Suva and Dravuni Island, Fiji: Tentative Vicissitudes

 

vicissitudes - noun - unexpected changes or variations in circumstances that occur over time. (Cambridge English Dictionary)

    I view Suva and Dravuni Island, Fiji, as vicissitudes, as they, "variations in circumstances" (my own), both managed to defy my expectations albeit over a short period of time.

    With 180 inches of rain per year, Suva, Fiji is the largest, sun-and-rain-soaked city in the South Seas. (Say that five times fast.) Heavily populated Suva resembles any city in Indonesia (take your pick), which makes sense as the original inhabitants traveled from Southeast Asia. The current natives are friendly as proven by the sound of "Bula!" ("Hello!") that reverberates through the air and then lands on billboards. Not surprisingly, Fiji was a British colony until 1970. Signs are in English, roadways reflect British names, people drive on the left, but there is also the American Burger King and McDonalds. Clearly, the enjoyment of the hamburger is a uniting, global phenomenon. 

    Our tour guide on the hour-long drive to the beach, Nancy (anglicized from Nanana) pointed out myriad sights. Prisons (three within an hour's drive) are situated on grassy hillsides along the roadside as well as numerous churches, although all religions are represented on Fiji. I suppose that the number of penitentiaries prove that despite religion, the people are adverse to the Golden Rule. But crime is always the sum of the addends: overpopulation plus poverty. According to Nancy, the city folks are more Westernized; whereas, the villagers still adhere to certain customs, particularly for the women, who are not allowed to wear hats, shorts, or miniskirts unless they are on the beach. All three are a sign of disrespect. On one end of the island, the dead are mourned for 100 days. During this time, the men cannot shave or cut their hair, and they must wear black. (The women probably just wear black since they don't cut their hair or shave anyway.) 

    With its unevenly peaked mountain ranges and tropical vegetation, the Fiji countryside is naturally beautiful. Wild orchids peep out from roadside brush like tropical birds, a distraction, a feeble, but appreciated attempt to mask the shacks of poverty. Tapioca that seems to be another ubiquitous diversion next to the road is a big export. The plant looks a lot like marijuana but is never mistaken for it.

    The beach we went to was and is not extraordinary, not what you might expect. I befriended a female gynecologist from Baltimore right off the bus who became my close companion for ninety minutes. About 300 yards from where we were camped out on beach chairs under makeshift pergolas, there was a water baptism taking place. Which was a filmic sight to see as most of the witnesses were also in the water, some dressed in black, holding black umbrellas silhouetting them in the shadows that the obfuscating sun cast. At first I thought I was watching a funeral. My temporary friend and I spent a few minutes in the ocean, the temperature of which (80-85 degrees) was reminiscent of bath water that might be attractive to some, but it just served as proof of global warming to me, something that is very real indeed. 

    Before long, we found ourselves on the bus heading back into town. When we reached the center, a memorable sight was an open-air florist shop, featuring red, white, and pink floral arrangements on multiple tables in celebration of Valentine's Day. Which is not a holiday that I thought was celebrated outside of the United States. "Love is everywhere." The full day ended with a cleansing, cooling rain and the sight of fellow cruise passengers drinking Fiji Water from the same bottles you'd find at 7-11. (Of course, the factory is in Fiji.) The day was enlightening, but Suva and surroundings in reality was not what I had hoped it would be.

    In direct contrast, Dravuni Island transcended my forever high expectations. Less than a mile from one end to the another, Dravuni would be the perfect location for the TV series "Survivor" albeit the residents (all 200 of them) would probably complain. (Apparently,"Survivor" was filmed in the Fiji Islands but not on Dravuni.) For those of you (and me) who abhor technology and the pace at which it is traveling mainly for the sake of greed, Dravuni is Paradise on Earth. It is the Fijian counterpart of an Amish farm, but perhaps even more rudimentary as there is pretty much nothing: no indoor plumbing, electricity, land vehicles of any kind (I did not even see a bicycle) or anything like smart phones, laptops, phones, etc. Of course, there are no cell towers. Can you imagine? (Sublime!)

