“If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all”

A number of people who have cruised the Caribbean have said it: “If you’ve seen one Caribbean island, you’ve seen them all.” First, this statement is untrue. Each island has its own distinct culture, geography, and sights to see. But, if you are not interested in such distinctions, or, if your desire is simply to enjoy the cruise experience without leaving the ship, then such a comment is easy to throw off, for it is obvious you are not concerned about the veracity of the statement.

Having visited more than ten islands, there is no doubt this comment could apply to some of them — if you don’t explore beyond the port cities. For example, I might group the port cities of St. Vincent, Granada, St. Kitts, and LaRomana in that category for these port cities, unlike Aruba, Curacao, San Juan, Barbados, St. Martin, St. Thomas, and the Bahamas, are really under-developed when it comes to handling tourists in their port cities — and that is the criteria I am using to render this judgment. (I think most people who live in the Caribbean would find such a comment (“If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”) offensive — like grouping all people of the same race or all people from the same country.

Now I have to admit there is a difference when you visit a port where you have previously been. In Grenada, for example, we walked from the ship through the Sendal tunnel — a tight squeeze, one way (for cars), pedestrian walkway — and followed Carenage Street around Carenage Harbour. This is a very scenic, but very local area of St. George’s.

Back through Sendal Tunnel (the local van drivers seem to enjoy scaring the hell out of tourists using the tunnel), we walked along Bruce Street/Melville Street (it changes names), to Branby Street, and then down just a block to Market Square where there is a large local market that sells food, spices, and a variety of local merchandise. We visited it last time we were in Granada. This time we stopped at Maggie’s Spice Shop and picked up 5 nutmeg seeds (for $1.00) and took a picture of Maggie.

There wasn’t a single person from the ship in this large market. Also, Maggie said she must get her nutmeg from other places because the nutmeg trees on Granada were destroyed by hurricane Ivan in 2004 (over 90% of the nutmeg crop was destroyed), and it takes from 7 to 15 years for nutmeg trees to mature. (Just an aside: one of the seeds had worms in it, and the sealed plastic bag in which we kept it was full of worms when we wanted string it to put on our Christmas tree the following winter.)

In walking from the market back to the terminal, my wife and I stopped in a shop looking for a Granada tee-shirt. Two local teenage boys saw me go into the shop, recognized me as a potential target, followed me into the shop with the intention of getting my wallet out of my back pocket. Although I didn’t notice it, my wife did, and she stepped between them and me, and seeing that their intention was foiled, they immediately left the shop.

I’ve said it before, but if your only impression of the island of Granada (and this goes for all other Caribbean islands/countries) is gained just from walking around the port city, you have a very partial, incomplete picture of the island/country. Our excursion the last time we visited Granada took us through a destroyed nutmeg plantation, a lush, beautiful arboretum, and the hilly, attractive interior of this volcanic island.

I watched as our ship left the port of Granada from the 18th deck of the Grand Princess, and as I watched it grow smaller, you could see the clear demarcation of a volcano. Clouds hung over the center part of the island as we left, and not only was it raining in the interior of the island, but there were several beautiful rainbows as well, adding to the luster and grandeur of the topography.

Granada is a beautiful island — the smallest independent country (just 21 miles long by 12 miles wide or only 133 square miles) in the world. It is part of a three-island nation that also includes Carriacou and Petite Martinique. Grenada lies 75 miles southwest of St. Vincent and 90 miles north of Trinidad. We visited Granada on this trip because of civil unrest in Trinidad.

Barbados, the island we visited immediately following Granada, is another island we visited on a previous trip. It is the eastern-most island of the West Indies lying 270 miles from the Venezuelan coast and about 100 miles east of St. Vincent. It is a 14 by 21 mile haven covering 166 square miles. While Grenada has only 93,000 people of African (75%), East Indian, and European descent., Barbados has 279,000, is one of the world’s most densely populated nations, has one of the highest standards of living and literacy rates in the world, and has a distribution of ethnic groups typical of the Eastern Caribbean; 90 percent of the population is black, 5 percent mulatto, and 5 percent white.

