Very good reading from SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE
THE SEVEN PLAGUES OF CRUISING
STEERING CLEAR OF MALADIES THAT PUT SHIP TRIPS IN TROUBLED WATERS
BY SPUD HILTON
SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE
Never
go on a cruise with statisticians. They know that, statistically
speaking, there are as many things that can go wrong with a voyage as
can go right. You might spill mango chutney on your tux shirt at the
captain's party. You might get an uneven tan. You might wake up bobbing
alone in the Caribbean Sea, trying to convince yourself those circling
fins belong to dolphins.
But the truth is that most problems on
cruise ships are relatively minor annoyances, especially if your
general disposition is positive and, um, flexible. There is, however,
the occasional horror story about Homeric tribulations, truly epic
bouts of sea sickness, cabins worthy of a Stephen King novel, demonic
zombie tablemates selling Amway products. They are the plagues, rare
but real, that can make you wish you'd spent the time and money at the
Grand Canyon. Or even New Jersey.
So in the spirit of being
more prepared than paranoid, here are our tips about how to cope with,
or better yet, avoid altogether, seven trip tragedies that, on a
personal level, can turn the Love Boat into the Lusitania faster than
you can say, "Honey, have you seen the bags?"
SEASICKNESS
Unless
you were the love child of a North Atlantic cod fisherman and a
mermaid, you've probably been queasy on choppy seas, if not on the
ship, probably during the 40-minute ride in a stifling, musty tender
boat.
Avoiding: Beating mal de mer begins long before you see
the sea. Pick the right itinerary, the Caribbean is usually calm,
Drake's Passage is a chunder-fest, and pick the right cabin.
"The
closer you are to the lowest level in the midship, the calmer it will
be," said Anne Campbell, co-founder of CruiseCritic.com and
CruiseMates.com. "The irony of cruising is the higher you are, the more
expensive it is, but also the more you'll feel the motion."
If
you have a history of getting queasy during the credits to Gilligan's
Island, see a doctor and ask about a scopolamine patch. Not that bad?
Go for over-the-counter Bonine or Dramamine, and start taking the
medicine well before you board. Both contain antihistamines (unless you
buy the nondrowsy formula), so if those knock you out, consider ginger,
tea, capsules, candy or crystallized, which works well for some people
without the zombifying effects of the drugs. Even Altoids has come up
with a ginger variety, although you might have to eat half a tin to get
enough of the stuff.
Hate ginger? Hyland's (see below) makes a
homeopathic remedy, a little white pill that dissolves under your
tongue. Wrist bands work for many, but read the directions twice;
pressure points can be elusive.
Coping: Go outside and look at
the horizon. Get fresh air. Call room service and ask for apples and
crackers to settle the stomach, according to Campbell, and don't lie
down. Sadly, cocktails will only make it worse.
Visit: Reed's
Ginger Brew, www.reedsgingerbrew.com/candy.html; Hyland's,
www.hylands.com; Sea-Band, www.sea-band.com/seaband.htm.
THE CABIN FROM HELL
So
your cabin is next to the Night-Shift Anvil-Dropping Office. The toilet
works fine, but in reverse. The sheets look like they were used to
bandage a fatal head wound. The cast of "Riverdance" practices in the
room above. To some people, the cabin isn't an important factor, but
you gotta sleep somewhere.
Avoiding: "Guaranteed category"
cabins are cheaper for a reason: They are the rooms that everyone who
had a choice didn't want. If quiet is important, pick a specific room.
Travel agents and Internet booking sites have floor plans for ships, so
look first at what's on your floor (elevators, laundry room, bomb
disposal), then look at the floors above and below for gallies,
nightclubs, engine rooms and theaters. Also, never take a maiden voyage
unless you crave the smell of wet paint, carpet fumes and 1,200
malfunctioning toilets.
Coping: Complain to the front desk
early and often, but be as polite as you are firm. (Don't be that guy
who thinks his ticket entitles him to treat everyone like the "hired
help.") The staff should move you to a suitable room or promise to deal
with the noise source. If they don't, repeat Step 1. Rooms like that
shouldn't exist, and cruise lines know it; they rely on you being too
timid to complain.
If it's noisy neighbors, let them know (again, be cool), and if it continues, let the staff know.
NOROVIRUS
Lately
it's been known as the scourge of the high seas, even though you're 10
times more likely to catch it on land. Getting it on land, however,
doesn't typically mean trying to enjoy a $200-a-day vacation within
crawling range of a suction-flush toilet.
Avoiding: Norovirus
covers a gang of nasty viruses with common symptoms: vomiting,
diarrhea, exhaustion and, sometimes, fever. There is no vaccine.
The
Centers for Disease Control says: Wash hands often, use alcohol-based
hand sanitizer as necessary and, for the love of God, stop shaking
hands. Really. Try bowing instead.
For peace of mind, you could
research which ships have sanitation issues ( www.cdc.gov/nceh/vsp),
but so far that hasn't been a good predictor of future outbreaks. Also,
be aware of where and what you eat while in port, you could end up as
Patient Zero for the next big outbreak.