    Coming off of the tender boat, I felt like one of Captain Bligh's crew from Mutiny on the Bounty. Time has not touched Dravuni or its people. The only attributes of contemporary life that I saw were bass boats with outboard motors, shabby furniture, and suitcases that a family boarding a bass boat headed to an unknown port were carrying. The residents live in open-air, concrete huts with tin roofs, much like their fellow Fijians in the suburbs of Suva. All had nothing but "bula" to say to us. Of course, we countered with "bula" right back, simple, but direct and well intended. As it was Sunday, no one was peddling wares except for coconut juice right from a freshly downed coconut. Christian hymns emanating from an unseen church could be heard in the near distance. Trying to avoid the searing sun at all costs, my Aussie friend John and I sat just feet from the clear, turquoise water under palms. Our resting place? An old wicker couch that someone had deposited there for the comfort of the guests off of cruise ships. I attempted to snorkel, but the fish were sparse, probably due to the warmth of the ocean, another sign that things are not right with the natural world. 

    When it came time to leave the Garden of Eden behind, I seriously did not want to go. I kept repeating to myself, What if I just stayed here? It was so tempting. After all of the Coral Princess passengers were present and accounted for, the captain fired up the engines, and the ship began to move. Fijian men in two bass boats on either side of the ship escorted it through a narrow channel deep enough to accommodate the width and girth of it. Once the vessel was safely beyond the shallow shoals, they turned their boats around, waving goodbye enthusiastically to me and anyone else who was standing on the balconies, hesitant to wake up from the dream. I watched the boats return and did not go back to my cabin until the island was a few inches long on the offing, signaling the end of a perfect day. 

    If you are interested in visiting Fiji in the future, I would recommend spending time on the primitive out islands if you can possibly manage to do so. I think you'll agree that we all need to take a few steps back in time on occasion.

#travel, #cruise, #Fiji, #Suva, #Dravuni Island, #blog, #blogger

Simple, Sublime Samoa

 

sublime - adj. - of great excellence or beauty (Oxford Languages)

    Similar to the U.S. Virgin Islands in terms of its topography, simple, sublime Samoa is filled with pleasant surprises. Initially, I had no expectations of the island, once affiliated with Great Britain, Germany, and the United States. The German influence has long disappeared, yet the British and American remain as all Samoans speak English, appreciate rugby, drive on the left side of the road, and eat in McDonalds. It became the first Pacific nation to gain independence in 1962, and the pride of autonomy shows. 

    After disembarking, my Russian and German friend and I ignored the numerous taxis corralling fellow passengers in the harbor, braved the heat (about 88), and walked about 1.6 miles into Apia, Samoa's main city. On the way to a recommended marketplace, we noticed many houses of worship and wound up spending about ten minutes appreciating the wood carvings and stained glass in the Immaculate Conception Cathedral, a Catholic masterpiece signifying the natives' acceptance of Christianity as their primary religion. From there, we followed a paper map (yup) that led us to the main open-air market Fulgalei Fresh Produce in the center of town. The stalls were so narrow and heat of the day too suffocating that we left early in search of a taxi to take us to Piula freshwater cave pool in Upolu, about twenty miles east. 

    Fortunately, we found Eete, a twice married young man with five children, in his Toyota right in front of the visitors' center. When I sat in the "suicide seat," on the left side as opposed to right, I saw that Eete had a mini version of the New Testament on the dashboard, which made me feel more at ease considering my vulnerable position in the front of the vehicle. While on the narrow, serpentine, macadam route, Eete serenaded us with Christian reggae music on his car radio. The quiet hamlets we passed featured brightly painted, concrete homes and gardens (Some plants were in recycled tires painted orange). The inhabitants seemed to understand the adage, "Cleanliness is next to godliness" since their pride in ownership was obvious despite their not owning much. We also saw that the beaches that outline the coast vary from chocolate to white and the water from brunette to aqua and turquoise. 

