Cruise 5 - Crown Princess - Remnants - Part 2

The Crown Princess - Part 2 - On to Curaçao

It's really aggravating for a writer not to have anything to write with. It's far worse than having a blank piece of paper and nothing to write. Writer's block passes, and unfortunately for me, so does the thought I often want to capture. I'm out of paper, scribbling this in the margins of the ship's newsletter before I wander off and forget to capture the moment.

We are currently southbound out of the Princess Cays at 21 knots in fair seas. It is 5:30 pm in the afternoon, about an hour to sunset, and we have the Atlantic Ocean to ourselves. There is a huge rain storm off on the far horizon, otherwise the weather is beautiful. Sitting outside on the balcony is a pleasure we always enjoy. There is nothing else like it. We are perhaps 150 feet above the bow spray, maybe higher. The sea is Navy Blue, the dark, pure blue that only is found in the deep ocean. Low hanging clouds begin to pass by us, almost as close above us as the water is below us. And I don't have anything to write with.

Ah, the concierge! Are they on deck seven? Or six? The sweet British girl at the desk took pity on me and handed me all the blank white paper from her printer in-tray. I will forever be indebted to the pretty girl who probably thought I was a great novelist or reporter in dire straits. Well, maybe not, but at least she smiled like she understood. I got back to the room in time to change for dinner. It will be dark by the time we pass the coast of Cuba, but I'll be back, watching, trying to remember what I wanted to write about.

Nothing like Gale Force 8 winds to get your attention, even at 1:45am in the morning. I knew they were Gale Force 8 winds because the ship's television said so. I turned on the Bridge report which gives constant updates about the ship when the blowing winds and ocean spray forced us to close our balcony door. The blowing sheets of water surprised me, we were on the 15^th deck! I thought the old girl had shuddered and protested as much as she could Saturday evening coming across the Gulf Stream, but I was wrong. Sleep was out of the question as we jerked back and forth constantly. The television showed winds across the bow at 43.1 knots, around 50 mph, with seas listed as seven feet. Ship's speed displayed as 22.8 knots. We were rockin' and rollin' out here in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. Actually, we were literally around the corner from Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, some 100 or so miles away as we are just east of Navassa Island.  We were in the Windward Passage and I really don't have any argument with the name of the place.  My wife was uncomfortable, but not physically ill. I'm sure many of the over 3000 passengers, and perhaps many of the 1,200 crew members were far worse than just uncomfortable.

By 4:20am, the winds had increased to Gale Force 9 and the outside wind noise was seriously intruding on the happy, steel drum cruise music piped through the television. Oddly enough, I was hungry.

We covered the 253 miles from Princess cays in 12 hours and 20 minutes. The wind hadn't abated in the slightest, and laying in bed was by far the easiest way to cope with the constant, erratic motion of the humble Crown Princess.  Humble may not be the correct word here.  She's chugging along at a solid 22 knots so we will arrive in Willemstad by 1:00 pm tomorrow afternoon come Hell or high water.  So to speak.  Shuddering and shaking perhaps, but she is unslowed by the elements.  The schedule will be kept.

The gap between our joy of cruising and our cost of cruising is closing more rapidly than we expected. We already dropped any plans for an Alaska cruise after seeing friend's photos of several different Alaskan cruises, most of the ports of call, and simply comparing costs. Not really our cup of tea. We now have serious reservations about our planned Panama canal trip early next year as well.

Perhaps we need to just bring more money and pay for the privilege of being separated from the mass of passengers, but then, the costs skyrocket. When I say the cost of cruising, I don't mean just the monetary expenditures of the cruise itself.  Getting on the boat is already an expensive outlay.  We fortunately do not have to fly or pay airfare to get to a cruise port.  We are conveniently located between Tampa, Ft. Lauderdale, and Miami, three of the busiest cruise ports in the U.S. and can drive to any of them if we choose. We prefer the bus, where charges are just less than two hundred dollars for the both of us to Miami and back.  And of course there's the extra four hundred dollars to kennel the dogs for just a week. It does add up.

To make matters worse, it is à la carte once you board the cruise ship and ship's prices have pretty much gone bonkers.  Once on-board, you are a captive audience!  At six dollars a Budweiser, don't expect any breaks on-board. They don't do anything for the passengers except the basic dining and an ice cream on the pool deck. If you want sprinkles on your ice cream, have your room key ready, the sprinkles are extra.

The basic dining is still exceptional, but we wonder how much longer it will last. Higher caliber restaurants are already available above and beyond the common dining rooms, as outstanding as they are, specifically appealing to the cruisers who prefer not to mingle even with the common diners. Those dining rooms carry a $25 surcharge per person per meal. 

