The best part of a cruise is sailing away
As a serious traveller, I feel a curl of embarrassment at admitting that my cruise highlight is the least serious, least adventurous, most in-between moment of the journey.
I love the sail away. All the port exploration is over, and ahead lies nothing but open ocean and a night’s sleep. The sail away is frivolous nothingness that merely marks time. I might as well admit to liking daytime soap operas.
And yet, the sail away is pure holiday distilled. On the sail in, I’m always buzzing. Seeing a new port lurch on the horizon is exciting. The travel juices jiggle. The maps come out. There are things to be done.
As I sail in, I always have a plan, a timetable and, for all the ease of cruising, things to worry about. How far is the town centre, will I have time for that museum or this temple, and how will I make the most of my day?
On the sail away, however, all that is behind me. Worries have proved unfounded, the adrenaline has faded, I have the satisfaction of another day well spent in another fine port.
I’m no longer thinking about anything. The sail away is pure holiday because, for an hour, I exist in a pleasurable limbo.
There might be a little sail-away party up on deck: jaunty music and clinking cocktails as an island recedes and silvery ocean unfolds. Or maybe a cold beer in an observation lounge as a fjord slides past, before a red sun bobs on the darkening horizon of an open sea.
Then there’s the quiet joy of conqueror’s syndrome. I can be up on deck as seagulls swoop, looking back on the bastions, towers and cathedral spires of a city just explored, and which I now know something about: another notch on the bedpost of my travel obsessions.
The sail away is beautiful. It beats the drive away or the flyaway. What city is ever best presented from its highways or airport? Cities are always grand and inspiring from the sea.
Besides, the sail away is almost always in the late afternoon, and you can watch the day flare and fade. The sun might set fire to cliffs or semaphore off skyscrapers. Tropical storm cells might march across a purple horizon.
Landscapes are at their most saturated with colour. You’ll never forget the sail-away from Santorini or Bora Bora or Istanbul.
The other reason the sail away is pure holiday is that you’re heading onwards, yet don’t have to be bothered with lugging a suitcase, finding a hotel or getting to the next destination. Total relaxation comes from the knowledge that a good dinner awaits, and all you need do is fall asleep.
Next day, as if by magic, you’re somewhere else. Is it embarrassing to admit I like things this easy as a traveller? Maybe I should be boasting of a six-hour bus ride, a horrendous hotel, or an encounter with pickpockets.
But no. Been there, done that. These days I’m happy on a ship’s deck, gin-and-tonic in hand, breeze blowing, sea sloshing against the bow. My only trouble is deciding whether to have Florentine steak or Maine lobster for dinner.
But why even think about that, right now? For an hour, this is the ultimate escapism. A day well done, and the promise of another tomorrow. My eyes fix on a new horizon, but just for now, I live in the moment.
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