    Once we arrived at the pool, we mingled with the native peoples who seemed nonplussed that they had to share their waters with foreigners. Personally, I enjoyed snorkeling both in the cave pool and ocean, meeting many friendly, colorful tropical fish at an intimate distance, including a clown fish that looked like a stunt double for Nemo. On the journey back to the ship, we noticed many school children in well-pressed uniforms, and college students dressed in all black. I'm sorry to say but we did not have enough time to visit the Robert Louis Stevenson Museum, the island home of Stevenson, author of Treasure Island, that Samoa no doubt inspired. He had built and occupied it in a town just outside of Apia called Vailima, a far cry from his birthplace of Edinburgh (that home I did see back in 2017). 

    After our journey was over, we did not have any problems using American dollars to pay Eete as an American dollar is worth $2.68 in Samoan currency. With the approximately $172.00 in Samoan money that we paid Eete, he probably took his wives and children out to a sumptuous dinner, a treat well deserved. 

    If you are ever in the vicinity of New Zealand, take a flight to simple, subline Samoa. You won't regret it. 

#Samoa, #cruises, #travel, #blog, #blogger

  

Cruising and College: "Curious Bedfellows"?

 

"curious bedfellows" - noun - term borrowed from William Shakespeare's The Tempest that refers to unlikely, unexpected groups forced into an alliance due to shared interests. (plainenglish.com)

Superficially, it may seem like cruising (traveling via a cruise ship) does not have anything to do with the collegiate experience. Yet in fact, the "curious bedfellows," cruising and college, have more similarities than differences, forcing them into a metaphorical alliance of sorts. 

To begin, the cost of both per semester (about four months) is actually about the same, roughly 50K if you have a single stateroom (a cruise's version of a dorm room). On a ship and in college, the amount includes a number of classes offered on a daily basis when the ship is at sea. However, only on a cruise is reading optional. In addition, there are no exams or grades on a cruise. But in college, there are many. On a cruise, the meals and beverages are sumptuous and delicious and unlimited; whereas at an actual college, they are not as tasty and are limited. As far as I remember, no alcohol is legitimately offered in the college cafeteria, not so on a cruise. The price of a cruise and college also includes all entertainments: theater, Las Vegas-style shows (usually not found at institutions of higher learning), and sports (although a cruise ship may only offer board games, dancing, pickle ball, mini golf, and shuffleboard–my personal fav). As we know, college includes more in the way of athletics, particularly team sports, although I must say that the enthusiasm of the spectators in both realms is about the same. The ebullience of screaming and yelling competing groups is ageless.

Upon closer examination, the classes offered on a typical cruise ship amount to hour-long seminars mainly on the ports of call themselves. Occasionally, there will be a class on marine biology (similar to that offered in college, complete with Power Point slides), but most of the cruise selections are geared toward learning a skill, such as basket weaving–what collegiate football players used to take to up their G.P.A.s and stay in school. Additionally, on ships, there is always trivia and various quiz bowls to exercise the mind. It is my guess that such pastimes can also be found at many colleges. 

When it comes to socialization, the two have much more in common. On semester-long cruises, the dorm mates–usually wives and husbands (generally roommates on dry land)–decorate their doors with eye-catching phrases held in place via magnets. Which is very much like what one would see at any university or college. I even saw one door on the ship offering passers-by a go at Scrabble. After a few weeks of being on the ship (or on any college campus), a passenger (like any student) can join clubs (choir, poker, Bridge, etc.) and may find his or her group, a.k.a. clique, with which to spend time (hang out). Cliques can meet in the staterooms (dorm rooms in college) that are about the same size as an actual college dorm rooms except they are much nicer, or they can congregate at a number of bars throughout the ship that offer entertainment (such as live bands and dancing) just as college-town pubs do. Walking around either the ship or a campus, the extrovert may find oneself running into people he/she knows after two weeks, making one feel at home or marginally popular.

