Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
onto our own private, very petite balcony. It was remarkably luxurious for the price: $1,200
for the two of us—that included the cabin, our meals and all the entertainment and activ-
ities we could squeeze into five days.
That works out to $240 a day, barely enough for a no-frills hotel room in Manhattan.
The allure of these cruises was becoming obvious. At sunset, as the ship pulled away, Bill
and I were leaning on the balcony railing, smiling.
It was time for entertainment. The boat was made to have
fun.
The gilded Casino Roy-
ale gambling hall opened for business three miles out from shore. Attractive young women
hosted the gaming tables, offering special deals and running tabs for the habitués. Further
down was the multistory atrium. This was the ship's center and social hub, anchored by
“The Royal Promenade,” a replication of a classic European city street with shops and ar-
cades, pubs and wine bars.
We dressed for dinner and went to the ship's masterpiece, a huge banquet hall designed
in shades of red and cream to resemble a turn-of-the-century opera house, with a glittering
crystal chandelier and a dramatic winding staircase connecting three levels. Glasses and
goblets sparkled on the white linen tablecloths. Waiters in handsome uniforms cris-
scrossed the room in constant motion, serving plates of food and pouring wine. This was
the pampering and luxury that the passengers had come to expect. Afterward the even-
ing's “Welcome Aboard Showtime” capped the first day. Simeon Baker, the wiry and in-
defatigable cruise director, sang and danced and clowned before a band in the five-story
Metropolis Theater, welcoming everyone to “five days of fun and excitement.” Dancers,
comedians and music followed to sustained applause.
Back in our cabin we found a card left on our pillows: “Sweet Dreams . . . . of Happy
Shopping” with an invitation to a shopping seminar the next day. Shopping proved to be
a major activity.
We explored the ship the next day; Bill settled on a routine of early exercise followed
by reading on the balcony with his feet propped on the railing. We arrived late for lunch.
Two waiters—Ercan from Turkey and Hagar from India—served us. (All the waiters and
housekeepers on the ship wear pins stating their names and nationalities.) Soon they told
us they were both college graduates, one with a degree in tourism. Hagar still lives with
her parents back in India, and said she sees her job on the ship as an adventure. “I get
bored after a month back home,” she said.
The food arrived and the conversation shifted. Ercan told us his seven-month work con-
tract on the ship paid $50 a month with no days off. We thought we had misheard him.
“You mean fifty dollars a week,” we said, exchanging glances that said “I can't believe
this guy could make up such a story.”
No, he said, he had meant $50 a
month.
Hagar backed him up. Their work days
routinely lasted twelve hours. They rarely leave the ship during those months and then for
a few hours at most. In essence, they relied on tips from passengers for their wages, which
Search WWH ::
Custom Search