilised, washed down with a decadent cocktail, a cherry and a tiny umbrella.
Out on deck the sun was slowly disappearing in an orange glow right into the sea, the wind had stopped blowing your head off like it did when we were on the move, and the shuffleboard people had stopped being competitive for the night. It was easy to forget we only had a couple more days before Dover hove into view again.
You get very used to the close personal attention of the staff aboard the Sapphire. Barely have you placed your cup or cutlery down and it’s whipped away with a smile and the offer of more food or drink. The chambermaids arrange your nightwear in a fetching little fan shape on the beds and leave a chocolate on the pillow, your chair is pulled out for you to sit down in the restaurants and the many disabled and very elderly passengers were treated with respect and care. It’s all very addictive and reassuring and easy to forget that life back home isn’t quite so lovely for many old people.
Some passengers had small gripes about trips that hadn’t taken place due to the level of water in the fjords and the difficulty of actually disembarking. One very cross gentleman who tried – at first assertively, then plaintively and finally sulkily – to obtain a table at the Asian restaurant, informed all present that he wasn’t happy. The MC at the last night’s farewell gathering told us of some of the more hilarious complaints which she assured us were on the office wall. A lady moaned that there weren’t sufficient captains on board, and it would stop all the queuing to meet him if there were a few more on board. Another lady was questioning the photos we had of our meeting with him. She was informed where the photos were on display, and told she could order as many copies as she liked. “How will I know which is mine?” she apparently asked. Good question, and one that needed to be asked!
We met some really nice people, had a lot of laughs (not necessarily at the comedian’s night) and enjoyed the most delicious and beautifully presented food. The lovely weather helped enormously of course, but even in the wet or cold weather I don’t think the Filipinos would stop smiling.
Well done Saga, and I’m so grateful for the chance to go a-cruising.