Looking at Barbados and Granada from 18 decks above the sea, Granada looked quaint, natural, and lovely. Barbados, on the other hand, looked flat, or, it might be more accurate to say, it is composed of low, undulating hills (four or five) that are fairly heavily treed. It doesn’t look nearly as flat or arid as Aruba or Curacao, however.

But, once again, this is an island where the impression you get from walking the city of Bridgetown (an austere, European, rather pricey, high-class (very British), expensive stores), is not an accurate picture of the island as a whole. Our excursion, the last time we were here, gave us an overview of the island, and the tour painted a much different (and more varied) portrait.

Our excursion on February 20, 2005, began at 8:25 a.m. There were 21 of us on an air conditioned bus, and we headed to the east coast through rolling hills and farmland. We saw a Giant Baobab Tree and stopped at Park’s Farm to see the Barbados Black Belly Shop. Next, we went to the Andromeda Garden. This 6-acre garden had orchids, palms, ferns, heliconia, hibiscus, bougainvillea, begonias, and the Toci Pot palm tree. We spent one hour in the garden with our guide, then went to the Bathsheba Rock formations, a place popular for surfing. We saw the last working windmill in the Western Hemisphere at Morgan Lewis, then the bus took us back to Bridgetown, the island’s capital, and to the docks where the ship was located. My point in detailing this excursion is to prove my point: you must venture out beyond the port cities if you want a complete feeling about what these islands are like.

Even though it is unfair to say, “if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,” it might apply to the less-developed islands/countries and, too, if you do not venture beyond the port city. It is more accurate to say that each port is totally unique in its own way, but the more tourist-friendly they become, the more homogenous they appear. If your goal is to gain a sense of the local culture, ethnic diversity, and local merchandise and food, then it is clear where you need to go.

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This is a cool web site. It results from an essay contest in cooperation with the Caribbean Tourism Organization. Want to read what these essayists find unique on a variety of Caribbean islands? If you think “if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,” then read this information.

At Cruise Critic: Cruise Reviews and News, there is at this site, specific information about Aruba, St. Lucia, Barbados, St. Barth’s, St. Kitt’s, Granada, Antigua, and Dominica. By just reading the descriptions here, you will quickly come to the conclusion that the cliche, “if you’ve seen one Caribbean island, you’ve seen them all,” is way off base, unfair, and ignorant.

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Copyright April 2010 by And Then Some Publishing L.L.C.

The St. Vincent Incident

We did not engage an “official” Princess-supported excursion on the island of St. Vincent because my wife has a cousin, Ben, who lives outside Toronto, Canada, and winters on the island for four months every year. He and his wife, Sheila, agreed to be our hosts and guides during our seven-hour stay. We met them as they drove through the dock gates in their little, red Toyota Ben bought on the Internet. They loaded us into the back seat, and we were off.

After a brief tour of Kingstown, the capital of St. Vincent, we headed toward the leeward side and to their home. Their home will be located (in 2011) on the other side of a massive new airport runway being built to accommodate the biggest jet liners. The many small mountains in the area are being leveled, homes in the way are being destroyed, roads are being diverted, and the geography and ecology of the area is being radically altered. Their home will sit near the end of the runway where jets are decelerating for their forthcoming landing.

After lunch at their home and additional sightseeing on the northern end of St. Vincent, we drove beyond the airport project to a small road that leads up to the volcano. St. Vincent is a volcanic island, and the still active volcano dominates the northern third of the island. It last erupted in 1973, and the destruction it caused is still evident in the small villages you pass along the main road on the northern end.

Ben and Sheila turned left onto the small road, looked into the back seat, and asked us if we wanted to go up. Without hesitation, we took their obvious lead and said, “Sure.”

