This morning Earl stared out our stateroom slider window and said, “This ocean is big.”
This is about as profound as saying, “Rain is wet.” And I was quick to remind him that a repositioning tour with many sea days was his idea, not mine. Of course, we’ve run into more than the usual number of sea days, thanks to threatening weather which probably elicited a “This hurricane is scary” response from a passenger or two.
So how does one cope when water is the only landscape – er, seascape – for days on end?
First, there is the library, which is amazingly popular. Its space hardly fills the size of a modest bedroom in the States, and it’s open only six hours a day. But I’m willing to bet attendance rivals the Wheelhouse Bar next door. So far, Earl is on Book Four.
Next there are the stairs. So that we don’t disembark at the end of the cruise looking as if we ate everything in sight (Some do), we forego the elevators and walk everywhere. If we want to visit the Trough, it’s five flights up. If we want to have a cappuccino, it’s four floors down.
We occasionally attend one of the myriad activities on board, designed to keep passengers entertained and docile. This crowd, many of whom are from Europe, is quite well-mannered; Docile is its middle name. But this can be a challenge when you take three thousand Americans to the Caribbean and offer bargains on buckets of beer.
We’ve also cruised enough so that the entertainment has to be truly different to capture our interest. So far not much has. Except for the beautiful tanzanite ring I’m fancying in one of the on-board shops. It really is “big.”
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