Inna and I decided to escape the grip of a frigid February by doing a long cruise with Norwegian Cruise Lines (NCL) out of Miami. We booked an 11-day, 3,000-mile trip on the Norwegian Jade, stopping in Cartagena, Colombia; the Panama Canal; Puerto Limon, Costa Rica; Roatan, Bay Island, Honduras; Harvest Caye, Belize; and Key West.
Norwegian Cruise Line’s mantra is “Free Style”. Cruise the way you like. For starters, there are no assigned dinner tables or dining times in the main dining room. They have six free restaurants and six specialty restaurants. You can dine whenever and wherever you like. This eliminates the stress of having to rush to make dinner after a long day ashore and doesn’t force you to eat with the same people at every meal.
The Norwegian Jade was commissioned in 2006, so it’s an older ship in the NCL fleet. It was a bit shabby and nowhere near as spiffy as the Royal Caribbean ships we had sailed on previously. But the Jade was sort of typical of Norwegians in general — high quality but not flashy. And everything was impeccably clean. They were always cleaning every square inch of the ship.
There were the usual cruise ship amenities, walking track, driving net for hitting golf balls, basketball court, casino, art gallery, photo shop, duty free store, kids playgrounds, library, spa, steam room, chapel, games, gym, and pools.
The one thing we really liked was that they didn’t badger us constantly with public address announcements. And when they did, it was only in English, not the usual four or five different dialects, which will drive you bats after a few days.
The other thing we really enjoyed was that the staff were not pushy nice. The were friendly and very professional, but as a general rule, they left us in peace. Even the photo guys were low key. On most cruise ships they are constantly sticking a camera in your face and grinning madly like crazed weasels.
I was a bit disappointed to discover there were no inside pools or atriums where you could read in quiet and pretend you’re hanging in a jungle paradise. But the outdoor pools and four large jacuzzis were invigorating.
Scattered around the ship were lots of attractive bars with hokey names like Bliss Ultra and O’Sheehan’s Neighborhood Bar and Grill. And in the evenings they usually featured some okay lounge bands, providing endless entertainment. And as an added bonus, we had the free drink package which saved us a boatload of money and greased our mood slide.
The music pumped over the ship sound system was an odd mix — anything from Mantovani to rap. Around the pool it was almost exclusively rap and hip-hop, much to the chagrin of the older people. I kept wondering why they didn’t play more Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffett.
There was a excellent variety of tasty food in the main cafeteria, and the menu changed each day. But the Garden Cafe cafeteria was always a madhouse of voracious piglets feeding their faces. So, we usually dined in the Grand Pacific formal dining room where it was quiet, the food was most excellent, and we were served like royalty. I liked to eat my breakfast each morning on the fantail.
We soon discovered that we were cruising on a geriatric boat — the average age was probably 78 —with many people in wheelchairs and walkers. We were the only ones using the stairs the whole trip. The elevators often resembled a slow motion scrum.
Sailing with seniors had its advantages. First, there were no screaming kids, so it was generally pretty peaceful. And second, it meant that the pool and hot tubs were usually empty, except during the heat of the day when it looked like a whale aquarium. At night, we had the pools to ourselves, like we were sailing on our own private yacht a hundred feet up in the air.
There was a nice mix of Canadians, Europeans, and Americans. The Americans were the largest, loudest, and most hideously dressed. The Europeans were thin, chic, and pushy.
And curiously, there were a number of LBGT passengers who had a scheduled party every night in the Spinnaker Lounge. They were, by far, the most interesting people on the ship.
The yoga and fitness classes were a big draw on the days we were at sea, but they turned out to be a total rip-off — $15 – $35 for a half-hour, half-ass yoga class.
I really got into just sitting on our balcony and watching the little silver flying fish, surfing off the side waves of the ship like birds. I sat for hours on end completely mesmerized by the blue and white waves swirling and foaming around our powerful wake.
We had a starboard aft cabin on the ninth deck which was great for access to food and stores but it sometimes sucked because of the the smoke from the stack. It didn’t stink but it smeared the stars. On our return north, the smoke blew off the port side so it wasn’t an issue.
Cuba was on our right as we sailed south. Its 800-mile-long shoreline was mountainous and completely undeveloped. The mountains draw rain and clouds, as mountains do, and there appeared to nobody living there, at least from afar. There were no boats of any kind and only the occasional small fishing village.
Cuba is huge and it took a whole day to get past its eastern tip where we then sailed due south through the wind-chopped strait between Cuba and Haiti, passing close to the infamous Guantanamo Military Prison.
At the east end of Cuba there is the small village of Baracoa with tiny houses running up up an east/west ridge and a shiny white lighthouse at lands end. The Norwegian Jade then began a slow left-to-right sweeping turn through the Windward Passage, heading south from the Atlantic into the Caribbean Sea on our way to South America. The clouds were heavenly dark and magical.
It was incredibly WINDY the whole voyage, blowing a steady 30 knots with 15-feet seas. The ship rolled back and forth like a teeter-totter and rocked us to sleep like babes in toyland each night.
We were nursing serious hangovers on our third day at sea after shutting down the Grand Pacific main dining room with a lovely black couple from Miami and a sweet pair of lovebirds from Birmingham, England. After dinner we downed a few more glasses of Sauvignon Blanc at several local bars, and then ended the evening over in the Atrium, the ship’s central salon, where I sang along quite loudly with the Asian guitarist. I was a big hit with the older crowd when I performed the backup chorus. The grand finale was a laugh riot version of Don McLean’s “American Pie”.
Day 3 was another day of Rock and Roll in 15-feet seas as the wind blew a steady 30 knots out of the east. They even placed barf bags by the elevators and stairwells.
There were no other ships, or planes, or Internet and phones. Just an endless expanse of blue ocean. It was pure digital detox.
They had to drain the pools to keep the salt water from sloshing all over the deck, and they installed big blue fishermen nets to keep people from falling in. It was hot and sunny so it was a bummer not to be able to swim. But we understood that safety was the priority.
Everyone looked drunk as they tried to walk while the ship was constantly rolling back and forth. And given the fact that most of the passengers were old and unsteady, it was a comical scene indeed. People were dropping their plates and beverages in the Garden Cafe. And then the floors became slippery, so you always had to watch your step. But the geezers maintained a good attitude and laughed their way along as we crashed through the high seas. It was a perfect metaphor for the drunken way we felt.
I started my daily routine with a mile walk around the track on Deck Thirteen at the top of the ship, and in the afternoon I went to the gym and did my usual max workout. The gym was first rate and usually empty, other than a few people on the elliptical machines — just like at my home gym. After my workout I hit the steam room and sweated out the rest of the alcohol poison.
After the gym I headed for the Pit Stop poolside bar for the boat drink of the day, a Mango Meltdown, which became my drink of choice at the pool and for sunsets. It was Myers dark rum on the rocks in the evenings on the balcony.
I really have to say that I enjoy the days at sea as much as the port stops. Give me a balcony and a good book, and I’m home free. Inna and I both agreed that we want to do one of the dead-head cruises in the Fall when the cruise lines move their fleets from the Mediterranean to the Caribbean and it still isn’t too cold. It sounds like two weeks of ultra bliss.
In the meantime, we had free drinks, warm weather in February, and a balcony aboard a palatial ocean cruiser. And it was pure heaven.