The shows are still free, but I wouldn't be surprised to be asked to show my room card sometime in the future. They probably haven't thought of it yet. So, to be jammed in with thousands of people has to have its rewards and those rewards are fewer and fewer than before.  We are reconsidering how we will spend our vacation money.  Basically, we do not care for big boat cruising.  I guarantee you I will never sail on the Oasis of the Seas or any ship that carries 5000 passengers.

We head back to our balcony as soon as the seas and winds subside, separated from the rest of the ship. Peace and serenity once again settle over as we sit on our small, semi-enclosed balcony. We watch as white caps rip off the top of the huge waves and roll away from us instead of hitting us broadside. The wind has subsided to 30 knots and is now off our port stern. We pass Haiti on our port side, the mountains visible through the distant haze. I can only understand portions of the captain's message over the PA system, the garbled voice says the water depth in the channel is 1600 feet. We now turn more southeasterly and head into deep blue waters of the Caribbean, our final heading to Willemstad.

The old girl has settled down. Once again I fall for the charms of cruising, paradoxically in love with the incredible beauty found only at sea. The huge, slowly rolling waves firmly rise up and dominate my senses as nothing else, and gently, slowly, the massive mountains of water disappear into the long trough of spray-strewn, almost placid swells. Technically, these are swells I suppose, but I still like the wave definition. These waves are massive world-travelers. They are the dominators of the ocean. How far have they traveled, where will they eventually crash ashore? Are they from the coast of Africa? Will they crash in front of tourists in Cancun, or slam ashore in unseen by anyone but seagulls and pelicans? The period has increased to twelve seconds, double that of yesterday's waves. The period is the time between crests, and the time accentuates the massive size of each wave. The ship's log finally shows seas as “Rough,” twelve feet or so. They look higher to me, but then I'm not driving. The Crown Princess is in her element here. And if I want to see more of it, I have no choice but to go cruising.

Most of my fellow passengers don't have a clue. They are all over the pool decks, eating, sun-bathing, and generally taking a break from the cold, northern winter. They are enjoying their vacations exactly as advertised. My wife and I are enjoying the cruise as well, just in our own way. The open sea, glistening silver under the sun, deep blue otherwise is simply beautiful.

Pool is closed...

As we sail further and further south, the size of the waves increases and soon the sea is a mass of twenty foot behemoths tipped with white spray that cause our Captain to throttle back somewhat to minimize the astonishing resistance they present. They try to impede our our voyage, to prevent the incursion into their world.  The shuddering is back, but this time it is Mother Ocean causing the protest. The shuddering and and slamming is not as consistent as the night before, but when it comes, it is far more severe. Our huge vessel cedes to the power of the Ocean only slightly, probably to keep everyone in the hot-tubs from banging their knees. Actually, all swimming pools and hot tubs are closed. The water sloshing out of the main pool reaches the overhead of the sun deck just above it. I have it on video tape. We press on toward our shopping rendezvous in Willemstad. We are now just under a day away. 

We awake Tuesday morning to milder seas. The period is down to six seconds and the Bridge report say we now have rough seas. What were they yesterday, I wonder? We opened the balcony door and wiped the salt spray off the deck chairs while the Captain announced we were some thirty miles from Willemstad. He said the sea and wind had subsided and the remainder of the approach would be smooth. He also commented we were some thirty minutes behind schedule, even though we had been running at close to full speed for the entire 44 hours. My wife joked our clothes had done more dancing in the closet than we had on the dance floor.

We ate breakfast in the dining room for the first time, far more civilized than acting like foragers who hadn't yet discovered fire.

My first impression of Curaçao was from twelve miles away. I wondered why the island was brown. I thought Caribbean islands were supposed to be green. Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, was green even when closer inspection proved it to be far more arid than it first appeared from the deck of the Star Princess. The entrance to Tortola by cruise ship, by the way, is one of the prettiest we've seen. Its only scenic rival in my book is the entrance into San Juan, Puerto Rico, in the afternoon when the sun shines on El Morro castle. Still, the hills of northern Curaçao just didn't fit my preconceived notion of what they were supposed to look like. With oil refineries dominating the landscape, it just didn't rank up there with the picturesque ports of call in the travel brochures.

 

 Once we were in the lee of the island, a little after 12:00 noon, the trip turned into a cruiser's dream. Very little wind and the sea was calm. Passengers flocked to the top decks to catch their first glimpse of Curaçao, still several miles away. Curaçao, as it turns out, has less than 22 inches of rain annually, mostly during their three-month rainy season, October through December, so it doesn't rank very high on the lush, jungle habitat list. Actually, it isn't even on the list. The little island nation also lies outside the “Hurricane Belt,” but still occasionally catches the effects of nearby storms every few years or so. No hurricanes have actually struck Curaçao since the National Weather Center started monitoring the storms. As a result, the wind blown north eastern side of the island is really quite barren. Willemstad, the Capitol where we dock, is on the west side, the leeward side, of the island, and looks more like what we anticipated.

