Forthcoming a gap in posts while I am on expedition. On what feels like another of my homes. Not the same as an ancestral home, nor a descendants' home, but one of like-minded, unencumbered-for-the-duration individuals. Let's say a desirable home in my modest world ― "all things being equal," requiring cooperation in matters of health, timing, and finances.
A small ship by most standards. Not your glitzy, hyperactive, floating city of thousands. One that normally carries about 500+ passengers, but with strategic booking of repositioning cruises usually has many less. Just a small village. Borrrring, right? No casinos, no DJs, no extravaganza entertainment, no catering to children, no all-night noisy parties, no cell phones! ... although I've spotted busy laptops in the bar during British business hours.
A ship that offers out-of-the-way ports and land excursions. Europe, Asia, Africa are possible. We're not talking intensive local immersion here. But quietly fabulous guest experts not only give talks from experience, show docs, demonstrate customs, mingle with us, they prepare us for our memorable journeys ashore. As do the local guides. Cruising spiced with wonderful food you couldn't possibly make in your own kitchen and occasional endearing amateur performances by the crew. Dull, isn't it?
You wouldn't like it at all.
There's more than one such little ho-hum treasure ship afloat. A ship where the days at sea in equatorial climes are therapeutic, curative. Where "singles" of a certain age are welcome, as much or as little socializing as you want. In between anticipating shore excursions, one can choose to read, talk, flirt, play games, exercise, nap. Or all of the above. World music in the background, 24-hour cheerful staff, all day coffee, all night balm under heavenly stars, amiable companionship.
Temporary, bien entendue, but that's part of the appeal.
What happens on the ship, stays on the ship.
© 2014 Brenda Dougall Merriman