Of course there are obvious differences. One is the age range. The average passenger on this 114-day cruise is about seventy; whereas, the average age of a college student is nineteen. A cruise includes WAY better class trips than what one would find at any college or at any school, for that matter. But college has the benefit of being on drivable dry land. Also, the campus on a ship is much smaller to accommodate fewer "students" albeit there are colleges that do have 2,000 undergraduates, yet they are spread across numerous acres. And of course, one does not graduate from cruising like one does from college although the option to continue both states of being is available for additional dollars.

I am sure I can come up with more comparable attributes between the two "curious bedfellows," but I'd rather trot over to the onboard "cafe" to pick up a couple of slices of pizza before I have to go to a club meeting (choir) and afterwards back to my room to proofread this "paper" and turn it in (publish it) for all to read. If I see the glass as half empty, I can say that this particular cruise is a step toward assisted living. If I see the glass as being half full, it is merely a step back in time, toward college. In order to feel much younger than I am, I will choose the latter. 

#college, #cruises, #comparison, #travel, #blog, #blogger

A Tripdych in French Polynesia: Raiatea, Moorea, and Tahiti

 

triptych - noun - a work of art composed of three panels (Oxford Dictionary)

Raiatea, Moorea, and Tahiti are Mother Nature's triptych of ineffable beauty. If you are more of a film fan than art aficionado, then you'd probably appreciate this metaphor: Scenes of splendor on these three islands could compose a trailer of coming attractions for the afterlife. I know, I already compared the Hawaiian Islands to Heaven in my last installment. Well, these are just as paradisiacal and could just be part of the landscape of the next life. Maybe the back yard? 

First stop: Raiatea. This simplistic island in the sun, the second largest of the three, has a population of about 12,000 people. Which is the same size as Red Bank, N.J., but I'm talking about the entire island here (92 square miles). The primary harbor town of Uturoa, where our ship anchored, is about the smallest island hamlet I've ever seen anywhere tropical, and I have been to a lot of tropical islands. In fact, I didn't see one hotel. Apparently, small ones are located on the other side of the island, which has a circumference of about fifty miles. Our flamboyant native guide, HeyLouie (most likely spelled differently), a real character, regaled us with factual tales of his people, the Ma'ohi, the ancestors of today's Tahitians, in between playing tunes by Credence Clearwater Revival on his instrument that was somewhere between a guitar and a ukulele. In his native tongue, his name means Big Crown, which was appropriate as he wore a wreath of palm fronds not only on his head but also on his ankles. His tattoos were too numerous to ignore, and he told us that the many inky pictographs were emblazoned not only on his skin but also on his soul. (Take that, Millennials.) Our tour on a makeshift bus (open-air truck with rear seating) took us to sacred, volcanic grounds about fifteen miles from Uturoa where the original native people worshipped numerous gods. According to HeyLouie, a male grand poobah often sacrificed one beautiful woman annually (or maybe even semi-annually?) to these deities. (Talk about a patriarchal culture!) The inhabitants of Raiatea speak three languages (sometimes using all three in the same paragraph): Tahitian, French, and English. Transparent extrovert HeyLouie had no problem sharing his tribe's opinion on the French: "We don't like them. They come, buy the land, and build on it. But they have no respect for it." Sounds like New Yorkers coming to New Jersey to me except there is a lot more land to be had here. Like Havana, Cuba (yes, I was there), Raiatea does not concern itself with an overabundance of technology, probably because (like Cuba), there just isn't all that much cash. Tourism is important, of course. The few merchants in the town peddle mainly black pearls, which are not cheap. Agriculture, fishing, and yacht chartering also contribute to Raiatea's economy. In short, it may just be one of the last truly unspoiled regions in the Pacific open to cruise ships. 

