It feels
strange to be leaving America, after all this time. We say our
goodbyes to the lovely staff in the New York hostel, and in no time
at all the taxi is crossing Brooklyn Bridge from where we can see the
magnificent, ginormous Queen Mary 2, resting in dock at Pier 12,
preparing herself for her 3,190 nautical mile journey across the
Atlantic Ocean. She'll dock at Southampton, England next Sunday 13
July, and then sail on to Hamburg, Germany, then to Norway, and from
there, back to New York.
Reg and
I are, funnily enough, quite nervous as our taxi approaches the dock;
we've travelled around America, all that time feeling well within
our comfort zone, but now, as we're about to board this huge ship, we
feel very unsure of ourselves. We don't know anything about cruises
really; Reg has never been on a big ship, and the last time I went on
one was 44 years ago, when as an 18 year old, I travelled with my
parents and brothers from Singapore to England, at the end of my
father's tour of duty in that country.
As soon
as our taxi draws up to the parking area, a young man helps us get
our luggage out of the boot, checks we haven't left our passports in
any of our luggage, and loads our suitcases and backpacks onto a
trolley. The next time we see our luggage, it's inside our cabin.
Magic!
Going
through security is quick and easy, although checking in in a bit
more laborious. We were asked on our tickets to check in at 12.30 pm
(lunchtime). Check-in is staggered throughout the afternoon. We
show our passports and tickets, and are given a card with a number on
it – 45. We then have to wait for about an hour until our number
is called. The Cunard voice over the speaker system apologises for
the delay; it's because for whatever reason, they are only using one
gangway for passengers to board the Queen Mary today.
A group
of passengers have the card number 45, and when our number is called
we approach the check in desk – this part of the embarkation
process is really quick, We get given a credit-card type room key
each, with our names and a code on it. Then we have to hand over our
real credit card for it to be scanned in– so that any money we
spend on board ship can be debited to our account.
We join
a slowly-moving queue of passengers in a clear-sided tunnel which
leads to the gangway. Finally we're on board, with the
richly-coloured thick carpeting of the Queen Mary lobby beneath our
feet. What do we do now? We follow those who seem to know –
everyone is making for the lifts, and there's a crowd of people
waiting to go up to their “staterooms” (Cunard's posh name for
cabins). Reg decides we need the exercise; our cabin is on deck 11,
and the deck we've boarded on is deck 3. We can manage to climb
numerous flights of stairs to our cabin... (I mean stateroom).
When we
open the door of our room, we aren't disappointed – it's lovely,
with a king-sized bed (actually we discover it's 2 twin beds pushed
together, as a dip forms between them in the middle of the night!)
There's plenty of wardrobe, drawers, and cupboard space, with room to
put our empty luggage once we've unpacked. The little en-suite
bathroom/shower-room is stocked with fluffy white towels, flannels,
and all the usual bathroom accessories you find in a good class hotel
(and occasionally, even in a hostel...). I'm surprised that there's
no tea and coffee making facilities – I guess you just buzz your
steward if you want tea or coffee in your room – or you go to the
cafe/bar to get it. We have our trusty kettle, and hey, this is
British voltage here, so it boils in 5 minutes instead of 15!
But the
very best thing of all about our cabin is that there's a glas door,
opening up to a balcony with a view of New York harbour... and the
sea. I have always loved the sea, and this for me is the icing on
the cake.. and Reg admits that he too is enjoying the sea view, and
is glad we upgraded from our previous cabin, which would have given
us a view of the lifeboats for the whole of the journey.
It's now
mid afternoon; people are still boarding. We're quite peckish and
there's food available – one thing about this ship, and I believe
most cruise ships, is the abundance of food. We visit The King's
Court, where there's a choice of
hot or cold buffet food, and numerous desserts.
After
lunch tiredness overwhelms us and we sleep – we haven't even
unpacked yet. Before the voyage we had to choose between a 6.00pm or
8.30 pm dinner sitting – we chose the earlier sitting. Today, we
wouldn't be hungry enough to eat at 6.00 pm, but if we were, we
couldn't go to our allocated restaurant, The Britannia,
because even on informal nights, men have to wear a jacket. The
Kings Court is the only restaurant on board the Queen Mary where,
after 6.00 pm, a man can eat without his jacket on. This restaurant
is self-serve buffet style.
The
only jacket we've brought for Reg is his suit, and that is currently
lying badly creased at the bottom of his suitcase – as are his suit
trousers and his 2 shirts – the only 2 shirts he owns, one of which
was newly bought for this trip. Shirts, in Reg's eyes, are for
weddings, Christenings and funerals.
Even
though I was aware of the need for men to wear a jacket if you want a
sit-down dinner, I am slightly annoyed by the exclusiveness of this;
but this is the Queen Mary, and of course some people board this ship
because they love all this formality and posh dressing. One guest
informs me that up until recently men used to be able to dine
jacketless on the first and last night of the voyage; but people
complained! Also Cunard wanted to
make it possible for people to dress less formally for dinner – but
when they conducted a survey, the response was overwhelmingly to keep
the number of formal nights (of which there are 3 on this crossing –
that's dark suit or tuxedo for men, plus shirt and tie or dicky-bow)
and to keep it that men must wear a jacket (though not a tie) on
informal nights. Women can wear virtually what they like as long as
its smart.
I
should mention at this point that there's also an upper echelon of
guests who occupy suites rather
than cabins (or staterooms).
These elite guests are allocated to eat in the Princess Grill;
ordinary passengers are not allowed to eat there. The Cunard info
specifies that in the Princess Grill, guests can order whatever they
like – provided it's on board ship.
We
eat in The Kings Court, which is hot and cold buffet food, and
it's delicious. I'll tackle the ironing of Reg's crumpled suit and
shirts, and my crushed jacket, in the morning. I still haven't
unpacked my suitcase.
When
we return to our cabin, our personal steward Fernando (he looks after
15 cabins on this deck) has closed our curtains and turned down our
bed. I guess we will gradually get used to the Queen Mary's
etiquette – but at the moment we're still feeling a little like, if
you'll excuse the pun, fish out of water.
I
step out onto our balcony, and the balmy sea air and majesty of the
movement of the water more than make up for any indignation I may
feel about having to conform to a certain dress code in order to eat
in our allocated restaurant. A smooth Atlantic crossing is
predicted – but I have brought my wrist bands and motion sickness
tablets, just in case.
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