I will enjoy this morning’s sunrise from the comfort of my chair on my private veranda. I had been calling it a ‘balcony,’ but veranda sounds ever so much better. Elitist that I am, I prefer the mildly exotic description with its rollable ‘r’ and soft, drown out ‘a’ over the more pedestrian description with its guttural ‘b’ and hard ‘c’.
The veranda is, ironically, both more and less private at the same time. It is more private in that it is far cozier, my field of view limited to a thirty degree arc by the walls on each side of it. It is less intimate than the sky deck, though, because when I’m up there all I can hear is the wind and the ship’s engines. The veranda is loud with the sounds of other early risers. If I was the only one out on my veranda and there were no other people out on their balconies, I would predominantly be surrounded by the hissing and splashing sounds of the water rushing by at 20 knots. There is still a bass undertone from the engines, but it is muted by the sounds of the water.
If, on the other hand, and as is the case this morning, anyone drags a chair across their balcony floor or has a conversation while sitting with their cabin mate, the sound is amplified and transmitted by the sounding-board floor of the steel ship. Should anyone in hard-heeled shoes walk across the floor of the deck above, I hear their sharp, staccato passage. While it’s cacophonous at first, all of that eventually blends into the sub-perceptible background noise of shipboard life.
The motion of the boat is the same way. The first day feels strange indeed. Even with the smooth waters that we’ve enjoyed thus far, there is a vibration that can be felt through the deck that reminds me of sitting next to someone with nervous foot syndrome. Until you get used to it, you’re looking around for the foot tapper so can ask them to PLEASE JUST STOP! As the water has been calm, the rolling motion is very subtle - you have to be sitting in the same place and same position for awhile to even notice it. I’ve found that if you can get the unsteadiness associated with having partaken in an alcohol-laced beverage in synch with the motion of the ship, it nets out to a rock steady platform.
Get those two out of phase, though, and it’s watch out below!
The sun is finally rising above the horizon off to the right side edge of my restricted view, just out of the corner of my eye. We’re headed just a smidgen north of west, so the sun rising in the east is perfectly positioned for my needs. And to top it all off, just in front of me is the Celebrity cruise ship, probably the Solstice that joined us at Grand Cayman yesterday, which we have just caught up and passed. Left it in our wake, literally.
The Captain must be reading this blog.
As this is the beginning of our third full day on the relaxing ride across the water, I find that I am finally becoming acclimated to Cruise Time and losing some of the overwrought tension and stress one associates with Eastern Daylight Get The Hell Outta My Way Time. That said, if those folks a few balconies down from my veranda don’t stop letting that door slam, I’m going to explode.
I think it takes a few more days to get over that kind of thing.
We will arrive at Cozumel, Mexico in a couple of hours. We have no real plans, but will probably go ashore anyway. I imagine that if we don’t leave the pier area we will find that in comparison to Cayman, it will be a lot like going to a mall in a different city - same stuff, different accents.