Dispatch 7: Did Covid Break My Cruise Fever?

Returning home after 33 days on a cruise from Los Angeles to Tahiti and back, following a 13-day cruise from Seattle to Tokyo earlier this fall, Robert and I have reached a startling conclusion:  our 40-year-long addiction to cruising just might be over.

Sometimes, our compulsion to cruise has felt like a fever. Just as we finished planning a land or resort vacation, a new cruise brochure would arrive . . . and we were hooked. An alluring sea itinerary was booked, the land trip was tossed to the side, and off we would go. And we loved every minute of it.

But Covid inserted an unplanned four-year gap in those trips. Until last fall, we had not been on a cruise since the summer of 2019. Over that time, something has changed. Maybe it’s us. Maybe it’s cruising. Or maybe Covid acted as an inoculation.

Will we be cruising forward or leaving cruising behind?

What happened? Why aren’t we loving cruising so much these days? First, the Covid break changed our perspectives. It shook our routines. After four years without lazy days at sea, we didn’t naturally slide into the comfortable grooves of the previous forty years of cruising. Instead, a few new travel grooves have been etched: land trips, theater excursions, family retreats.

Second, the cruise industry itself constantly changes. Many of the things that originally captured our hearts have fallen to the wayside. There are no more fixed dinner seatings—we developed so many friendships over the years at those eight-top tables. Formal nights which we loved are forgotten. Ships have gotten bigger. Safety concerns, or maybe faster speeds or stormier weather, seem to keep the promenade decks closed more often. And trivia contests, always serious, seem ever more cutthroat.

Then, as much as we are loathe to admit it, we too are changing. On our first cruise in 1984, we were only 31 and 29. On every cruise thereafter, it seemed we continued to be younger than the majority of guests. Now hovering around 70, aging concerns interfere with many of the cruising pleasures developed over the years. I gave up jogging during Covid, so there’re no more runs on the promenade deck as the sun sets. I also need to limit my coffee in the morning and my wine in the evening, or my heartburn demands a steep price. I think living in wine country and an expanding budget for expensive restaurants have made me more critical of the food and drink. After so many cruises, I also feel I could give most of the shipboard lectures, which tend to focus on the same topics. In short, I am more easily bored.

A fourth factor is that the world around us is changing. Nothing is more dramatic than the rise of the internet at sea. On our first cruise, we were completely cut off from the world. Ship to shore calls were $19 a minute, and no one did them. As the years went on, internet connections became possible. But it was slow and expensive, and we always rationed the minutes. Now, we—like every other person on the ship—have our phones and tablets connected 24/7 to the ship’s WiFi. It seems at times everyone is hooked into the online world. There’s no sense of escape or seclusion. The allure of getting away from it all has vanished.

Finally, I’m not ready for my personal changes ahead. I am especially not ready for the assisted living complex. But on the kind of long itineraries on the types of ships we like, we seemingly remain the youngsters . . . which is another way of saying that we are still surrounded by the ever more elderly with their myriad afflictions of aging. Hey, I am going to vote for Joe Biden, even though he’s old and walks slow. That doesn’t mean I want to get on a ship filled with people who need to walk just as slowly and carefully. I prefer looking into the mirror and still imagine the person I once was. I don’t enjoy being constantly prompted to think of where I will likely be in 10 or 15 years.

It seems clear from all these symptoms that my cruise fever is in remission. But just in case, we are testing it with a cruise booked next spring. After all, we still carry that infection of loving a great value, exploring new places, and meeting interesting people.

Stay tuned to see if we can fall back into our old grooves, or find new ones.

Please check out all my novels in either paperback or Kindle format, including The Long Table Dinner, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst, and Tales from the Loon Town Café.  All titles are available to read for free to Amazon Prime subscribers.  Read all the posts about our French Polynesia cruise at FrahmannThoughts.wordpress.com

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann

Dispatch 6 from the Voyage to Tahiti: Cult Warning Ahead!

There has been a travel-related longing inside me that I didn’t even know needed filling.

