She sat on the stairs between Deck 11 and 12, as I climbed by. I looked at her to make sure there was nothing wrong. She looked back and appeared to be fine. “I’m just waiting for my husband,” she said. I guess my gaze must have lasted a moment too long and thus required explanation. “He went back to our cabin, and I’m just taking a break.”

I nodded and planned to continue up the staircase. There were three more flights to go. But she continued . . . “We never take the elevator once we’re on the ship.” I stopped. Turned. Spoke. “Neither do we,” I said. “It’s how we keep our weight in check.” She smiled. Like minds had found each other.

“I’ll tell you something else,” I ventured. “In the luggage department we only take what we can carry onboard ourselves. Because of this, we’ve become somewhat akin to luggage snobs.” I didn’t expect it, but there it was. “Same here,” she said.

That was about the extent of our conversation. I wished her a great cruise and she wished me the same. But as I continued to climb toward my destination, I wondered if there were others “out there” who handled cruising the way Earl and I did. If so, please email me at anne@annebrandt.com. There’s a support group in the making here.

I came on this cruise with six new books downloaded onto my Kindle®, a crochet project to finish, some plans to review the recent novel I wrote, and my computer. Oh and three bathing suits plus half a ream of sheet music in case I found a piano to practice on. I came with great intentions of doing all those things I love to do at home, but often don’t make time for.

It isn’t as if there’s nothing to do on a cruise ship; quite the opposite is true. But over the years that we’ve cruised, Earl and I have listened to presentations about shopping in St. Thomas, played Bingo, line danced, taken wine tasting seminars, played trivia, and attended art auctions. I figured we might take a pass on some of these things, and I wanted to be prepared.

This is our second day on the cruise and also our second at sea. It’s provided the perfect opportunity to start on the projects I brought along. But so far the only thing I’ve done is swim. And sleep. And eat. And sleep. And attend the Captain’s cocktail party last night.
And sleep. At this rate, I shouldn’t have to sleep for a month when we get home.

Usually Earl and I book a mini-suite with a balcony when we cruise. It’s the equivalent of a very tiny New York apartment, but it has some amenities a regular cabin does not. For this cruise, however, we decided to save the money and take a regular cabin with a balcony. It wasn’t a bad decision.

The Ruby Princess is a relatively new ship, and I believe the designers have used the space on it in noticeably better ways. Of course, you wouldn’t know this if you’d never sailed on Princess before, but we have. Our current cabin is larger than the first one we had before we got hooked on mini-suites. There’s room to cross in front of each other on the way to the balcony, and the balcony itself is considerably larger. It accommodates four chairs and a table, whereas the old-style had room for only two chairs and a table. Additionally, even though we know our king size bed is really two twins put together, there is no bump or seam in the middle. Whoever mastered this is a genius.

Other areas of the ship seem better utilized too. The specialty restaurants, those that are hoity-toity-ed up at night are now used for specialty activities during the day. The steak house is a place for board games and cards. The English Pub offers traditional pub food, complimentary, at lunch. The tour desk is better located and its staff has increased.

The Ruby was commissioned in 2008. It has a maximum passenger capacity of 3150 with a maximum crew capacity of 1200. I understand this is its twenty-something voyage, so the kinks are probably all worked out. (We once went on a ship that had only been sailing a couple months; it was quite a different story.) So, all in all, we’re looking forward to a most enjoyable voyage.

Earl and I have this saying about taking a cruise. We call it being out of exile. From the moment we arrive at the cruise port we are welcomed and welcomed again. The person who gives us our passes to use onboard ship is glad we’ve returned. Our cabin steward – even though we’ve never had him or her before – is ecstatic. Even the captain has left a couple notes on our bed, personally inviting us to special activities for returning guests.

But most of all, returning from exile means returning to a place where your any and every want is catered to. All you have to do is enjoy. You want room service at two in the morning? Pick up your cabin phone. You want a mojito by the pool? A server suddenly appears. You can’t find anything on the copious menu you like? The chef will find it for you. You need your teeth whitened while you’re on vacation? That too is available.

I’m not sure how we started using this expression; maybe it’s because the cruising experience is markedly different from any other kind of vacation we take. It takes less work for one thing. It’s very relaxing for another. On this cruise, for instance, I plan to read five books while I work on my tan.

Granted, it isn’t like an “in-country” experience where you actually begin to get a sense of the history and culture and the people of a place. But, when you live a good portion of the year in a state where the temperature is colder than what the food in your refrigerator experiences, it’s not a bad way to go.

I’m hiking in Italy the middle of April and decided the hiking boots I’ve had for five years deserve retirement. They’re frayed on the inside, and they’re heavy. They also leak at times.

So today Earl and I went shopping for new boots, which I want to break in before my son and I take to the Amalfi Coast in two months. I’ll need to wear them enough before then so that they don’t feel new as we hike four to eight miles a day. I’ll need great socks too.

And I found both at a local sports store. It took a while, since my feet are small, but the clerk finally located something I could wear in the youth department. He also trekked all over the store to find the right socks too.

You might think socks are socks, but that’s not true. Really good insulated socks are invaluable. They cushion your arch and your ankles; they keep your boots from chafing. They keep your feet warm.

Within an hour, Earl and I left the store with my new purchases. I had both a pair of new socks and the new boots on my feet to start the break-in process, with the footwear I entered the store resting in a box. The clerk understood.