Second stop: Moorea: Having twice the population of Raiatea, Moorea is visually stunning with its verdant, sculptural peaks that reach up to the sky like uneven towers above thick jungles and white beaches outlined by transparent turquoise waters. From a distance, it is a feast for the eyes. In contrast, up close, it is an island of much poverty. Here Mother Nature has aesthetic values, whereas humans do not. For the most part, the natives live in small, concrete shacks with metal roofs surrounded by various rotting detritus that their owners don't have the energy to bury somewhere. It is sad. I wound up choosing the wrong tour as the driver pretty much used yesterday's script while we rode in a new, air-conditioned coach bus. Our guide even went by the same prefix of "Hey" as yesterday's director except he was difficult to understand through the P.A. system. The Ma'ohi tribe (apparently related to the Incas) occupied this island from 1250 AD until 1767 when the Europeans came and brought them Christianity as well as deadly diseases. (Don't think I'm equating the two. I'm not.) According to our guide, these people only offered men up as sacrifices to the gods; the women had no role in these religious ceremonies at all. Which pretty much contradicts what HeyLouie had said. So who knows? Each family had its own place of worship, which amounted to a small rectangular area cordoned off by handmade stone walls. The tour bus took 45 of us around the entire island (approximately fifty miles), stopping at noteworthy areas (a pineapple farm and the aforementioned outdoor church) and lookouts to allow us to photograph the best views. My personal favorite sight was of Tahiti in the background and the tiki huts of a hotel hovering over the clear blue waters in the foreground. It made me feel like I was inside an ad for the most surreally romantic place on Earth. That night at dinner, I spoke to passengers who took different excursions. The consensus was that the underwater world experienced via snorkeling the reefs was the most memorable. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. 

Third stop: Tahiti: This morning, I opened the doors to the promenade deck (lucky 7) to see that the Coral Princess was berthed beside a compact cruise ship by the name of Paul Gauguin. Yes, Papeete, Tahiti is Gauguin territory. From a distance, the city is a tropical Helsinki, a European version of Honolulu sans the skyscrapers but not without a Burger King (one of the first signs that I noticed on one of the building facades) and a McDonalds. So much for the European flavor. Close-up, it looks more like a Mexican city with touches of Asia, which makes sense since years ago the Chinese came here to help harvest the sugar cane. Our bus tour guide, Heyya (yet another Hey), a petite Tahitian woman wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt and a white hibiscus flower in one ear spoke perfect English.  She told us that Tahiti is a transit destination, where tourists come to catch small planes or ferries to the neighboring islands, particularly Bora Bora. It makes sense because of the three islands, Tahiti is the least attractive when it comes to the natural aspects. The waters and sands are dark and muddied, and the mountains (highest point: 7,000 feet) lack the unique sculpturesque qualities of those in Moorea and Raiatea. However, there is more in the way of history in Tahiti. Other than the waterfall that reminded me of Waimea Falls in Oahu, the stop that held the most interest for me was James Norman Hall's home. James and Charles Nordhoff wrote the classic novel Mutiny on the Bounty; the film rendition starred Marlon Brando, who bought an island in the vicinity. The novel was based on the voyage (and mutiny) of an actual British navel ship, the HMS Bounty, that came to Tahiti to collect breadfruit plants in 1788. Other facts learned from the tour are that James Cook was the first to map Tahiti–he found it by following cumulus clouds–the monetary system is the franc, not the Euro, gas is $1.80 a liter, and the minimum wage is not enough for the people to live on. Sound familiar? It is a lot worse here, though. Unfortunately, we did have time to visit Gauguin's home that is on the other side of the island. Apparently there is a museum being built to honor him. Overall, the tour covered a lot of ground and conveyed information in three hours.

In closing, if you are tempted to visit these drop-dead gorgeous, fantastique islands and have about two weeks off, I would recommend meeting a cruise in Honolulu. Otherwise, you would have to fly in to Tahiti and find transportation from there, which might be complicated unless you can find yourself a smaller cruise ship in Papeete. I haven't done the research, but you might want to as a trip here is worth going the distance.