It was for quiet comfortable seating, perfect for reading and contemplation.  And not just in one style or setting. I needed open-air sofas high atop the sports deck, as well as quiet Swedish modern sofas with soft blankets and animal fleeces facing windows overlooking the sea. And lounge chairs around the pool with thick cushions and plush towels. And I wanted them always to be available, and never feel like I had to rush around to secure my spot before every seat was chock-a-block filled.

Explorer’s Lounge

The center pool

The sports deck

That’s not all. I also had an emptiness that could only be filled by stacks of books filling every corner of the ship, just daring me to pick up some obscure title and get caught up in a topic I had never thought about before.

Then there’s that primitive urge to have someone always know your name, and be, oh so willing, to pour you another complimentary glass of wine or fetch another beer.

And I have enjoyed so much being exposed to a constant diet of interesting speakers.

Oh, Viking, what have you done to us? Is there some chemical in those carafes of water left fresh in our room every evening and morning to bewitch us into becoming your acolytes?

Sometimes, I wonder. For the first week or so, it seemed the only question we were asked by fellow guests was, “Is this your first Viking cruise? Oh, don’t you just love it?” It was always asked both with enthusiasm and an expectation of total agreement.

On a Viking cruise, even if you are sitting at a table of two, it seems impossible to not be pulled into a conversation with people on one side or another of your table. One evening, Robert and I joked how we felt like the sacrificial lambs brought to the altar. On either side of us, two elderly ladies had such a gleam in their eyes to begin a conversation, and their respective husbands were just as eager to talk once the ice was broken. Soon it was a conversation for six. And they all loved Viking!

But we learned a lesson soon enough. Don’t say anything negative about this cruise line. Your fellow guests will do their utmost to convince you why you are wrong, or look at you as though you just insulted them. Or maybe worse, they will insist you go down to customer service to make your concerns known so they can be instantly fixed. And then check with you the next time they see you to make sure you did exactly tht. (We did not.)

After a while, we began joking about “group think.” Sometimes, it really did feel as though we had fallen into some strange cult of brainwashed wealthy travelers. 

For example, we keep discovering “secrets” well-known to the frequent Viking traveler. There are often tours of the bridge or galley—they’re just not announced, you have to know to ask about them. There are cooking classes that end with lunch; they were mentioned only once on the first day at sea, with no real details on time or structure.  Apparently, you have to know to sign up early. I could go on, but passengers love being part of the “in” crowd.

Perhaps, a bigger part of the sense of the Viking cult is the enormous conformity of this cruise’s passengers. Even if you wandered into an expensive seniors-only community in the Midwest or south, you would be hard pressed to find a more homogeneous group of seventy-to-ninety-year-olds marked by upper-middle-class attitudes, i.e. wealthy white conservatives. I have seen just 5 black male passengers and not a single black woman among the 800 plus passengers. There are no more than a couple of Indian-American or Asian couples. Add a few French Canadians and one German dude who always wears his polo shirts with the collar turned up, and you have largely explored the diversity of our fellow guests.

I don’t actually know what my fellow guests think outside of their attitudes about Viking. Like at a polite family Thanksgiving gathering, no one ever talks politics. That would somehow disturb the Stepford-wife quality of goodwill around us. Until this cruise, I didn’t realize how much I missed the many curious and challenging conversations about American politics we have had on Holland America cruises with Canadian, European, and Australian guests. 

One thing I won’t miss about this cruise is hearing one more passenger say how much he or she likes Viking, because “it’s just people like us.”  Somehow, that sentiment doesn’t seem to be reflecting the “no children” policy at Viking . . . but maybe we can give these guests the benefit of the doubt.

There you have it:  Beautiful ships. Fine service, food and wine. Friendly passengers. Not to mention a full promenade deck. What more could you want? Our souls may already be lost. We signed up to do a Viking South Atlantic crossing from Buenos Aires to Barcelona in the spring of 2025. 

Surely, Viking’s guests deserve another chance to make a better second impression!

