A couple weeks ago, I received a post card from an aunt who was on a barge trip in Germany. After praising the scenery, as she nearly ran out of room, she concluded, "Boat is nice. Food too much."
Efficient reviews like that could put me out of business.
Cruises are tough for travel writers. You go in feeling that the cruise is simply a convenient vehicle to get you to a fabulous place. You will not be diverted by its comforts, of course. You will walk in the footsteps of the great philosophers and write movingly about amphorae and acropoli (as they relate to the meaning of life).
Then you wind up playing bingo and eating frozen yogurt, and when you get home, everybody wants to know just two things: How was the food, and how big was your room?
OK, here's the scoop: The boat is nice. The food, too much!
My recent trip was aboard Crystal Serenity, the brand-new ship from Crystal Cruises, for a 12-day sailing beginning in Rome and ending in Athens. Serenity, the line's ship, holds 1,080 passengers. She began her inaugural season in July and cruises in the Mediterranean through early November. After a trans-Atlantic crossing, she heads for the Caribbean/Panama Canal.
Crystal prides itself on attention to detail and caters to a clientele that expects nothing less. Based on the huge number of return guests -- "It's like a country club," one said -- it succeeds.
"I could never spend two weeks TRAPPED ON A BOAT!" say people who don't cruise, but the truth is, not only did we never feel trapped, but we actually wished we had more time onboard than we did. Inside, see how quickly 12 days can go.
Tuesday, Rome: After a day in Rome, we meet at a city hotel for bus transfers to the port city of Civitavecchia. On the bus, I keep gasping as the sunlight glints off the enormous diamond ring on the woman in front of us. Hint, hint. (My boyfriend, Steve, later reciprocates when he spots a man in a gold Rolex.) At port, after a smooth check-in during which we are served Champagne, we board the ship and find our room, a penthouse suite with balcony. On this ship, 85 percent of rooms include private verandas, which have really changed the nature of cruising: Quite simply, you don't have to stake out a space in public (and dress appropriately) every time you want a glimpse of the sea.
The room is spacious, with a walk-in closet, seating area and plenty of desk space. Our luggage has already been delivered. The bathroom includes a Jacuzzi tub, Frette bathrobes and Aveda skin- care products, and the closet contains plenty of shelving, drawers, wooden hangers and a hair dryer. The refrigerator is stocked with complimentary Evian water and soft drinks, which will be replenished throughout the cruise, as well as Champagne and our choice of spirits.
Accommodations are even thoughtfully made for those who aren't happy unless there's something to complain about. Steve overhears a woman griping, in all seriousness, "There are too many hangers!"
Wednesday, at sea: Today we begin to appreciate the dietary disaster that is at hand -- I am concerned, Steve is ecstatic -- despite the "light" options on every menu. Lunch brings a special buffet poolside, with Mediterranean theme to set the mood for the week. "Sir Steve, Miss Andrea: Iced tea, diet Coke?" one waiter quickly learns to greet us with a smile. The Mediterranean buffet, which inspires an entire page of prose in the daily newsletter, features tables laden with tabouli, salad Nicoise, eggplant in olive oil, stuffed grape leaves, octopus salad, anchovies, lamb, souvlaki, chicken tajine and paella.
While today we are, technically, "trapped" on the boat, the ship is no less than a floating city, with aspects of summer camp. A full schedule of activities includes aqua fitness, music lessons, paddle tennis, movies, dance class, a golf clinic and a blackjack tournament. The celebrity lecture series today features Bernard Kalb on "The Media: Serious Journalism? Or a Nonstop Circus?" and Raymond Notely, of Sotheby's, on "Faberge: Jeweler to the Tsars." There are also the spa and salon, casino, swimming pool, nonstop meal opportunities, several shops and a coffee bar. A library is well- stocked with books, DVDs and CDs, all free; Steve finds the next volume in Harry Potter when he finishes his too quickly, and I finally get to see "Monsoon Wedding" on the flat-screen TV in our room. When you're tired of cruising, we decide, you're tired of life!
Thursday, Monte Carlo: It occurs to me how really wrong it is for Americans to fear traveling to the Mediterranean because of terrorism. On today's excursion into the South of France, I encounter what is by far the region's most menacing threat: the miffed French salesclerk. (Something about one of those minuscule price signs being knocked over.) The French public toilet runs a close second.
Friday, Monte Carlo: "One more glorious day!" announces the front page of Reflections, the daily newsletter with features on the ports and the entertainers, plus the schedule for meals and activities. We anticipate its late-afternoon delivery, when we can contemplate our next day over canapes. Neil, our tuxedoed butler, serves them early every evening; it might be shrimp cocktail, fruit and cheese with cashews, or, one awful day, pate. Today, overcome by the abundance of the itinerary ahead, we are very naughty: We stay onboard for a true "day off" of leisurely lunch, movie in the big-screen theater, and laps on the Promenade Deck, with stunning views of sea and shore. What could be more decadent than saying, "Oh, who can be bothered with Monte Carlo today?"
Saturday, Livorno: While most of the ship heads to Florence, which we've both visited recently enough, we skip off on our own. We catch a train to Pisa, where we pay 15 euros to climb the Leaning Tower. (The ship does offer an excursion there, but of course it's more expensive, and on the official tour they don't have time to actually climb the tower. It definitely pays to ask ahead about things like this.) After a gelato, we walk the mile back to the station and catch a train to the walled Tuscan town of Lucca. At siesta time, it's practically a ghost town, but we find a tourist-friendly restaurant that's open. We mangia lasagna while eavesdropping on some sassy British children -- the little girl has very definite ideas as to why it is not necessary for her to wear shoes -- and watching an Italian woman consume the most gorgeous Caprese salad I've ever seen, an Italian flag of red tomatoes nestled against white mozzarella and fields of green basil. There is no one from our ship, not even an American, in sight. The people whose job it is to keep us trapped are in big trouble.