The single-lane road was heavily rutted, full of pot holes, and rough. It went up through an active banana plantation where large bunches of bananas were wrapped in tubular poly vinylchloride (PVC), blue plastic to enhance fruit development, resist bad weather and sunburn, and avoid blemishes. Workers were evident on both sides of the car as we progressed up to a small parking lot where the trail to the volcano began.

Ben was surprised there were no vans carrying excursioners from our ship. The government was building a small picnic pavillion and restrooms, but they were far from finished and there were no workers present. A single, old picnic table sat where the trail into the lush growth began, and a native St. Vincensian was sitting there, his pack on the table’s seat and a large, well-worn machete showing from within it. We all engaged in informal chit-chat with him, and he not only suggested a place where we could take a better picture of the volcano, but he introduced me to the small pear-like fruit from the tree under which the table was located.

While we were talking, an old white car came up to the parking lot, turned around quickly and headed back down the mountain. We thought nothing about it nor about the fellow at the table walking down the road from the parking lot.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the fellow with whom we had been talking and a second native fellow (this time with no front teeth) came walking up the road to the parking lot. The new fellow carried a very heavy backpack on his head. Clearly the two native fellows knew one another, and we chatted with both of them as the fellow threw his backpack down onto the picnic table and unzipped it. Inside were large brick-like, rectangular blocks wrapped in heavy dark green plastic. My wife thought the fellows were especially concerned about keeping their clothes dry for in our talks with the two of them, they said they planned to hike the trail up and over the ridge to the other side.

Because we were in a hurry to get back to the ship by 4:30, we all got back into Ben’s car and headed down the mountain road only to find the white car that had come up and into the parking lot, had crashed off the left side of the road, blocking the road completely. Just beyond the car was a small police van, and five police officers were already out surveying the car. The female police officer had just found a cell phone and was waving it in the air.

Just as we could not proceed down the mountain, the police could not come up. Ben explained to the police that we needed to get by the car so we could get back to the cruise ship.

There was an additional dilemma as the officers tried to move the car. The steering column was locked, so when the police officers tried moving it, they could not get it out of the road. It was clear Ben and I needed to help. I ordered the police to get stones to put under the back tires, then it was decided we needed to lift the back of the car out farther onto the road. On the count of three by one of the police officers, all seven of us lifted the back of the car and moved it five inches. We did this about five times which improved the turning radius so the car could be pushed off the road. Expanding the turning radius worked, the car was pushed aside, the officers drove their van alongside the damaged car, and the road was clear for us to pass.

It turns out the police officers were part of the D.E.A. (Drug Enforcement Agency), and they told us they had been following this fellow. The fellow with the backpack was carrying bricks of marijuana worth, according to Ben, somewhere between $20,000 and $30,000 (street value), and knowing the police were blocked from coming up, they chatted leisurely with us.

We proceeded down the narrow access road to the highway to get back to the ship. People in St. Vincent drive poorly. The main road is a narrow highway with many hills and turns, and most of the road is marked by a solid white line, although cars pass randomly solid line or not. One black car passed us, and when we turned the corner ahead, he had just crashed into an oncoming car and, thus, blocked the main road. With no police there yet, and the accident still fresh, we crept around the crashed vehicle on the far left and soon after that encountered a car with an “L” on the back. Ben said the “L” meant “learner,” and, by law, could not go faster than 20 miles per hour. We were finally able to get around this car only to find ourselves behind a small bus full of older people. Determining that it was an excursion from the ship, we felt a bit relieved, even though the time for getting back to the ship was tight. We arrived at the dock at 4:25, just in time to wave goodbye to Ben and Sheila, show our identification, make it through the gates, and hurry up the gangway onto the ship.

In the end, we had to compliment our hosts for having “arranged” such an exciting incident. We were told, in retrospect, that the cultivation of marijuana in St. Vincent is a common phenomena, and its exportation helps support a very poor nation and needy farmers.

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At id 21 insights, an essay by Axel Klein entitled, “Growing cannabis in St. Vincent and the Grenadines,” explains the situation in St. Vincent far better than I could.