#travel, #French Polynesia, #travel review, #blog, #blogger

The Hawaiian Ports of Call: Botanical Bliss

 

botanical - adj. - relating to plants or botany (the study of plants). (Oxford Language)

I have always thought that portions of the Hawaiian Islands were synonymous with Heaven, God's preview, His glimpse into what the afterlife might look like if you believe that life perpetuates beyond the borders of this one. 

Our initial stop on this Pacific tour of around fifty ports was Honolulu. At first glimpse, the city looks just like any other except for the fact that it is built on volcanic rock, surrounded by verdant towers, presided over by the famed Diamond Head, a ubiquitous reminder of Oahu's incendiary, yet procreative past. At Pier 2, I was fortunate enough to meet up with an old college buddy for a delicious crab cake sandwich at the port's fish market, Nico's. Afterwards, he taxied me to his neighborhood of Waikiki. Extending for miles, the beach at Waikiki reflects common stereotypes of the region: amateur surfers mimicking pros as they negotiate whitewash, tanned bodies sporting revealing bathing suits as they catch the sun's rays on stretches of parallel lounge chairs, screaming children frolicking in the foam, and rainbow colors of umbrella parasails dotting the azure skies of the near offing. Other than the view of Diamond Head, what separates Waikiki from South Beach and other similar American beaches is the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, a.k.a. "The Pink Palace of the Pacific," the second hotel built on the sand in Waikiki. Opened in 1927 before the fall, it is the perfect reminder of the glamour and elegance of the Jazz Age, Hawaiian style. Rates range from $267 to over $800 per night depending on the room's location and the season. The expansive, well-appointed ladies' powder room just off the main lobby alone is worth a visit. I am sure the male equivalent is equally impressive. As the saying goes, they sure don't make'm like this anymore.

Stop 2 was Kauai, a more natural, ruggedly rudimentary alternative to Oahu. Another old friend of mine, also from college, who just happened to be vacationing with her husband near Koloa, picked me up in her rental car at the pier, and we drove to the divine National Tropical Botanical Garden, otherwise known as the Allerton Garden and McBryde Garden, named for the original owners. Somehow we managed to get on a semi-private excursion (there were two of us women and five men) conducted by Bob, a seasoned, omniscient vet of the gardens who extended the experience by a half hour (three hours total) because he was enjoying our company. (I think he would've gone on for five hours, but I had a ship to catch.) Thanks to Bob, we learned that the Europeans and Polynesians introduced many varieties of animals and plants to the region, changing the ecosystem. For example, the pineapple that most associate with Hawaii came from Paraguay. The famed coconut palm trees came from Tahiti. Interestingly enough, but not surprisingly, scenes from both Jurassic Park and Pirates of the Caribbean were filmed there. Its beauty is unrivaled bliss, that preview of Heaven, for sure. After our visit, we headed to one of the area beaches for what amounted to about ten minutes in the water. Armed with a snorkel and mask and wearing my psychedelic dry suit from 1986, I took two steps into the ocean and hit a large, volcanic boulder with my one shin. OUCH! Undaunted and unfazed, I continued my pursuit of seeing–up close and personal–the native fish, ignoring the fact that I was polluting the water with B- blood. (I had a deja vu moment when I visited with about ten tropical fish. I felt that I had met them before in the Caribbean.) Lesson learned: Do not assume that all tropical waters look and feel like those of the Caribbean. Hawaii's beauty has little to do with its beaches. It's real draw is its sculpturesque topography. If you like to SUBA or snorkel, go to St. Croix. Go to Kauai for the jungle gardens, not the beaches (although the beached, sunbathing/sleeping sea turtles and seals were a memorable sight). 

Stop 3, Maui I chose to view from the starboard side of the Coral Princess's deck as I had thoroughly explored the island years ago and was not curious as to whether or not it had changed. The view of the city of Kahului was spectacular enough, and it satiated my curiosity from a relaxing distance. There is just too much to see in Maui to attempt to do it in under twelve hours. 