Coping: Don't bother
with antibiotics: They're useless. The bug only lasts a couple of days,
so the best move is to drink lots of water and ride out the storm.
Short of giving you an IV for severe dehydration or pronouncing you
dead, the ship's doctor isn't going to be much help, either, so save
your money. Opinions differ on whether relieving the symptoms with
Imodium just prolongs the malady.
Also: If you're sick and the
staff knows it, you will be quarantined. In some cases, passengers have
been confined to cabins the entire week, despite feeling better (and,
presumably, being noncontagious) after a couple of days, and they did
not qualify for refunds.
LOST LUGGAGE
You and
your ship are chugging around the West Indies, but your Samsonites are
chugging around carousel No. 4 at Charles de Gaulle International?
Unless it's a Windjammer Barefoot ship or a nudist cruise, wearing the
same outfit all week, isn't really an option. What now?
Avoiding:
There are a boatload of reasons to fly to your departure city a day
before the ship leaves, and lost luggage is near the top of the list.
Allowing an extra day for your wayward bags to catch up, and
eliminating any chance of wearing hiking shorts on formal night, is
well worth the added expense. Also, make sure all luggage is labeled
and tagged (inside and out) and includes a copy of your itinerary,
especially if you don't have a nonstop flight.
Last line of defense: Pack extra underwear in your carry-on.
Coping:
When you book flights through the cruise line, missing bags become
their problem. And if it's the cruise line's problem, make sure the
staff is doing everything possible to fix it; keep track of the names
of the people helping you. (You might want to tip them later.)
Push
for a modest onboard credit to buy a few clothes and sundries in the
ship's shops. You might not get it, but it can't hurt to ask. If
there's a tux/gown rental shop onboard, it probably leases by the week.
Might as well get your money's worth out of it.
BAD WEATHER
Mother
Nature can be a harsh travel agent. She can turn a cruise in the
sunniest time of year into seven days of torrential downpour. Or fog.
Or oppressive humidity. Or flying monkeys.
Avoiding: No
guarantees, but research improves the odds. Start at
www.weatherbase.com and look up temperatures and rainy-day stats for
each port, especially the departure city. Go to Weather.com for
trip-planning features and a thorough section on hurricane season. (If
you can't pass up the bargains that time of year, build in a few extra
days at the end of the trip in case the ship can't return for a while.)
Coping: The captain can play hide-and-seek with storms, but
again, no guarantees. Bring games, an iPod, reading material and an
open mind about the agony and ecstasy of bingo. For warmer climates,
bring a lightweight, rainproof windbreaker, mostly to protect your gear
while in ports.
TERRIBLE TABLEMATES
The sweaty
guy in the magenta leisure suit wants to spend each dinner telling you
about his "close personal relationship" with
(Jesus/Allah/Buddha/Krishna/Tony Robbins). 'Nuff said.
Avoiding:
If you really don't want to chance it, book the trip early (six to nine
months) and request a table for two. If you're not deeply nostalgic
about traditional dining, consider booking a ship with alternative
restaurants.
Lastly, visit one of the online cruise community
boards ( CruiseCritic.com or CruiseMates.com) and find someone on the
same cruise. Exchange e-mail as a test for compatability before the
trip.
Coping: If the first night was difficult to endure,
find the maitre d' after dinner and ask to be moved (it's more common
than you think). Don't wait until the next night. If you feel you have
to make an excuse, be vague: You ran into old friends and they invited
you to their table.
Also: There's a chance you're the dreaded
Tablemate from Hell. Go easy on the religion and politics for a few
nights, until you know everyone's comfort level. Also, check the
conversation occasionally to make sure you're not the only one talking.
OVERINDULGENCE
It's
rare to hear the word "moderation" on a cruise ship, but when it comes
to food, alcohol and the sun, it's probably best to remember the cliche
about too much of a good thing.
Avoiding: Be smart. Live it up
and have a swell time, but remember that: a) drunk people fall off
ships, b) hangovers can put a real crimp in sightseeing and c) with
today's technology, you're never more than a few clicks from having an
exposed part of your anatomy show up on the Internet.
Save the
serious tanning for the last few days of the trip. You won't spend the
voyage in agony, and your color will still show when you return to
work. Better yet, use a self-tanning product before the trip to make
baking by the pool unnecessary.
Lastly, it's a cruise ship, not
a Soviet-era bread line. Are those four extra sausages really
necessary, or are you just trying to squeeze your money's worth out of
the trip? Are you going to feel like snorkeling if you're stuffed like
a Christmas goose?
Coping: Pack a first-aid kit with Pepto
Bismol, Alka-Seltzer, an aloe vera gel with a local anesthetic, and a
laminated card that says, "If found unconscious, leave me somewhere I
can't accidentally stagger over a railing and fall into the sea." This,
among other things, will save your family from a plague of its own: the
embarrassment of appearing on the Nancy Grace show.