At the web site, Crime and Society, the essay there by Dr. Robert Winslow of San Diego State University, on St. Vincent and the Grenadines states, “St. Vincent and the Grenadines is the largest producer of marijuana in the Eastern Caribbean and the source for much of the marijuana used in the region. Extensive tracts are under intensive marijuana cultivation in the inaccessible northern half of St. Vincent. The illegal drug trade has infiltrated the economy of St. Vincent and the Grenadines and made some segments of the population dependent on marijuana production, trafficking and money laundering.”
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Copyright April 2010 by And Then Some Publishing L.L.C.

Curacao

I had never heard of it, I did not know where it was located, and I knew of no one who had ever been there before. For me, it was just another stop on the ship’s itinerary. That may reveal the very narrow world I live in, or it may reveal the fact that after oil was discovered off the Venezuelan coast in 1920, a new era opened for Curacao. Curacao’s Royal Dutch Shell Refinery, built to distill crude oil imported from Venezuela, became the island’s biggest business and employer. This is when immigrants from other Caribbean nations, South America, and Asia headed to Curacao, and the refinery was considered important enough during World War II, that the Allies established an American military base at Waterfort Arches, near Willemstad. Tourism was not on the island’s radar screen nor was it a significant part of the island’s economy.

One Internet site described Curacao’s history in this manner: “Long lasting colonial dominance, looting, pillaging, plundering, busy slave trade, slave riots, prosperous times, Dutch trade spirit, feuds and invasions all characterize Curacao’s lively history.” Notice that no mention is made of tourism; “prosperous times” relates to the long economic boom that resulted from the establishment of the Shell oil refinery. The 1970’s oil crisis, however, ended the long economic boom and a reduction in international investment in the following decade led to a further economic decline. Shell closed the refinery in 1985.

In the history lecture onboard the Grand Princess, Thomas Judson, a southern California “educator” (his label), told us that Curacao is a prosperous island that, because of the refinery, didn’t need tourism, and this created a mindset that is completely wrong — “wrong” in the minds of tourists today who visit the island.

The island may not have needed tourism, however, once you traverse the Queen Emma Bridge from the “mega Pier” in downtown Willemstad, and enter into Punda, you realize what a cosmopolitan, diverse, and exciting venue this is for tourists.

Punda, on the east side of the St. Anna Bay (Annabaaï) is full of bright, pastel-colored, former merchant houses along the channel front. They adorn many of the postcards available in the souvenir shops, and they are one of the photographs on many of the Internet venues designed to attract tourists to Curacao. Today, those houses are occupied, at least on the ground-floor level, by boutiques, shops, and art galleries.

Punda’s main commercial streets of Handelskade, Breedestat, and Heerenstaat, are lined with beautiful, freshly painted, stores with their typical curved baroque gables and arched galleries. It is picturesque, clean, attractive, and tourist-friendly.

We walked most of Punda, visiting the floating market, central market, Willhelmina Park, the Governor’s Palace, Fort Amsterdam, and a McDonald’s before heading to Otrobanda on the other side of the St. Anna Bay.

We went to the local McDonald’s (following a sign to its location) to use their restroom. We were planning to buy a coke as well, but the lines were too long. There were no tourists at all in the place, and it was clear, because it was slightly off the beaten track, that it was a popular local hangout. From McDonald’s we headed back to the bridge.

I found it fascinating to watch as the Queen Emma Bridge, which lies across St. Anna Bay, swing open to allow ships into Willemstad harbor. It was built in 1888, and rebuilt in 1939 and 2005-2006. The footbridge is a low, wide, paved walkway that floats on 15 pontoons. To open, the entire bridge is swung open by an engine on the very end of the bridge that simply floats it and each pontoon section to one side, much as a straight arm (no bending at the elbow) is moved ninety-degrees from an extended position at one’s side, to a position in front of your body. While the bridge is open (which can last from 15 minutes to a half hour), pedestrian ferries take people from one side to the other. The whole operation is delightful to watch.