Robert adds: Yes, it’s true. We actually did hear one woman say to us that the wonderful thing about sailing Viking was that “all the passengers are like us.” I have to say that sent a shiver down my spine just a bit. There was also a “where are you from” question to which I replied “California.” The response was “Oh that’s too bad.” And another overheard conversation, “Where are ya’ll from.” “San Diego.” “Oh, I’m sorry.”

On another note: I think this is going to be our first cruise in a very long time where I’ve gained weight during the trip.  That’s unfortunate.

Please check out all my novels in either paperback or Kindle format, including The Long Table Dinner, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst, and Tales from the Loon Town Café.  All titles are available to read for free to Amazon Prime subscribers. 

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann

Dispatch 5 from the Voyage to Tahiti: Green Hill, Blue Skies, Crystal Waters

Imagine a group of islands that stretches from Stockholm to Barcelona, from the beaches of Normandy to Bucharest. Now imagine you compress all the land together and it’s no bigger than half the island of Corsica or just northern San Luis Obispo County. Populate it with no more than 300,000 people or so. Now you have an idea of the scale of French Polynesia.

French Polynesia superimposed over Europe

And we’ve been sailing through more than a bit of it. After traveling 6 days nonstop from Oahu, we arrived at Bora Bora, and on to Raiatea, Tahiti and Moorea, with a few days sailing ahead through the atolls of Tuamoto before our final stop in the Marquesas.

Consider the ingenuity and perseverance of mankind that resulted in these islands being discovered and settled more than a thousand years ago. So now, these islands and their native people share not only the same language roots but much of the same culture and mythology.

But I am most struck by their shared beauty. Yes, scenery varies. Some islands are majestic weathered volcanic peaks. Others are sandy atolls atop the remnants of volcanos long since sunk and eroded beneath the sea.  On an island like Tahiti, the beaches are black from volcanic sand, while on others like Moorea they are glistening white with ground-up coral.

But all of these islands share some constants. One is a lush landscape which seems intensely green. Another is the intensity of the sky and the sun. It’s past rainy season, and all of our island visits have been blessed by sunny days. But with temperatures well into the eighties, few clouds, and only the lightest of breezes, I just want to relax on a lounge chair with an icy drink. Even that leaves me drenched in sweat

And they are blessed with amazing water. Many of the islands are surrounded by barrier reefs. Once anchored within them, we see waters of the lagoon that are not only strikingly calm, but also incredible shades of blue. In the distance, you can see the dangerous breaking white line of the ocean bashing against the coral reefs. But in the lagoon, it is only calm. 

It’s hard for me to look down and judge how deep the water might be. You can clearly see the sandy floor of the lagoon, and rocks with colorful growth. Small fish dart about . . . sometimes not so small, as rays and reef sharks gather near our guide.

Looking at the sky, the green cliffs, the gorgeous colors of the cool water, I understand why people are willing to spend $1500 a night or more for one of those over-the-water bungalows of the many five-star hotels dotting these islands. 

What could be more removed from the world’s care and more in tune with the pleasures of the day than basking in French Polynesia?

Robert adds: The people here live in paradise, but with a cost. Without tourism, there is very little economic activity, and we’ve been told by every guide on every island how dismal things were during Covid lockdown. I can’t imagine. Nor can I imagine what school kids have to go through here. There is a small high school on Moorea; too small to accommodate all the teens here. So the others have to commute to Tahiti, visible across the water. At 5am there is a 45-minute ferry ride from Moorea’s largest town to Papeete. But some kids live an hour away from that ferry pickup point, so they have to get up at 3:30 in the morning to catch a bus. Arriving in Papeete, they have another bus ride to the school. (The same goes for adults whose jobs are on Tahiti.) And then, reverse the process at the end of the day. Five days a week.

Funny story about all the loose chickens on these islands. When asked if people caught the chickens to eat, one guide said they are very tough and not good, but there was one recipe. You get a large pot of water over a roaring fire, toss in the chicken along with a large rock. When the rock is fork tender, then the chicken is good. Haha.

Please check out all my novels in either paperback or Kindle format, including The Long Table Dinner, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst, and Tales from the Loon Town Café.  All titles are available to read for free to Amazon Prime subscribers. Dispatches from other cruises can be found on my blog site:

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann