We woke early in the morning to a glorious sunrise across the ocean, and the sound of water rushing past the bow. The mighty diesels were a distant whisper. We could sense, rather that feel the movement of the ship, as we nestled between crisp egyptian cotton sheets and thought about the day.
The generous hotel-style bathroom was a bonus we did not expect. It had crisp white towels and five star touches including golden taps – and oh boy did the friendly Filipino cabin steward keep it sparkling clean. We gave him a bonus of $75 up front, with the promise of another $75 on disembarkation. The service was superb. He was always at the cabin door to open up for us when we popped back.
After we took an early turn around the deck, we popped into the buffet for a spot of breakfast. Well I have to tell you it was far more than a spot, not to mention the magnificent Grecian mural we sat under. You name it they had it, including cereals, fruit, cold meats, fresh rolls, yoghurts, kippers, snoek, a full-house cooked breakfast including whatever I could dream of, plus a steak cooked specially for me – although I declined the offer because partner was watching.
It was time to work off the meal. We took a turn around the promenade deck where lifeboats hung above, ready to whisk us to safety if need be. On the leeward side away from the prevailing wind many wooden loungers were already taken, with determined continentals ready to mop up every drop of sunlight. Some blankets were still in evidence. We were in the cool South Atlantic in autumn. There were no crosswords or magazines as I remembered from my Union Castle days. Kindles and palm tops have replaced them.
The windward side was quiet, with plenty of rail space to lean on and contemplate the endless ocean. We were still in coastal waters and heading for Walvis Bay. Thanks to massive stabilisers and smart engineering, there was not even a hint of a pitch or roll. In what seemed like a flash of time, we were ready for lunch. The buffet was every bit as good as the stuffy Britannia Room, except the choice was more generous. As long as I had a shirt on and something for my feet, there were no complaints. We were converts. No more penguin suits or ties.
Cunard’s programme offered so many choices for the day that we let them wash over our heads. We could have had anything from a watercolor art class, to a gin and tonic to the sound of a piano tinkling in a bar, to a flutter at the casino. I was learning that cruising from Cape Town at 25 knots is doing nothing going slowly. I could hardly wait for a delicious dinner, a bottle of wine shared, and a good night’s rest.