We waited only a moment while the Queen Emma Bridge was re-positioned (it was open for ships to move through while we roamed through Punda), and we walked to Mathey Werf (where another large cruise ship was docked) then along Klipstratt to the Kura Hulanda village. Although we didn’t go through the museum, we strolled through the streets where some 65 historic buildings had been restored. Some of the tropical garden areas were lush with falls and pools, and secluded areas for people to sit. It is a delightful area, and according to the literature, “a shining example of some of Curacao’s best 18th- and 19th-century architecture.”

What thrilled us even more, however, than seeing early Curacao architecture, is that we walked along Breedstraat in Otrobanda on the west side of St. Ann’s Bay, which is not designed for tourists. It is where locals congregate and shop, and we saw only three couples (from the cruise ship) in walking almost a mile in the area.

Even the local shopping area was clean. There were a number of places to purchase liquor, but the shops were much as you would expect in any large city: small sports shops and restaurants, numerous clothing stores, a pharmacy, but no tourist shops of any kind. School had just let out, and there were many kids in bright turquoise knit shirts with bermuda khaki shorts walking the sidewalk toward the local bus terminal. Many had already arrived at the terminal as we walked through the area to get back to the ship — docked in the distance just beyond the bus area.

As we leave Curacao in the distance as I am writing this, several things are clear. First, Curacao is only 40 miles long and 10 miles wide at its widest point — just 171 square miles — with a population of only about 150,000 people. It is located just 40 miles off the coast of Venezuela, 42 miles east of Aruba, and 30 miles west of Bonaire. (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao are the islands that make up the ABCs of the Netherlands Lesser Antilles). Second, it is not a lush, tropical island. (It gets only 20 inches of rain annually.) Rather, it is flat. Less than a dozen hills (no mountains at all) can be seen across the whole island. Third, the refinery smokestacks (I can count 15 that dot the interior; however, they are fairly tightly bunched together) make up part of the horizon as one looks out over the whole island.

Because we took no excursion on Curacao, we did not see the large desalinization plant on the south coast, the beaches on the northwestern part of the island, any of the 40 dive spots, the Hato Caves where the geologic history of Curacao can be learned, the ostrich farm, the cactus, divi-divi trees, or Christoffel Park (4,500 acres) that contains Mount Christoffel (1,239 feet), the highest elevation on the island. But we had a chance to look at the waterfront, observe the local people and their activities, and we found what we did to be a pleasant way to pick up the flavor of the Caribbean and Curaçao.

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For a quick summary of Curacao’s past history, check out Curacao Central, a site at which you can locate hotels, restaurants, snorkeling locations, and beaches.

This website, Curacao History, offers essays (other websites) that will take you through specific periods in Curacao’s history. Dates are provided with brief summaries, but in-depth information is a mere click away, and you get a complete examination of the particular dates and events.

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Copyright April 2010 by And Then Some Publishing, LLC

Aruba

All I knew of Aruba was that it was an exotic place with beautiful beaches. That was the sum total of my knowledge, and I couldn’t even locate it on a map. Then, suddenly, in 2005, that all changed. That was when the death of Natalee Holloway (on May 30th) put Aruba on everyone’s map because of the media sensation her disappearance caused. As an American student from Mountain Brook, Alabama, she was on a high school graduation trip to Aruba,

Scheduled to fly home on May 30th, Holloway failed to appear for her flight and was last seen by her classmates outside Carlos'n Charlie's, a Caribbean chain restaurant and nightclub in Oranjestad — the same city at which our ship docked when we visited Aruba on our Southern Caribbean trip in March, 2009. This essay is not about Holloway, however, that is the most recent time I heard of it, and that incident left deep scars on the island.

