June Crossings - After Thoughts

I've been home a week and am fascinated how easily I slipped back into my normal (whatever that is) pattern of life: walking, quilting, knitting, visiting, reading, cooking and socializing. It's like I never took a trip at all. I'm wondering if that's a good or bad response, and, truthfully, not really caring enough to cogitate it on for very long.

Reflecting on the voyage, I considered a remark I over heard about the ship being a setting for people in serious relationships based on all the hand-holding the speaker observed. It resonated with me as I reviewed the pictures I included in my posts and realized how many happy, tender couples were depicted. 


Hand-holding was not limited to the young ones folks on board. (I tried to snap a shot these two dancing but I never quite got the right angle.)

One of the most touching instances of tenderness and togetherness occurred when the couple across from me read the same book simultaneously. (I snapped the shot as surreptitiously
as possible.)


One of the aspects of Cunard Queens that I relish is the prevalence of places around the ships where passengers can read or chat without hordes of people nearby, (Not something I found common on the other cruise lines I've used.) and a strong reason why I keep coming back to these ships.

I was asked the other day why I kept taking Crossings as they go nowhere. I love the relaxed, unstressed atmosphere aboard when no one has deadlines other than listening to a lecture or attending a meal. I can feel tenseness when in port as staff are rushed to complete tasks and handle guests. Plus, I just like being on the water. I've written this before - being at sea calms me while simultaneously exciting my imagination. I listen to the susuration of the calm ocean while sitting on my balcony or walking the deck and every stress I have vanishes with the sound. I look out at the Atlantic, stretching from horizon to horizon and wonder about the various creatures that dwell below her surface. I'm awed and humbled by the passion and courage of wooden ship sailors when my senses deal with gale force wind-driven waves surging against the hull and slapping the windows of this 21st century ocean liner: how driven they must have been to cross the North Atlantic in ships the size of this one's smaller dining room! 

Non-crossings do not seem to me to offer these same opportunities as I'm always getting off the ship to look at something. I like doing that, don't get me wrong; but sometimes, I just need to take a boat ride!