First impressions count, and we were impressed. Willemstad is a paradox, though, unique in more than one way. First, let me say we will come back. The city of Willemstad is very pretty and we want to see more of the island, but I have never seen so many refineries so close to a major town or tourist attraction. Clean, flame burning towers and vents surround the northern and eastern parts of town. The oil business obviously contributes to the economy of the island and its standard of living. Bustling, tree-lined, four-lane boulevards are obvious from the deck of the ship. Tourism and cocoanuts are obviously not the sustaining life force here. Tourism helps, I'm sure, but there is room for only one huge cruise ship at a time and I'm sure that's the way they would prefer to keep it. These people are busy working. While it is still a cruise ship port-of-call, the difference from most others on the cruise ship circuit is apparent well before you disembark.

Punda, old town of Willemstad, and the Queen Emma pontoon bridge, in operation since 1888

Disembarking is an art form we have mastered. When the ship's P.A. System announces it is clear to disembark, we go to lunch. By the time we are finished with our leisurely meal, we calmly and quietly disembark without any fan fare or crowds. Cool! The ship's photographers however, are persistent, and they won't let you off the dock without staged “Pirate Pictures” or whatever the theme is for the current port. For Curaçao it is the pirate gig. We try to decline, but the determined, almost belligerent photographers aren't about to let any potential dollar slip by. Damn it, we dressed up like idiots just for you! Be grateful and stand still while we take your friggin' photo while we pretend to cut your throat!

We are soon standing on the dock in the shade of the massive ship, looking back in awe at the 15^th deck. That is way, way up there and to think the spray was blowing in the balcony door that high!

Time to see the city that looks like it is the wrong continent. Willemstad could easily be in Holland. That's only natural as the city reflects its Dutch heritage, even though the name Curaçao is derived from Portuguese. The proper pronunciation is with a soft “c,” almost like a “z”, for the last syllable. As in Coorazow. No, not sew, sow, like in a female pig. Let's see, hmm, consider the Portuguese islands in the Atlantic we know as the Azores. The Portuguese call them the Açores. The pronunciation is the same, ah, you know what, screw it.

We walk past the de rigueur tents and tables set up just outside the official customs zone of the dock, checking souvenirs and prices as we go. The vendors show the same practiced tolerance found in any port, but they smile easily. And they are actually polite. We have been treated otherwise, believe me.

Strange native costumes greet visitors to Curaçao, or rather,
Curaçao greets visitor's strange native costumes...

Ah, A writing pad! One of those old-fashioned lined ones from days of yore, you know, high school! A kind, but somewhat bewildered saleslady with a limited knowledge of English, dug out an old white pad from a stack of paper products near the cash register in a Willemstad dime store. She looked at me as if I were trying to pull a fast one, but, took my FL 2.90, about $1.70, without question and cautiously closed the cash register drawer. 

Now, to catch up. I actually started scribbling while we were having one of our rare soft drinks in a sidewalk cafe, oddly enough across the street from a McDonald’s. We had crossed the Queen Emma pontoon bridge over into Punda, the original section of the city, and spent several hours poking into shops and stores, generally looking around acting like tourists when we decided to take a rest break. We were sitting in the shade, chatting and watching the crowd of tourists that shuffled aimlessly along, not like us, of course.  We were joking about the McDonalds across the street when a police car rushed up, quickly parked and blocked the street. Two uniformed officers got out and headed toward the restaurant. We joked, “Man, they must be hungry!” but it turned out to be a business call. 

They met an agitated, concerned young woman wearing the traditional McDonald's management-type uniform on the sidewalk outside the store. We watched idly as they all disappeared inside. Soon, they all reappeared on the sidewalk with three young, clean cut, muscular looking young white men in tow. The tallest of the three had on a red T-shirt with “Guantanamo Fire Department” emblazoned across the back. He was obviously not happy, taking photos of both police officers, their car, the license plates, the manager, and anything else he thought would intimidate the police officers who simply ignored him.  The two police officers addressed the other two men who stood with their arms folded across their chests.  We could only imagine the confrontation inside the restaurant.

We finished our drinks and headed back toward the ship, and as we crossed the street we heard one of the police officers say rather firmly, “No one is going anywhere until the U.S. consul arrives!” A good time to speak German.