Aruba is a very small island of the Lesser Antilles in the southern Caribbean Sea. It is 21 miles long with a total land area of only 75 square miles. It is just 17 miles north of the Paraguaná Peninsula, Falcón State, Venezuela, and together with Bonaire and Curaçao it forms a group referred to as the ABC islands of the Leeward Antilles, the southern island chain of the Lesser Antilles — probably more geography than you care or need to know!

It is an autonomous region within the Kingdom of the Netherlands, and has no administrative subdivisions. Unlike much of the Caribbean region, Aruba has a dry climate, an arid, cactus-strewn landscape that, in the early years, was thought inhospitable and provoked little colonial enthusiasm. It lies outside the hurricane belt.

Aruba has a clear history. It was discovered and claimed for Spain in 1499 and acquired by the Dutch in 1636. It seceded from the Netherlands Antilles in 1986 and became a separate, autonomous member of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. Movement toward full independence was halted at Aruba's request in 1990. Talk of achieving full independence has never become anything more than mere talk.

Three main industries have dominated its economy. A 19th century gold rush was followed by prosperity brought on by the opening in 1924 of an oil refinery designed to refine Venezuelan crude oil. The last decades of the 20th century, however, saw a boom in the tourism industry.

As I wrote this essay from the 18th deck of the Grand Princess, I had a full panoramic view of the main capital town of Oranjestad. From this high point (higher than anything on the island), I could look across this flat land to see the horizon in every direction. Less than ten small hills offered some gentle undulation — like going over a series of overpasses but not much more.

Along the west coast, from this high perspective, I could see the two low-rise hotels at Eagle Beach, and just beyond them, between five and ten larger hotels located at Palm Beach — the prettiest beach on the island. If you go farther north along the west coast, you will come to the California Lighthouse, named for the U.S. ship — the California — which sank about two years previous to its construction in 1910. Perched on a high seaside elevation, the lighthouse has become one of Aruba's scenic trademarks and offers a view of the island's western coastline of sandy beaches, rolling sand dunes, and rocky coral shorelines.

From this high vantage point as well, you can see the smoke stacks of the large oil refinery that occupies the southeastern end of Aruba and dominates the blue-collar town of San Nicolas. Jobs at the plant contributed to the development of a local middle class, but automation meant workers had to look elsewhere, and the island has successfully transferred its economy from dependence on refining oil to relaxing tourists.

There are two things truly unique about Aruba. The first is its language — a language shared by no other countries besides the Dutch “ABC” islands of Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao. It is called Papiamento, and it is a combination of Portugese, Spanish, Dutch, English, African, and Indian words.

The other unique thing about Aruba is its aloe production. It is the world’s leading aloe producer.  This plant has antibacterial, antifungicide, and antiviral properties. Aruba aloe is tremendously rich in vitamins (A, C ,F, B (thiamine), niacin, vitamin B2 and others), enzymes and minerals As I visited the shops in Oranjestad I hoped to find a variety of aloe products; however, they are available only in select stores and rather highly priced. Aruba is the world's top exporter of raw aloe and other aloe vera products for the world wide market.

The town of Oranjestad looks prosperous. It is a clean place of decorative buildings, many shops for tourists, restaurants, and casinos. Close to the dock are three large shopping malls.

It is clear why people often talk of visiting or living in Aruba for the temperature is a constant 80-degrees or so with an ocean breeze that keeps it comfortable for most of the year. Walking through the village of Oranjestad belies the arid interior which is dotted with cactus and windswept divi-divi trees.

When we disembarked, we walked through the new ship terminal, turned right onto L.G. Smith Boulevard, and first visited the Royal Plaza Mall, where we found a small outside shop, located in a kiosk, where aloe products were sold. Then we walked to the Renaissance Mall and, finally, the Renaissance Market. Most of the shops were the standard ones you find in Caribbean ports that cater to tourists: jewelry, clothing, and numerous places to buy souvenirs. Many of the shops in the malls here were slightly more upscale — meaning simply they sell many of the same goods for higher prices.

