Losing my cruise virginity with Celestyal

Cruising had always been for other people. Mainly those who didn’t mind being seasick, while navigating dank corridors after dining on second-class fare, content with a complete lack of agreeable facilities and the stench of Old Spice. Almost like a rite of passage after life’s excitement was over.

At least, that’s the age-old cultural picture painted by legend. As anyone outside the travel scene will tell you, cruise ships typically radiate with a stuffy stereotype; where the only thing more wooden than each evening’s entertainment are the passengers.

As such, my youth had pushed me towards aviation – where technology and speed were the order of the day. From Concorde’s celebrated history to advanced aviation software, if it didn’t have wings or a jet engine, was it even worth paying attention to?

The original answer was no. However, destiny had other plans.

Having worked in the world of aviation my entire professional life, flying to a destination, staying in a hotel and then flying back was also how I enjoyed my holidays. I didn’t think there was any other way to travel. Adverts would circulate for booking a cruise, but I wouldn’t have been seen on one of those.

That was for those with pension books and a fear of change, right?

Such stigma was confronted head-on after an invitation to attend Celestyal’s Iconic Greek Islands cruise in the Aegean Sea. I wouldn’t be going alone, instead travelling with World of Cruising’s resident SEO boffin. But I was the cruise virgin of the trip. I was braced for an experience straight out of About Schmidt. I didn’t sleep the night before.

Yet, everything changed as we ascended the gangway onto Celestyal Discovery. A new realm opened up before me, almost as though I’d unlocked an achievement where the stereotypes and cobwebs gave way to reality. And the reality was – quite simply – that I had been missing out. I’d been missing out big time.

Ditching the stereotype

On a sunny, warm Greek morning as we walked along the dock, having witnessed my suitcase whisked away as though having an affair with the handler, I felt a sense of uncertainty. Questions swarmed across my mind, generating a sense of dread.

These thoughts of greasy buffets, negligent crew and befouled wipe-clean surfaces were quickly abandoned. The concept of a 2-star hotel at sea rapidly dissolved. It took around four seconds for the pessimistic mood to lift.

My eyes were greeted by a stunning cruise ship that radiated with a casual luxury mostly unseen in aviation. ‘’Maybe this won’t be so bad after all?!’’ I thought to myself. I could see my travel partner smirking as my elastic emotions made themselves apparent.

We made our way up the majestic staircase toward Celestyal Discovery’s bustling reception, where it quickly became clear that the staff stole the show. Impressive as the ship was, Celestyal’s crew provided endless smiles; far from the shallow and binary interactions expected.

We were met with warmth and empathy, where all our questions were answered and prompt directions were given to the nearest bar. It may only have been 11am, but as the cabins weren’t yet ready for us, a cheeky pre-lunch cocktail was just the ticket.

That level of hospitality set the tone for our cruise. Almost as though trained by Reginald Jeeves himself, Celestyal’s ambassadors consistently went above and beyond to ensure all guests were happy and fulfilled. As a second pre-lunch drink slid across the bar, I sensed a building acidity. The ship hadn’t yet disembarked for the Aegean islands, yet the scene felt akin to a prank.

Where had this vibe been all my life? Cruising suddenly felt like travel’s best-kept secret.

Why crowd onto a plane and suffer the indignity of Heathrow’s waiting lounge, when you could have this? That burning need to turn back the clock and ditch my tunnel-vision focus on aviation was only enhanced upon getting to our cabins.

My idea of cruise ship accommodation was, originally, beyond derogatory. The mind painted snapshots of frayed materials and crusty carpets. Like an Ibis budget hotel following a chemical fire – yet, again, I was proven wrong.

There were no hardened plastics. The air didn’t taste damp, and there was no lack of thoughtful touches. Once the door closed behind me, my cabin sprawled out towards the glittering oceanic shores of the Athens Riviera. A generously sized double bed, which felt like landing on a cloud, paired with a spacious en-suite shower, offered an opulent mantra that no aircraft can match.

Moreover, the cabin felt clean; a much nicer experience than most mid-tier hotels I've stayed in. Not to mention some of the airlines. There was no slobbery residue from the previous passenger nestled between the chairs here. Instead, the surfaces gleamed. The carpets bounced. The air-con blew ice cold.

Whirring open the balcony door provided a bonus level. As toasted winds ruffled my hair and cusped my head towards the glow of summer’s Mediterranean sun, the world suddenly appeared in flesh-and-blood technicolor. Whereas modern air travel often feels clinical and vapid, cruising injected a live dose of excitement into my veins. And we hadn’t even left port.

This was a different kind of excitement, where the feverish adrenaline of jolted takeoff was firmly replaced by the easy temperament of diminished tensity.

My travel companion resided next door, and as I glanced over the balcony partition, he had already settled down in the sunshine with a copy of Goldfinger. Looking up from the brim of his hat, sensing I was there, he put simply: “They will soon be serving afternoon tea. Scone?”

It was now time to face my second biggest cruise fear. The food.

Cruise food: Facing my fears

We’ve all been there, soaring at 35,000 feet – wedged between two strangers and a seat that reclines by precisely half an inch – when the microwaved airline mystery meal arrives in a lukewarm plastic tray. It’s questionably seasoned and accompanied by a bread roll that could moonlight as an industrial paperweight.

