Navigator of the Seas

Monday was a day at sea, as we make our way from Alexandria to Messina, Italy. Last night we turned our clocks BACK, thereby regaining the hour we lost last week, and making us eight hours ahead of our friends and family in Denver.

We had a very quiet day. The only thing we did out of the ordinary was attend the final ice show. We had not yet seen the show on either of the cruises, and actually just sort of decided to attend at the last minute. We were very glad we did. The ice dancers are quite good, particularly if you consider they are on a very small ice rink and the rink rocks back and forth as the ship moves. The show involved lots of lifting and plenty of spinning. I told Bill that I didn't see any of the female ice dancers in the buffet line at lunch!

Tonight was the final formal night. We nearly decided not to go, but it was also the final (say it all together) LOBSTER NIGHT. So we drug out our dressy clothes one last time, and then put them put them away for good.

Today I'm going to tell you just a bit about our ship, including our stateroom that we have called home for the past 27 or so days.

We are on Deck 8, probably about midship. We overlook the Royal Promenade. We have occasionally, on these two cruises, talked about the benefits of a balcony stateroom. We think next time we might consider it. We would definitely want a balcony on a 7-day Caribbean cruise. One of the benefits of this room, especially on a long cruise, is that we can access WiFi in our cabin (because we overlook the Royal Promenade, which has access to WiFi). Balcony rooms don't have access to WiFi. Of course, WiFi is so expensive that we treat it like a box of good chocolates – a little bit at a time.

We have managed to live in this small space for nearly a month without killing each other. While fairly small, it's set up quite efficiently. There is enough room for a king-sized bed (that has a curved end so that you can walk around it) and a small sitting area.

And speaking of small spaces, consider the shower. Bill describes it as showering in a phone booth. As you can see from the picture, there is not much room. Shaving my legs involves more flexibility than the ice dancers! We have often said (and quite seriously, I might add) that we don't see how some of the people we have seen on this ship fit into the shower. Can you say sponge baths?

There is plenty of art displayed on this ship, which is apparently not true of all cruise ships. Furthermore, they change the art frequently. In fact, it is changed so frequently that it becomes confusing. At first, Bill and I would say, is that the same picture that was hanging over the stairway when we went down to dinner? We realized early on that we couldn't use the artwork as landmarks to know where we were at any given time, as the art is constantly changing.

When you enter the elevators, the day of the week is on the floor. This might sound funny, but you really do lose sense of time on a cruise ship. There have been many times on these two cruises when Bill has asked me, “What day of the week is it?” and I have had to answer, “I don't know; I haven't been in the elevator yet.” You think I'm kidding.

We have had the same stateroom attendant for the entire time we have been on the ship. He comes in every morning and cleans our room and changes our sheets and towels. He comes in again in the evening and turns down the bed. What am I going to do when I get home and have to make my own bed?

Michael, our room attendant, is from Costa Rica, and he is amused when Bill tries to speak to him in Spanish. The other day he asked Bill where he is learning his Spanish. I'm sure he was thinking, if you are paying for lessons, get your money back. I'm also certain he thinks we are hillbillies because we wash out our underwear and hang them in the bathroom. But he is always very friendly. Today I asked him which way to turn to get down to Studio B. He laughed when I told him that after all this time, I still didn't know how to get places. “Maybe you'll know by time you leave the ship,” he said.

Unfortunately, this is the sad truth: after nearly 27 days on this ship, I still don't know where things are. I have trained myself to know which direction to turn as I come out of the room for the important things: our morning coffee which Bill or I bring up daily from the Royal Promenade, the dining room where we eat our evening meal, and the Windjammer (which is the big buffet on Deck 11). But as for such things as the Metropolitan Theater or Studio B where many of the programs are held (and houses the ice rink), I have to look at a map each and every time. I still don't know what's in the front of the ship and what's in the back. So, Michael, I don't think I'll know by time I leave the ship.

I keep talking about the Royal Promenade. The Promenade is on Deck 5, and it is like Main Street on this floating city. There are a number of bars and stores, and, of course, the Royal Promenade Cafe. This cafe always has coffee and hot water for tea and is the social center of the ship. There are pastries in the morning, scones and sweet breads in the afternoon, and little sandwiches from about 10 a.m. on. And always cookies. The Royal Promenade is where you head if at 3 o'clock in the morning you crave some sort of sandwich or goodie. Time for true confessions: The last thing Bill and I do every night before we come up to our room is stop at the Royal Promenade Cafe and get a cookie.

No cookies before bed when we get back home.