Stop 4: Kona, Big Island I really enjoyed. Despite being herded to and from the ship via a tender boat, four hours in this quaint, shopping hamlet reminiscent of Key West was just enough time. Much of the sights are walkable from the pier as well. In fact, the only downer was that I had invested too much on a ticket for the hop on, hop off tour bus. Still I harbor no regrets. Whatever happened to the black sand? I'm guessing it must be on the other side of the giant island. The beaches of Kona are narrow and outlined with volcanic rock. Even though it is difficult to swim and snorkel and surf, people were out there risking injury. When in Hawaii, most do what they came to do regardless. Whatever you do, if you come to any of the Hawaiian Islands, don't leave until you've had shave ice. Considering it is only favored shaved ice, it'll cost you about seven dollars, a hefty price, but it is just hard to find anywhere on the mainland, and it just doesn't taste the same as it does in Hawaii. 

All in all, I recommend a trip to any one of these islands as each is its own generous portion of ethereal Paradise. But if you only have time for one, Oahu is a safe bet as it has everything, even unspoiled tropical botanical gardens (like Kauai) and sandy beaches sans volcanic rocks in the North. As there is only one highway, the traffic can be rough, so give yourself at least a week there to see all of the worthy sights.

Mahalo! 

#Hawaiian islands, #travel, #travel review, #blog, #blogger, #personal essay 

The Caste System of the Cruise

 

caste system of the cruise - capitalistic, social stratification based on customer loyalty that determines a cruiser's status onboard a ship. 

Cruising is a culture. Inside of every culture is a way of life that social structure impacts. American cruise ships are tied to corporations reflective of the capitalist ideal. Inside of capitalism is a hierarchy consisting of the haves and the have-nots. Which is otherwise known as classism. Nowhere is classism more noticeable than on a ship.

The cruise business is especially dependent on customer loyalty. According to Cruise Lowdown.com, there are about 50-60 ocean cruise lines, the "big three" being Carnival (Princess), Royal Caribbean, and Norwegian as well as the independents: Disney, MSC, and Viking. In all, there are 323 ships, a huge amount of healthy competition. Based on my informal interviews with a small number of cruise aficionados (persons who have made cruising a necessity) onboard my ship, the Coral Princess, I have found that most of these travelers are loyal to one line because it just pays for them to be. Not cash, perks. At the very top of Princess's caste system is the Elite, a fitting label. These people have been on more than fifteen Princess cruises or have accumulated 150 days onboard. 

By the time I get off of this boat, I'll have 114 days, meaning I would just need to go on about three more basic cruises or another world cruise (too much time on the water when one has responsibilities on dry land) to be awarded Elite status on Princess. Ooo wee! Upon permanently disembarking, I will have Platinum status, but I am now at Gold, being this is my first cruise with Princess. What's left is Ruby, translating into three cruises or thirty days. The Elite members are the elitists on the ship. They walk around with their noses up and a special medallion (necklace with a coin) that designates their status, kind of like Indian Brahmins with the tilaks (dots) engraved on their heads. These people live and breathe cruising, spending a large portion of their lives on cruises. Most of these folks are 65 and older; many are well-off single women who are on the lonely side, looking to be "nurses with purses." (The ratio of single women to men on this luxurious banana boat is about 25 to 1. Men have their pick, often going for the youngest or most physically attractive gals. But I'm not telling you anything new.)

Of course, loyalty has its perks. Just ask anyone in a political office right now. But I digress. The top-tier Elite members on Princess are rewarded free laundry services (something that I could care less about as I wash all of my clothes in my stateroom's sink), a stocked minibar (in case you are so sauced you can't make it down to any one of a half-dozen bars on the ship), ten percent off on excursions and shops (basically nothing), and priority disembarkation (the only plus I'd be interested in other than cash back, which is not offered). As for the other groups, there is not much. My travel agent insisted that I purchase a "package," that pretty much includes everything a cruiser might want, eliminating the need for cash or credit cards entirely. I can't complain as I really like the concept of "all inclusive." I just paid too much for it.

