Cruising Through Time

Beside us at breakfast an old gent with wispy hair and a crisp, yellow short-sleeved shirt puts down his fork, which is sticking out of a plump sausage, leans across his table and asks: “First timers, eh?”

While it is our first time at sea, it’s not the first time we’ve been asked this question. Seasoned cruisers spot us a nautical mile away.

This isn’t down to wobbly sea legs or green gills, rather it’s because the majority of cruisers have a fair few decades on us. Cruising, on this particular vessel at least, appears to be an older person’s game.

I suspected that this would be the case, but cruising is something I’ve always wanted to do. Firstly, because there’s an easy appeal to it. All you have to do is show up. Everything else takes care of itself.

But, mainly, I wanted to go on a cruise because it offers one of the few surviving chances to experience yesteryear’s fabled glamour of travel. Despite generations of recessions, technological innovations and the wallet-attracting economy of no-frills flights, cruising has managed to retain its sense of occasion and old-world romance. It is nostalgia at its most alive and vibrant and opulent. It is, in a manner of speaking, time travel.

Well, it is these things if you’re lucky enough to find yourself onboard the Queen Mary 2, where all the traditions, heritage and finery of travelling by sea are rigorously adhered to, and the scale of onboard luxury is palpable.

The QM2 is the flagship of Cunard Cruise Line's fleet, and she really is a bit special. During our voyage we’re fortunate enough to have a brief audience with Commodore Christopher Rynd, an incredibly well-spoken ex-pat New Zealander, who informs us that she is so impressive in size that she is not actually classed as a cruise ship. She is an ocean liner, which, as far as I can work out, is only one small step below being classed as a city. As far as my inaugural cruise goes, I’m starting at the top.

And so to our quarters, where a bottle of champagne on ice awaits us. The room is spacious and immaculate, and we toast farewell to Sydney from our private balcony. Our voyage to Auckland gives us four nights at sea, which we thought would be ample time to explore and indulge and maybe even get a little bored. Turns out we thought wrong. Despite our best efforts, we don’t manage to see or sample everything the QM2 offers.

But this is understandable; after all, it is called a ‘cruise’ and not a ‘rush’. Trying to cram in too much feels almost counter-productive, like it would be missing the point. Instead, over breakfast each morning, we peruse the Daily Progamme, which is delivered to our room’s letterbox each day, and mark out the activities we’d like to get to.

One afternoon we visit the Planetarium and watch the galaxy come to life before our eyes. Another afternoon is spent sipping cocktails on sunloungers at one of the four outdoor swimming pools while the band Vibz provides a Caribbean-inspired soundtrack. The one greyish afternoon of our trip we while away with friends in a booth, in the Golden Lion pub.

One of the highlights is spent in the grand Queen’s Room – the largest ballroom on the ocean – where we enjoy the pomp and procedure of High Tea. We manage to snaffle a prime table overlooking the dance floor where the Adagio String Quartet is tuning up. At 3:30pm sharp a hand bell rings out, silencing the expectant murmurings of our fellow guests. Suddenly, the doors on either side of the dance floor swing open and a flood of white gloved waiters carrying trays and tea pots come streaming out, as the quartet launches into its set. We partake heartily of scones and jam, and cakes and slices, and cucumber club sandwiches, and leave the ballroom quite satisfied and distressingly full.

We also manage to make time for a midday visit to the QM2’s day spa. We opt for a couple’s ‘Rasul’ treatment.Neither of us know what a Rasul treatment entails but, as it’s one of the few things in our price range that we can do together, we book it in. After arriving at the three-level Spa and getting changed into robes, we’re led through the Aqua Therapy Centre and into an egg-shaped, blue tiled room. It is here we are instructed in the intricacies and exotic mysteries of the Rasul, which can be summed up thusly: get muddy, have a shower...

While I enjoy my afternoons, it’s the evenings at sea that are the real treat, when I find myself transported to that more civilized age of bygone black and white romanticism. When royalty held court on the high sea, people dressed up and the big band swung into the wee small hours.

Cruising retains its sense of occasion and old-world romance. It is nostalgia at its most alive and vibrant and opulent.

I attribute this feeling largely to the dress code, which is strictly enforced and kicks in at 6pm on the dot. After dark, in port, you can get away with ‘elegant casual’, which loosely translates as ‘tidy’.

But, there is nothing loose about the tradition of ‘formal attire’ while at sea; suits or tuxedos for gents, evening gowns for the ladies. At first, this intimidates both my partner and I, but I quickly grow to appreciate how much nicer things are when everyone visibly makes an effort, while she looks forward to spying the more flamboyantly outlandish dresses on parade.

We enjoy some splendid dining onboard and each night brings something new and exciting to enjoy: we attend a ball, feast on a seven-course Japanese degustation, enjoy live music and bubbles at an outdoor Sail Away party where we farewell the Bay of Islands and, on one raucous night, warble karaoke before going clubbing.

These activities are fun, but it’s the small moments when I catch myself gazing out into the distance that the full pleasure of cruising makes itself known. Those times, when relaxing on our balcony or taking a stroll around the ship’s 600 metre outdoor promenade and I look out and realize that this vast city of the sea – with all its movement and merriment – is surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of miles of emptiness.

I find it peculiarly calming. I find it particularly appropriate.