The late Sir Sean Connery turned away airline food with the quip: “I never eat anything I cannot identify”. The only ‘S’ with an ‘H’ on this occasion was followed by ‘it’.

Now picture this. Warm Aegean sun, tantalising wine and food to die for. Tomatoes bursting with flavour, olive oil made from actual olives, real meats from real animals and fruits vibrant enough to warrant their own passport. Suddenly, altitude lost its allure.

I won’t lie. This was not what I had been expecting. It wasn’t just food on offer, it was a Mediterranean love affair on a plate. Being on a ship, I had expected a small and limited buffet with most items ‘run out’ by the time we arrived. However, this was not the scene upon which we entered.

Being British, one cannot go five minutes without scones, cream, jam and tea. To my surprise, that was exactly the fare on offer. My introduction to Celestyal’s edible goldmine arrived in the form of elevated baked goods, but each subsequent dining session pushed the boat out further.

Breakfast offered a daily rotation of gorgeously fresh produce, whereas lunch redefined the concept of unprocessed loveliness. Dinner left me questioning whether I had been living life wrong, emphasised by a visit to Grill Seekers, Celestyal’s trademark steakhouse; a smoked blend of hardy New York ambience and chic European vibes.

Regardless of meal, each forkful identified segments of my tastebuds never before activated. Eating was no longer just a necessity. It was now an event to cherish. Guilt washed over me for even contemplating that onboard dining would be such a mess. For shame.

Would I rather nibble on shrink-wrapped regret at 500 miles an hour, or feast like Zeus at sea level? It’s not a hard call. Set me a place at Neptune’s pantry every time.

Sea sickness and logistical nightmares

If food remained my second-most hurdle, travel sickness was the ultimate level boss. As someone subject to motion sickness, and therefore highly anxious leading up to this cruise, departing port was the make-it-or-break-it moment for me. Would I survive a rocking, wobbly voyage? Was I destined to spend copious amounts of time with my head down the toilet?

Well, I didn’t feel a thing. My travel companion had offered no-end of reassurance, able to read my worries despite being unspoken between us. Celestyal Discovery was so calm and stable in the turbulent Aegean waters that, if I closed my eyes, I couldn’t tell the difference from being docked at port. A lovely surprise, contrary to the nightmares I had in the days leading up.

The first afternoon at sea didn’t require Bear Grylls-style survival gear. My terrors had been vanquished. Motion sickness never once raised its ugly head – turning meals and activities into poetry in motion, over the torment envisioned.

One final worry revolved around excursions. This was something I believed would be a logistical nightmare. How would they get so many passengers onto shore and back in the allotted time? From my experience, getting the 189 passengers both on and off a Boeing 737 required the diplomatic tact and patience of Mother Teresa. Let alone over 1,000 culture-hungry cruise-goers.

Well, as it turned out, this was undertaken smoothly and without delay. Each tender boat was filled with passengers using safety precautions which put us all at ease. As the cruise ship dropped anchor away from the shore, timeliness was key to ensuring nobody was left behind. Unless you were a keen swimmer, as the tenders provided the only transit to and from the Celestyal Discovery, you had to rub shoulders with everyone else.

This was nothing to worry about. Each journey was quick, entertaining and provided sea-level views of both the ship and the landscape. Within minutes we were at the shores of fantastic Mykonos. Less than 24 hours prior, I had been in drizzly London. Now, I was walking along the beach in one of the most iconic locations on earth.

This mantra of awe continued for the next three days, where my companion and I explored the realms of Santorini, Patmos and Kusadasi. Each island possessed a unique and timeless charm, where the day’s progress felt measured by bronzed tone of skin (or sunburn, in some cases) and yards of beer. Expert guides showcased the destination’s hidden treasures, leading to traditional dance lessons and Greek feasts held within local restaurants – all while the ship waited for us to return, before departing for the next adventure.

It really was busy, but ultimately blissful, bookended by the sheer magic of being aboard Discovery itself.

Would I go again?

Look. It wasn’t all plain sailing. I got carried away and enjoyed a few too many alchemy cocktails, which led into an intoxicated breakfast where the sight of food felt like an interrogation.

I found myself caught short on essential items (and a gift for the girlfriend), and had to raid the duty-free onboard shop. Not to mention my complete lack of knowledge regarding the Aegean Sea.

I also found myself confused about staircases between decks and would likely still be there, if my colleague hadn’t guided me along. Yet, you can hardly blame Celestyal for my indulgence in posh alcohol and an awful sense of direction. Nor my ignorance over branding everything south of Turin as ‘the Mediterranean’.

Yes, people rushed around for their portions at the buffet, but it never felt crowded or manic. There was a constant restocking of food, and although lines could become lengthy, it was pure gluttony that made the wait feel longer.

To answer your question: absolutely and without question, I would head out on another cruise. Doubly so if the cruise was hosted by Celestyal. Besides falling in love with their ship, this cruise opened a new form of travel. My horizons are no longer populated by wing and fuselage alone.

Am I having an affair against aviation? It sure looks like it.