All of the other cruise lines have a similar caste system, but Princess makes it most obvious. Like all isms, classism is wrong but is still perpetuated. Have money will travel in any capitalistic society. And if you don't have at least 30K to spend, you won't be permitted to cruise the world. Because I got ripped off re: my stateroom as noted in my previous blog, I will be attempting to negotiate a deal with the management, hoping to convince them to give me 20K in credit for their initial wrongdoing. Wish me luck. Do I want to be a part of this culture/caste system? No. As Sally says to Charlie Brown in "A Charlie Brown Christmas, "I just want what is coming to me." 

#Coral Princess, #cruise culture, #cruise ship lines, #blog, #blogger 

Irenic Cruising Onboard Coral Princess (A Critique)

 

irenic - adjective - aiming or aimed at peace (Oxford Languages)

With so much unrest in the world, where can you find peace? Ironically, it may be found in the most unlikely of places: cruise ships that tour the world. Although perhaps unintentional, the Coral Princess, the ship that I am on at present, is a irenic microcosm. As a solo passenger, I have purposely sought out companions and have found numerous persons (primarily couples) from around the world. So far, I have met folks from Canada, Austria, Germany, Vietnam, Croatia, Russia, the Philippines, Brazil, the U.K. as well as from all over the U.S. All have two things in common: a fondness for luxury liners and an adventurous spirit. In short, we cruisers are a kind of United Nations aimed at exploring the globe and having a good time doing it.

What has fascinated me has been the vast number of return customers who have pledged to remain in the club year after year. (Obviously, they have money to burn.) Just about everyone I have met so far (maybe about twenty people, if not more in three days) has been on a number of cruises, particularly with Princess. Some try to spend at least three months per year on one or more passenger ships. Although I like the idea of being on moving water, I wouldn't want to spend more that a week per year on a ship. And I don't intend to continue my relationship with Princess. 

My first impressions of the line owned by Carnival have not been very favorable. Despite an effortless check-in (but only because I got to the port late) and kind, helpful employees, it took six hours for my bags to find my inside cabin. Over a year ago, when I booked the cruise, I requested a stateroom away from any 24-7 lounge. What can I say? I don't appreciate pulsating bass lines turned up to eleven at eleven, my bedtime. Princess put me right above one of the most active entertainment spaces, and now won't move me to a quieter space. (I am looking into getting some of my expensive fare refunded. I doubt it will happen.) In addition, the company refuses to make dining accommodations for single individuals. How hard would it be to set aside one large, labeled table in one of the many onboard restaurants just for singles?  Instead, we wind up "sharing" tables with married couples, which is not egregious, but we would feel more comfortable with like-minded people. Which brings me to the food. It is not bad, but it is not good either. 

On a positive note, I have been impressed with the WiFi, the technology of Medallion, a magnetic, coin-like device worn like a necklace that allows one to open any door and even charge merchandise to a credit card. Also I am enjoying a lengthy agenda of onboard activities from which to choose on the days out at sea. It reminds me of summer camp, but most of the pastimes are for adults. There is everything from movies to pickle ball, shuffleboard, cards, tai chi, Zumba, fitness classes (for a price), seminars on everything from cooking to maintaining your waistline while cruising, trivia, music (we in the Coral Princess pop-up choir even have a performance schedule), swimming, and ukulele lessons (ukuleles provided, no extra charge). (In terms of the offerings, I provided about a third of them.) And of course, there is top-notch entertainment nightly and bands that play in the various bars from 9 a.m. until midnight daily. Needless to say, there are few five-star hotels out there that offer so much for one all-inclusive price. Which is why there are so many return customers. 

At the end of the day, though, I think that after this journey is all over, I will return to Royal Caribbean for more seafaring adventures. The service, accommodations, and food are much better. All cruisers have a favorite line that they keep coming back to, usually for personal reasons. 

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