We asked a woman we stopped on the street if, by chance, she knew where the Numismatic Museum is located, the one attraction we all wanted to visit.  That is the coin and money museum run by the Bank of the Netherlands.  The lady walked us a complete block out of her way, saying hello to friends as she went, even stopping to caress a baby of a friend, just to point to the building several blocks away. We walked right past it coming in and didn't see the sign. We thanked her and slowly headed in that direction, but got sidetracked once again, this time by the huge open air vegetable market we could see down a side street. By the time we reached where the Queen Emma bridge should be, we realize we have missed the museum once again. Oh well, something to see next time!

Waiting on the Queen Emma pontoon bridge.

The Queen Emma bridge wasn't there. It was completely on the other side of St. Anna Bay. We joined the throngs patiently waiting for a tug boat to tow an ocean-going freighter slowly up the bay, taking photos as we waited for the floating pontoon bridge to chug across the river and reattach to the landing. The bridge is self powered, and within minutes of the freighter passing, the bridge reopened and hordes of pedestrians crossed the bridge in both directions.

We finally bought our goodies at the shops we knew to have the lowest prices, we never buy going in to town, only coming out after we know prices, and we picked up a bottle of blue Curaçao liqueur for a friend. Of course we bought the prerequisite trinkets and mementos, stuff that always ends up in a junk drawer somewhere, but, hey, that's one reason we're here. 

Time to head for the ship and another great dinner.

Punda, the heart of the old city is gaily lighted with reds, blues, and greens as dusk settles over Willemstad, Curaçao. We ate another marvelous dinner on the ship and decided to just relax on the ship and not go back into town.  We later stood on the top deck taking in one last view of the pretty city before going to the ship's theater and watching another one of the great shows, the ship's company version of “Motor City.”  This time the dancers had a flat, level stage to perform on! I still don't see how they do it in heavy seas!

We headed back up top after the show to catch our last glimpse of Willemstad as we cast off and headed toward our morning arrival in near-by Aruba. This departure was quite different from our last port departure on a Princess ship when we left San Juan on the Star Princess some eight years before. On that trip, we were adjacent to a Carnival Cruise lines ship that blared party music almost non-stop. The Star Princess was comatose by comparison. When we finally slid out of our berth late that night, it was if the Star Princess was trying to slip out of a party without being noticed. While the revelers next door waved goodbye, we slipped silently and morosely out into the dark harbor. We nick-named that cruise the “Geritol Cruise.”

This one was different. We think it was the work of an energetic young woman we met back on day one when I stopped her on a staircase and asked some inane question about the ship, like, where could I get writing material. She cheerfully helped as much as possible, and before being swept away by the throngs that surrounded her. It turned out to be Lisa Ball, the ship's cruise director. The “company” part of the cruise was really enjoyable because of her. 

 To me there are two main parts to cruising: the “natural” part, ie, ocean, sky, weather, the enjoyment that comes without any outside influence, and the “company” part, which includes music, dancing, dining, and entertainment, the part that is supplied or created by the ship. On the Star Princess, the “natural” part was outstanding, the “company” part left a lot to be desired. Not so on the Crown Princess, we enjoyed all parts of the cruise, and even really didn't mind the rocking and rolling of the heavy seas. Part of the experience.

The good news was we enjoyed the “company” part of the cruise this time as well, and the departure from Willemstad was a showcase for Lisa Ball's efforts. A huge banner was hung across the top railings of the pool deck that proclaimed “The Ultimate Deck Party,” which usually is a warning for poor, loud music, and confused drinkers who aimlessly wander around looking for something that vaguely looks like a party. This one was a model for how to throw a deck party properly. 

When Lisa took the microphone on the deck below us (we stayed one deck above the pool deck) and enthusiastically welcomed everyone to the world's greatest deck party, we realized the group of young, good looking people behind her were the ship's dancers who had changed into casual clothes. Lisa started the dancing by encouraging everyone around her to follow her lead. Soon the whole side of the pool she was on was dancing in rhythm, clapping their hands and really getting into the spirit of the party. As more and more passengers joined in the dancing, more of the ship's dancers faded away, and soon, the whole pool deck was a mass of dancing passengers. 

Great stuff, lead by the assistant cruise staff who had stepped in as lead dancers for the entire deck. By the time they got to the conga line, by now with a live band, there were well over several hundred passengers enjoying themselves. A great wrap up to a great day. My wife and I ended up in a piano bar listening to really good jazz and a great vocalist, the very things we missed on our last trip. You couldn't tell we were under way as we quietly sailed northward at 11 knots with trailing wind and a following sea. It is only 100 miles or so to Aruba.  No rush, we would be there by 8:00am.

Both parts of the cruise were in harmony.

Next:  Aruba