F4 FALLANDWINTERCRUISES
A single traveler’s Epic adventure
single cruise from F1 Rejoice, indeed.Wave that soli-
tary flag proudly, but don’t forget that, in the right circumstances, One can add up toMany.
No matter how outgoing your
personality and independent your spirit, solo cruising is chal- lenging. You often feel like the dateless guest at awedding or the party crasher one mini-quiche away from being tossed out. And then there’s the added insult of having to pay up to twice asmuch for the same experience as those boarding as Noah’s pairs. (The economic theory behind the sup- plement: Since you are taking up roomfor two, youmust spendlike two.)At leastcargogetsafreeride. “Before this, cruising was too
expensive,unless therewas a one- day sale or a repositioning cruise,” said Pete Balmain, a Texan who sailed aboard Epic’s inaugural Eastern Caribbean voyage in July and returned for the seven- night western itinerary less than two months later. As for socializ- ing, he said, “I’d go hang out at dinnertime just to be with peo- ple.” You’re not alone, Pete. On the
three cruises I’d previously sailed solo, I made some acquaintances — a honeymooning couple from Atlanta, a pair of boozy guys from Florida — but the bonds were short-lived, dissolving after a day at the pool and a few beers in the bar.Meals were especially trying. At one dinner, I satwith amother and daughter fromMiami whose conversation revolved around the daughter’s unplanned pregnancy and the cad who hadn’t stuck around. I felt like an extra in a “RealWorld:At Sea” episode. But on the Epic, the discomfort
of traveling alone receded as quickly as the Miami shoreline. Shortly after setting sail, I already hadanengagement, theSoloTrav- eler Gathering in the Living Room. Potential travel compan- ions awaited. All I had to do was locate the 11th-floor lounge onthe second-largest cruise ship in the world. Note to newcomers: Give yourself a head start. “Just because you’re single
doesn’t mean you have to be alone,” said Natalie, one of the crewmemberswho facilitatedthe daily social hour. “You can meet someone andmaybe jointhemfor dinner or a show.” On the first night, Imet a small
assembly of passengers who rat- tledoff theirnames forwhatmust have been the 20th time. Hello, Lynn, Bob,Mike,Mike andKevin. Nice to meet you, Cathy, Claire, Cheryl, Brian. Slowly the names shaped into individuals, as we shared the details that made us unique and memorable. Claire, librarian, lives in Arlington, first- time cruiser, in desperate need of beach;Kevin, hails fromNewJer- sey, experienced cruiser, thought he was sailing solo until Mike, a friend from home, decided to tag along; Mike, quick with the imp-
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KLMNO
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2010
POOL AND BOW PHOTOS BY ANDREA SACHS/THE WASHINGTON POST; BLUE MAN PHOTO BY KEN HOWARD/BLUE MAN PRODUCTIONS
Everybody in the pool! Even singles!! Cruising solo is easy onNorwegian Cruise Line’s largest ship, the 4,100-passenger Epic, with its 128 single-occupancy studios. The ship also has programs for solo travelers to meet one another so there’s always a partner (if you want one) for dinner, activities and entertainment, including the BlueMan Group shows.
