In January 2010, the luxury liner Holland America Westerdam sailed from Port Everglades in Fort Lauderdale and set her course for the Blue Caribbean. B. J. and I were aboard. It was our Golden Anniversary cruise that we had promised ourselves. Our ports of call would be Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas, Grand Turk in the Caicos Islands, through the Windward Passage to Grand Cayman in the Cayman Islands and Cozumel, Mexico. We were elated!
The captain had promised us smooth sailing but it was a little choppy and would get worse for a while. I feared that B. J. would be seasick and my fears would be realized along the way. In fact, I would get a little green around the gills myself—something I almost never do on a cruise.
James Boyd
Anxious moments in the Caicos
Although, B. J. and I had cruised on a number of Holland America liners and we are members of the Mariner Society, it was our first voyage on the new Westerdam. All Holland America ships are exclusive vessels—similar but with some differences.
As soon as we stowed our luggage in our stateroom we set to wandering about the ship. To fully survey a great ocean liner takes time. In fact, to investigate every nook and cranny may require that it be done at intervals during the entire cruise.
We always check out the eateries first.
Huge Holland America cruise ships like the Westerdam have two large dining rooms—one for casual dining, the Lido, and one exquisitely designed for those who enjoy the more discriminating atmosphere of fine dining, the Rotterdam. There is food available on board ship twenty-four hours a day.
After thoroughly inspecting the eating areas, we move to the promenade deck. The promenade deck circles the ship from stem to stern and is properly designed for activities such as walking, jogging, tennis at certain locations, shuffleboard, lounging, dancing and courting at night under a full moon.
Our first scheduled stop would be Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas (pronounced “key”). The sea had grown to great swells. Because the shallow waters around Half Moon Cay will not allow the berthing of big boats and passengers have to be ferried ashore aboard “tenders” that bob around in the rough sea like corks, our captain opted to scratch the stop at Half Moon. Not stopping at Half Moon would give us more time on Grand Turk. B. J. and I didn’t mind. We had been to Half Moon on a previous cruise.
To pass time, B. J. and I continued our consideration of the Westerdam and its niceties while we rocked and rolled. B. J. seemed to be tolerating the undulating sea favorably but I harbored a deep concern. I knew B. J. too well.
Each passenger is assigned a table and dinner partners in the fashionable dining area. Our stateroom key card has the number of our table on it. When we present our card at the entrance to the dining room we are escorted by finely dressed polite servers to our table. It is always exciting to meet our dinner partners for the cruise. B. J. and I decided that we would frock up in our glad rags and try the delicate cuisine of the Westerdam.
By the time we were seated at our eye-catching table, the sea had magnified its tempetuousness. B. J. had that look. A red light came on in my head. They served our appetizers and B. J. took a few nibbles and looked at me quirky. I knew. B. J. was already turning a little green. Knowing what a social catastrophe it would be if B. J. tossed her cookies on the gorgeous table with its dainty cloth and sophisticated dinnerware and in front of our formally attired brand new table mates, I suggested to her that she exit the premises quickly and go to the nearest restroom, which she did.
Seriously concerned for the well-being of B. J., I apologized to Mark and Georgia Anderson and excused myself to pursue B. J. By the time I reached the entrance, she had disappeared into the ladies lounge; at least I thought that’s where she was.
My anxiety increased when I saw some attendants rapidly cleaning up a large stain on the carpet. I wondered if she had made it to the lounge. I saw her nowhere. I waited at the door to the ladies’ room. A woman coming out said to me, “The men’s room is on the other side.”
In time, B. J. emerged looking somewhat disheveled from her mal de mer.
Others were leaving the dining room with the same symptoms. The rolling sea was tossing the big Westerdam and motion sickness was taking its toll. I was beginning to feel a little queasy myself. I took B. J. in my arms and we hurried toward our stateroom.
We were having some anxious moments in the Caicos Islands. But it wasn’t over. We would soon learn of the great Haitian earthquake.
As soon as we stowed our luggage in our stateroom we set to wandering about the ship. To fully survey a great ocean liner takes time. In fact, to investigate every nook and cranny may require that it be done at intervals during the entire cruise.
We always check out the eateries first.
Huge Holland America cruise ships like the Westerdam have two large dining rooms—one for casual dining, the Lido, and one exquisitely designed for those who enjoy the more discriminating atmosphere of fine dining, the Rotterdam. There is food available on board ship twenty-four hours a day.
After thoroughly inspecting the eating areas, we move to the promenade deck. The promenade deck circles the ship from stem to stern and is properly designed for activities such as walking, jogging, tennis at certain locations, shuffleboard, lounging, dancing and courting at night under a full moon.
Our first scheduled stop would be Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas (pronounced “key”). The sea had grown to great swells. Because the shallow waters around Half Moon Cay will not allow the berthing of big boats and passengers have to be ferried ashore aboard “tenders” that bob around in the rough sea like corks, our captain opted to scratch the stop at Half Moon. Not stopping at Half Moon would give us more time on Grand Turk. B. J. and I didn’t mind. We had been to Half Moon on a previous cruise.
To pass time, B. J. and I continued our consideration of the Westerdam and its niceties while we rocked and rolled. B. J. seemed to be tolerating the undulating sea favorably but I harbored a deep concern. I knew B. J. too well.
Each passenger is assigned a table and dinner partners in the fashionable dining area. Our stateroom key card has the number of our table on it. When we present our card at the entrance to the dining room we are escorted by finely dressed polite servers to our table. It is always exciting to meet our dinner partners for the cruise. B. J. and I decided that we would frock up in our glad rags and try the delicate cuisine of the Westerdam.
By the time we were seated at our eye-catching table, the sea had magnified its tempetuousness. B. J. had that look. A red light came on in my head. They served our appetizers and B. J. took a few nibbles and looked at me quirky. I knew. B. J. was already turning a little green. Knowing what a social catastrophe it would be if B. J. tossed her cookies on the gorgeous table with its dainty cloth and sophisticated dinnerware and in front of our formally attired brand new table mates, I suggested to her that she exit the premises quickly and go to the nearest restroom, which she did.
Seriously concerned for the well-being of B. J., I apologized to Mark and Georgia Anderson and excused myself to pursue B. J. By the time I reached the entrance, she had disappeared into the ladies lounge; at least I thought that’s where she was.
My anxiety increased when I saw some attendants rapidly cleaning up a large stain on the carpet. I wondered if she had made it to the lounge. I saw her nowhere. I waited at the door to the ladies’ room. A woman coming out said to me, “The men’s room is on the other side.”
In time, B. J. emerged looking somewhat disheveled from her mal de mer.
Others were leaving the dining room with the same symptoms. The rolling sea was tossing the big Westerdam and motion sickness was taking its toll. I was beginning to feel a little queasy myself. I took B. J. in my arms and we hurried toward our stateroom.
We were having some anxious moments in the Caicos Islands. But it wasn’t over. We would soon learn of the great Haitian earthquake.
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