Along the parking lot on L.G. Smith Boulevard there are 20-25 shops that sell local products — although if you examine them closely you will find that “local” products tend to be manufactured elsewhere. For example, walking canes come from Cartahenga, Columbia., and many products are manufactured in China. Remember, however, that there are only 30,600 people in Oranjestad and just 105,600 on the entire island.

Although we didn’t take an excursion, did not visit the interior or the beaches, and ended up simply walking the shops and malls of Oranjestad, we found the slogan, “one happy island” (emblazoned on each license plate) to be true. The people are friendly and respectful, and not the least bit pushy or aggressive. Aruba is a small but delightful speck in the southern Caribbean Sea.

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The official website for Aruba has much to offer tourists or readers interested in more information or photographs of the island.

The Wikiipedia website on “Aruba,” includes information on its history. Information on politics, law, education, geography, economy, demographics, towns, country, language, infrastructure, places of interest, etc. are all contained here — a wealth of information on the island.

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Copyright March 2010 by And Then Some Publishing, LLC

Seeking a sanctuary: On the Grand Princess

I had been searching for it for two days, and I think I have finally found it. Eighteen decks above the Caribbean Sea is a disco-nightclub called Skywalkers, and from 9:30 p.m. until about 2-3:00 a.m., it is throbbing to the pulse of loud music and young people drinking and dancing. My wife and I have come up at night just to check it out, but before we even stepped on the 50-foot-long moving stairway that propels you from Deck 17 to Deck 18, the loudness of the music drove us to reconsider our decision and leave.

I am in Skywalkers Nightcluub as I am writing this. The chairs here are all living-room-style, overstuffed comfortable, the view of the ocean is panoramic, there is virtually no one here, and the view of the ship’s wake spreading out into forever is both mesmerizing and hypnotic as it follows us at 17 knots toward Aruba.

Yesterday, my wife and I found chairs along a hallway outside of Explorer’s Lounge on Deck 7, the Promenade Deck, but they were having an art auction, and the voice of the auctioneer was loud and distracting — even though we were not seated in the Lounge itself. Besides, a hallway on the Promenade Deck is more for people who want to be seen, are waiting for others, or who don’t mind the numerous distractions.

Another location we tried was the piano bar area at the atrium on Deck 7, and although there were few people seated in the area, the distractions came from people moving through and around the atrium, bar rats talking boisterously at the bar, and bartenders blending customers’ fruit drinks. There are bars located throughout the ship.

Our third attempt to find a convenient, comfortable, quiet location was the library just off the Atrium on Deck 5. Now, you would think the ship’s library would be a perfect location, and on all three of our Celebrity cruises the libraries were excellent. In the Grand Princess library there were many visitors, computers for use by anyone interested (for a fee), uncomfortable chairs, and no convenient writing tables. I know what I like (Celebrity spoiled me), and this was not it. The one thing I liked about the Grand Princess library was the outstanding bronze bust of Albert Einstein at the exterior door of the library. Unfortunately, Albert Einstein was a bust as far as contributing anything to my writing experience there.

The fourth attempt to find a quiet, comfortable, and convenient location for writing was successful; however, I do not recommend it for the feint of heart. I’ll explain that in a moment.

Skywalker’s Nightclub, with the exception of the smokestacks about two-thirds of the way back on the ship, is the highest location. During the two weeks of sailing, few people discovered it during the daylight hours (they preferred the pool areas at the center of the ship). The nightclub, however, tended to fill up around 4:30 through 5 p.m. when we were leaving a port for the view was outstanding. I watched as we left Granada, for example, and not only did the Nightclub provide a remarkable view of the port area and island terrain. Ominous rain clouds embraced the center portion of the island, and the setting sun cast enchanting rainbows over Fort Frederick just above the dock from where our ship departed. The departure was truly stunning — a scene I couldn’t wait to capture in words!