ish grin. For the scheduled hour, we sat
around a long white table shaped like an elongated Z, teetering on tall chairs arranged dangerously close to awall covered in oversize grommets. Our host, Aisha, passed around glasses of cham- pagne, which helped release the conversational floodwaters. In the corner, a scrawledmessage on a large pad of paper invited solo travelers and singles to make themselves at home in the Living Room and warned children to find another fort. As I noticed throughout the week, however, the message was largely ignored: Interlopers including families and ship contractors tethered to their computer cords treated the space as if itwere theirownromp- er room and Internet cafe. To re- claimthe space for the solos,man- agement planned to install locks operable only by studio card keys. “It’snot a swinging clubandit’s
not
aMatch.com,” saidKlausLug- maier, the cruise line’s fleet hotel director. “It’s like a ship within a ship for solo travelers.” True to the freestyle form of
cruising touted byNCL, themeet- ings were informal affairs, some of us arriving with feet dusted with sand and our hair salted from the ocean. The number of socialites shrank or expanded de- pending on the boat’s where- abouts. During ports of call in CostaMaya,CozumelandRoatan, Honduras, attendance under-
standably slipped. A core group, however, never
skipped out. For us, the hour wasn’t a time-filler but a central event. Typically, we’d start off by sharing our earlier adventures, replayingour shoreoutings (ATVs andjungle inCostaMaya,dolphin swim in Roatan, ruins in Cozu- mel) and even showing photos (Exhibit A: Mike and Kevin dressed in aprons, cooking Mexi- can cuisine in Cozumel). Though the conversation hardly waned, Aisha occasionally organized games to keep us further amused. We played Trivia (if you suffer from isopterophobia, you are afraidof . . . termites),Battleof the Sexes (the Hims and Hers tied) and FlipCup (flashback to college days). For our efforts, Aisha awarded us each a thick plastic tote inscribed with the boat’s name. I believe it was the same prize given to bingo players. Before parting ways for dinner
or a show, we would exchange future plans, extending an invita- tion to anyone interested in being a plus-one or two. The system worked: For Blue Man Group, three of us changed our reserva- tions so thatwe could accompany ClaireandPetetotheearlier show. At the last minute, we noticed Brett, a Canadian correctional of- ficer, in the crowd and dragged him down to our second-row seats. When a Blue Man pulled Kevinoutof the crowdtoyukitup witha camera anda graphic video
of tonsils,we emanated a sense of pride. One of our own had been chosen. “It’s like summer camp. You
always make summer camp friends,” said Pete. “It’s the same nomatter howold you are.” In fact, during the entireweek,
I attended only one show by my- self.Onawhim, Idecidedtocheck out the late show of Second City. Unfortunately, I didn’t knowany- one’s cabin or phone number.We were close, but not that close.
Sometimes, I just wanted to be
solo. For a semi-private retreat, I
would duck into the Bridge View- ing area on the 13th deck. The room was rarely populated, ex- cept for the crewmen in charge of sailing the ship. But they were separated by a large glass panel and too busy maneuvering the 155,873-ton vessel to swap pleas- antries.Fromthis vantage, I could scan the clear blue horizon for ships and land, my eyes once bumping hard intoCuba. For adeeper cave, Iwouldwith-
drawintomydwellingonthe 12th floor. The 100-square-foot space feels like the private lounge of a Scandinavian DJ, with padded white walls, an inside porthole glowing purple, and mood light- ing that bathed the room in soft reds, blues and whites. Care to dancewithmyself? Some guests had complained
about the tightness, wondering whether the staff could remove one half of the full-size bed. “I have hips,” said Cheryl, a studio occupant, “and they need to fit between the bed and the dresser. Just give me nine more inches.” But I enjoyed the snugness that huggedme just tight enough. The port of calls also testedmy
will to be alone or in a group. I have never been a proponent of the cruise’s shore excursions, too skeptical of their pricing. (Asnor- keling tripinCozumel really costs $60? Do the fish sing and dance for the guests?) To satisfy bothmy fraternizing and my solitary selves, Ideviseda triptailor-made for each personality trait — I would takeMiss Social toHondu- ras and Miss Solo to Cozumel. (Okay, I favoredMiss Social, who also scored an excursion to the ChacchobenMayan ruins and the beach ofCostaMaya,Mexico.) To craft a plan, I attended the
ship’s free seminars on the desti- nations.Amidthehistorical back- ground, heavily skewed toward piratesandEuropeans,andsubtle hints to“findmore informationat the shore excursions desk,” I gleaned what I needed. Roatan features the second-largest reef in the world. Cabs cost $20 per per- son. Now, I needed an aide-de- camp. I found one in the Living Room. Petewas a veteranEpic cruiser,
TOP PHOTOS: ANDREA SACHS/THE WASHINGTON POST; BOTTOM: CARLOS PRIO
Clockwise from top left, like an old college buddy,Kevin Dalton ofNewJersey is ready for a game of flip cup; Pete Balmain of Austin dons a parka at the Ice Bar; and a nice and cozy single studio.