Sunday, Corsica: We amble through Ajaccio's weekly market, a strange combination of farmer's market and garage sale, and wander dispiritedly through beachy souvenir shops, with no real plan. As it dawns on us that we probably should have booked a tour, a tram passes with a jingle, setting cheerfully off on a promising excursion. In a quick second we spot Bernard Kalb lounging onboard, realize WE could be THERE, and exchange a look: "I wanna do what HE's doing!" With a renewed sense of purpose, we follow signs to the nearby tourist information center and within five minutes have claimed our spots on the next tour of the "petite train." For about $10 each, we enjoy a sunny, breezy, 90-minute tour of the island, winding along gorgeous seaside vistas in the open air. We photograph the Napoleon statue (he's in a toga) and share an Orangina, and voila! that's Corsica.
Monday, Sorrento. We take the bus excursion of the Amalfi Coast -- if you're really bold, renting scooters is an option, too -- and the drive is nothing short of breathtaking. In Amalfi, I find an upscale limoncello shop where the wise owner plies visitors with ice-cold samples of delicious lemon and melon liqueurs. The ship overnights in Sorrento, with bus shuttles and tenders generously scheduled until late at night, so after the excursion we freshen up and then return to town for dinner. We browse the shops, bursting with tiny bottles of limoncello and boxes of inlaid wood. Sorrento has a classic resort vibe: shopping till late, open-air restaurants and great watching of scantily clad people. If part of your bra isn't showing, you're doing something wrong.
Tuesday, Sorrento. It's off to Pompeii, which is vast and amazing, and where our Austrian guide tells us all about the brothels. This is the type of information that could make high school history a LOT more interesting.
Continued from page 1.
Wednesday, Sicily: Today we visit another planet. At first Sicily looks more like the Greek islands -- it was founded by the Greeks in 729 B.C. -- but as we wind up the road to Mt. Etna, the largest and most active volcano in Europe, the views become otherworldly. Lava flows are everywhere, black rivers cutting through the green hillsides. As we walk around the black earth, like a moonscape of obsidian sand, the wind is fierce. The ash helps make the area fertile for blood oranges, eucalyptus, prickly pears (originally from South America), chestnuts, pistachios, cherries, figs, peaches, apples and heavy purple grapes. Shops teem with honey in all kinds of flavors: pistachio, a rich, nutty green; eucalyptus, great for colds; and all kinds of fruits.
Thursday, Malta: While everyone descends upon Valleta, we stay in and do laundry. The machines dispense detergent automatically, and dryer sheets are provided, and it feels oddly satisfying to do this little chore. After lunch, we head out to visit the cathedral (MORE). Our taxi driver is absolutely appalled that we do not take him up on his offer of an island tour. He does not seem to realize that the more disgusted he becomes with us, the less likely it is that we are going to put ourselves at his mercy and wind up on the other side of the island with him as our only means of transportation.
Friday, at sea: Today is the Grand Gala Buffet, a cruise tradition Crystal does with flair. Of course, no one is forcing you to eat, at least not literally. ("If you want more lobster, just let us know. More lobster? How was the lobster, would you like some more?") But it would take a will of steel to resist. "These things are an exercise in discipline," Kalb pronounced one day at lunch, moments before excusing himself to get his daily ice cream. (It must be noted that I did one day witness two gentlemen who displayed the proper motivation. "I'll have the tiniest possible amount of the banana frozen yogurt," one requested as his partner stood by, "with two spoons!") Today we pile our plates with chilled crab claws and prawns, and cold roast beef, and cream puffs shaped as swans, dimly aware that our reign in this life of ease and plenty is nearing an end. At this point, we're wishing we were trapped.
Saturday, Santorini: This island is Post Card Greece, blue and white everywhere you look. We nearly weren't able to see it, as the day before, two ships had turned away because of rough waters. Back on our ship, nestled in the caldera, our bags are nearly packed. This final day is really the lightest possible resort kind of visit: roaming the narrow lanes, seeing fabulous jewelry shops, and stopping for a frappe (an iced instant coffee) and lunch at a restaurant with a sweeping view of Thira. We start getting a little sentimental about all the people we won't see again: the super- friendly staff, our dinner companions and the colorful passengers that make shipboard life interesting. But what is so amazing is all we've seen and experienced. With minimal pre-cruise planning and no hassles whatsoever, we've managed to relax and feel pampered while covering a lot of ground -- er, water -- and taking in the best sights of the Mediterranean. Kalb said the first day that we were "abandoning the world on our own seafaring planet." Is it over already?
IF YOU GO
Crystal Cruises was founded in 1988 by NYK Lines of Japan. Its six- star ships have been named the best large-ship cruise line in the world by readers of Conde Nast Traveler for seven years and Travel + Leisure for eight years.
As may be obvious by now, this is not one of the lower-priced cruise lines. Serenity's 11-Day "Caribbean Celebration," sailing Nov. 17, begins at $3,795; the 10-Day "Jewel of the Caribbean," sailing Nov. 28, is $3,610. But visit the Web site and check out the deals; Panama Canal cruises start at just $155 per day. When you consider all the price includes -- we probably ate that much some days in sushi alone at the onboard restaurant by Nobu Matsuhisa -- you may decide it's a great value. You also have more room onboard, high- quality dining and entertainment, fabulous service, and a generally sophisticated atmosphere that rubs out some of the potential cruise irritations.
Crystal sails around the world and has an excellent Web site that details its itineraries and services. Visit www.crystalcruises.com, call (800) 804-1500 or contact a travel agent.
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