Getting back to Skywalkers Nightclub: picture a cocktail lounge full of numerous seating areas designed for four people — furnished with a couch for two, two comfortable lounging chairs, and a coffee table — with a large floor-to-ceiling picture window through which you see bright blue water extending to the horizon, and you create a vision of where I am. Then, throughout the club there are places for two people to sit in big, comfortable chairs with a small round table between. It is at one of these places for two, not directly overlooking the water, where I found my writing sanctuary. It is a place to ponder, think, reminisce, and write, and for many days on this cruise I retired to this location — whether for one, two, or three hours during the day. I finally found my writing place.

I mentioned convenience as a prerequisite. There are two elevators out of seven at the back of the ship — one on each side of the ship — that will take you directly to the 17th deck. Most only go to the 14th deck where the Horizon Court breakfast, lunch, and dinner buffets are located.

When you get off at the 17th deck, there are bathrooms conveniently located in a hallway connecting the elevators, and when you turn and enter the center of the ship, there is that 50-foot moving ramp (not moving during the daylight hours) and angled pathways on either side of the escalator that take you to the 18th deck. (Just an aside about these angled pathways with full glass windows on both sides: they pass over somewhere between 30 and 50 beach chairs on each side of the rear of the ship — and a whirlpool — where sun worshipers spend their days in the sun. This adds some additional pleasure — or interest — in walking from the 17th to the 18th decks.)

Our room (Emerald Deck Room 614) is located toward the rear of the ship, and because Skywalker’s Nightclub was at the extreme rear of the ship, adding significantly to the impressive and imposing silhouette the ship casts when in port, this made getting from the room to the club extremely efficient.

(The Horizon Court buffet is located at the rear of the ship as well. This is where two flavors of ice cream are served at 3:30 p.m. every afternoon — a convenience to room, club, and me!)

I want to mention a loss that took place between our first voyage on the Grand Princess in 2000 and this one in 2009. Occasionally I enjoyed writing in a room at the very front of the ship — on Celebrity, that location was called the Fleet Bar — and on Grand Princess they have created a new area called “The Sanctuary” which, I think, would be ideal.

To create “The Sanctuary,” they removed the jogging track entirely, which, in 2000, I used almost daily! The only problem with “The Sanctuary,” which I find totally objectionable, is that Princess Cruise Lines charges passengers $10.00 for a half day for permission to sit in this area! I do not believe passengers should be charged for this privilege, because they are already paying dearly for their trip.

I mentioned earlier in this essay one problem with the Skywalkers Nightclub, and I said I would return to it in a moment. For those who get carsick or seasick, or who find reading in a constantly moving environment, Skywalkers will be uncomfortable if not upsetting. Because it is so high, when the ship is sailing, Skywalkers is in constant motion. When the seas get the least bit rough, Skywalkers is likely to be one of the first places on the ship to reveal it. I found it soothing, even comforting, on most days, even though on one of them, my pen would move radically on the paper as I composed. For me, cruising gives me a chance to read and write, but I must find my sanctuary.

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At the Itinerant Librarian, there is a brief, interesting essay by Angel Rivera entitled, “A writing sanctuary: wish I had one of those back when.” In this essay she writes about having a writing sanctuary (although her “sanctuary” is a bit different than the one I talked about in my essay.) She writes, “I certainly did not lack imagination, so I had a chance to explore that. I am thinking now that a place like the Kelly House earlier in my academic career would have been good for me. It's a writer's sanctuary blending the formal and the informal.”

At Julie Unplugged, Julie Jordan Scott writes an essay, “Sanctuary Musings (Exercise from Christina Baldwin's Life's Companion, p 82).” In the essay, Scott defines a sanctuary as, “My writing sanctuary – all sanctuaries – have that feeling of ‘Safe place.’ Sacred, set apart. My writing sanctuary is separate and yet it is together with the rest of the house. I can watch the neighborhood as it comes and goes, the characters that play a part. I can be a witness to the beginning of each day, sitting at my writing desk.” Any serious and consistent writer searches at some time for that special place. That, indeed, is what my experience on the Grand Princess was all about.

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Copyright March 2010 by And Then Some Publishing L.L.C.