but more important, he was low- maintenance and laid-back. Not quite knowingwhat to expect,we walkedthroughagantletofkiosks until we found a cab dispatcher. Ourdriverwouldnotbepaiduntil our return to the ship, so we had
nofearsof abandonmentwhenhe dropped us at the Roatan Muse- um, promising to pick us up later to take us to snorkeling in the WestEnd.Plus, thiswasanisland; our cabbie couldn’t go far. We spent about anhour explor-
ing the modest museum, which displayed the customary decorat- ed bowls, pottery shards and ex- pressive figurines. The placards were bilingual, and the underly- ing bitterness toward early colo- nist control was not lost in trans- lation. By happenstance (looking for the bathrooms), we stumbled upon a room full of shellacked marine life, iridescent fish per- fectly at ease out ofwater. On theway out,we noticed two
men kneeling on a floating dock, their attention directed to a pair of noses pushing up through the water’s surface. We watched the men slip food to the dolphins and the graceful creatures reciprocate by leaping high into the air and hopping like aquatic bunnies on their tail fins. From the top of the street, I
could easily see the bottom of West End, a short dusty road cre- ating a median between a few shops and restaurants and a cres- cent of softwhite sand.We rented snorkel gear for $10 each and walked into the warm water. Through my mask, I saw grass, a few gray fish and a disappointed expressiononPete’s face.Thiswas not the reef; thiswas anunderwa- ter weed garden. But as every snorkeler knows, look for the charterboatsandyouwill findthe reef. (The breaking waves con- firmed our hypothesis.) I floated over a city of coral, an
extensive construct of caves and bridges, some featuring a maze- likepatternthatwoulddisorienta mouse.Fishpaintedinnail-polish hues played hide and seek in the crevices; without warning, a pair of waving antennae appeared from a dark hole followed by the bodyofalarge crustacean. Ididn’t stick around to see its tail. Because of strong winds and
waves, the captain fiddled with the itinerary. Roatan was on its scheduled day (Tuesday) but now Cozumel fell on Wednesday, re- placing an at-sea day and elimi- nating an extra day of planning. But since Ihadonlymyself toplan and care for, Iwas unfazed. The port of Cozumel is a mad-
housemall that fits every cliche of Mexico, down to the donkey and sombreros. In a tiny, sweaty office on the second floor of the shop- ping complex, Alamo rents cars, and for $35, I drove off in a stan- dard two-door Chevy with a smudged interior and a missing radio. TheMayan ruins sit in the cen-
ter of the island, insulated from the chaos of town. For no fee, only a gratuity, anofficial guidenamed Ignacio (“call me Nacho”) agreed to showme around.He explained how the temple honored the god- dess of fertility, Ixchel, who re- sembled a Grimm’s hag but had the power of oysters, champagne andBarryWhite combined. “They were coming on their honeymoon to get pregnant,” said
DETAILS
Norwegian Cruise Line 866-234-7350
www.epic.ncl.com The line’s new ship, Epic, offers 128 studios for solo travelers. Cabins start at $999 per person, plus up to $175 in taxes and fees. Through early spring, the ship departs from Miami and alternates between two seven- night itineraries in the Caribbean: western (Costa Maya and Cozumel, Mexico; Roatan, Honduras) and eastern (St. Maarten, St. Thomas, Nassau in the Bahamas). In May, the ship leaves for Europe and spends the summer sailing around the Western Mediterranean.
Nacho, referring to the Mayans whotrekkedhereseekingthegod- dess’s blessing. Not much differ- ent from the pilgrimage made by modern newlyweds. As we veered toward the Cen-
tralPlaza,anothermoundof lime- stone rubble, Nacho picked up a piece of clay tile and handed it to me. But the gift camewith a stern warning: “You can take it, but if something happens to you at home, youhave to comebackhere with it,” he saidmysteriously. Whatmight happen, I asked? “Bad dreams, or youmight see
people. Ifyouarealone,youmight hear your name being called,” he answered. “In bed, they might shake you.” Sorry, but angry spir- its are not welcome in my bed- room. On the final leg of the tour, I
stood before an altar as Nacho described the human sacrifices that took place in the name of Ixchel. He referred me to Mel Gibson’s movie “Apocalypto” for additional information.
I’mnot surewhen the ideawas
first floated, but I know who re- leased it. Pete, over dinner or maybe on
the beach, had toldme that some folks from the first Epic sailing were considering the Barcelona voyage in the spring. Once out there, the concept of a solo cruise reunion took shape. After visiting the Ice Bar, a
frozen watering hole where the dress code is loaner insulated ponchos and black gloves, Claire brought up the 2011 trip. On our last evening, during a stroke-of- midnight game of bowling, it arose again. En route to Bliss nightclub, I ran into a solo travel- er from Connecticut who con- fessed that he had already put down a deposit for one of the studios. As the distance closed between
ocean and landfall, I tried to pic- ture us sailing together under blueMediterranean skies, friends embarking on a great adventure, even if we never learned each others’ last names. It could work, I reasoned, as
long aswe signed up as solo cruis- ers, traveled as a group and left our phantomdoubles at home.
sachsa@washpost.com
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