Source: Cunard Queen Victoria
One of the hardest jobs on these long-distance cruise ships must be finding stuff for the guests to do when you’re three solid days underway and nothing out there but more water. I’m writing two books and thinking seriously about a third, a book about worms (and it’ll be a real page-turner), so I’m pretty much self-entertaining. Indeed, I welcome the long stretches of time with no responsibilities. But most people aren’t writing books or thinking about worms. They need something to do.
I would guess that the median age of the passengers here on the Queen Victoria hovers around 65. Three or four are in motorized wheelchairs, there’s quite a few canes, and several are on oxygen 24/7. Most, however, still prance about nimbly, so you have a broad range of physiques here to satisfy. The ship offers a yoga class where you sit in a chair the whole time. For the more mobile, there is exercise that makes you stand up, and for those frenetic fools who think they can stay young, Zumba.
Daily lectures cover a multitude of topics. Each day at ten they offer a presentation on the next ports of call. It’s a sales pitch for their tours, of course. At eleven an historian gave wonderful details about how the British fleet sank the Bismark. That was yesterday. Today it was a Canadian professor telling us about parasites and their life histories.
A bunch of duplicate bridge players coagulated very nearly on the first day. Couples and groups play other card games a lot. I’m going to have to get some Mexican train aficionados together. I’ve been remiss about that. And the pingpong table out on Deck 9 usually has someone playing. The ship offers sports equipment for those who wish to partake of tennis, shuffleboard, etc.
Musical groups—duos, trios, and a ragtag orchestra of guests and staff—entertain in four or five venues. Most are quite good. Random examples are a harp soloist, a duo playing piano and violin, a string quartet, and a lonesome saxophone player whose renditions I can occasionally identify and who gets, usually, two or four hands clapping when his solos end. There is dancing daily and dance contests frequently. Every now and then they throw a cocktail party replete with printed invitations. The captain often hosts, but it’s the free drinks that get us.
And you can spend money if you really want to. Deck 3 offers a row of glittering high-end shops on each side, and an art gallery (originals go for upwards of $50,000) in the middle. I think, though that they’re missing a bet. One of those diamond jewelry emporiums ought to be an ordinary drug store, where you can obtain things real people use, like bug spray and Ibuprophen and a notepad because you forgot yours.
And of course, there is the library. In addition to offering books, they put out paper copies of a Sudoku grid and the London Times daily crossword.
Even if you have absolutely no interest in worms, that’ll still keep you busy.