Oosterdam Review day-by-day 01-09-2010 Mexico

[John_Yuma]

As a long time tropical disease guy, I can appreciate and sympathize with Rog's condition. The common mistake anywhere from the Mexican border South in the Western Hemisphere, most of the Orient, including South East Asia, India and Equatorial Africa is to consume something containing the local, untreated waters. By that I mean those lovely frozen beverages that may contain any and all forms of bacteria that may result in mild stomach upset to full blown dysentary. Bacteria does quite nicely in the frozen condition and may well be lurking in those ice cubes, solid or crushed. Whilst most people avoid drinking the local "water" they oft times forget the ice cube.

[debkaysmith]

We've been there before with Sir Montezuma visiting overnight after enjoying the local cuisine. Hopefully your partner will be feeling well soon so we can hear a bit more about your cruise. Take care.

[JamesEM]

I will be sailing on the Oosterdam in April, and find 1975 comments interesting since this will be my first cruise on Holland.

[stray]

I think sneer is a good word to describe 1975's approach to the review. I am uncomfortable with people who "sneer" at others. I thoroughly enjoy reviews that give an op's opinions of the positives and negatives of a cruise, but personally would prefer there be no snide remarks.

[Zappa Fan]

Geez... I want to hear more from '75! Love his stuff! :)

[lucky1ns]

I priced the 11 day Sea of Cortez cruise offerred by Azmara yesterday and it was exactly 3 times the cost of the HAL version.

 

These guys must cruise for free so they dont know the difference.

 

At 40 cents a minute I doubt he is even reading the repsonses.

 

Wont he be surprised when he gets home.

[sdschwrt]

Since you are broadcasting live, be sure to visit Te Amo Lucy restaurant in the Centro Historico in Mazatlan. Lovely historic restoration of this area, lots of cafes and shops and this wonderfully quirky restaurant with an especially delicious menu. It is on Av Constituion a few blocks off the serene plazeula. We were just there and loved this whole part of town and especially this restaurant. American ex-pat lawyer runs the place, married to an excellent Mexico City chef. Very casual, but the cuisine is very refined. You will enjoy if this is what you want a do it yourself at this port stop.

 

The whole revival of this town started with the Ortega Opera House and a young Mexico City architect who could see the treasure this part of town had to offer, once it got cleaned up. And he and they are doing it. He was at the Opera House gift shop to talk about his vision and share his artistic renderings of the progress. The picture history of the place upstairs tells the story of the Mexican Nightingale diva Ortega who the French deemed too ugly to sing on their stages, but who kept the rest of the world enthralled with her performances. She and most of her entourage died of cholera right next door the day before her trimumphant return performance to Mazatlan. Lots of intriguing history in this small town.

 

 

 

Sorry about your friend being down today. Maybe it was the Haut Cuisine at .......... El Shrimp Bucket in Mazatlan. Puhleeze. I tried to steer you in the right direction in Mazatlan, but you are sooooooo stubborn you wouldn't listen.

 

SwissMyst has been rather opinionated on this thread going so far as to blame the posters illness on their being too stubborn to eat at the Mazatlan restaurant she is so fond of. I have spent over 20 weeks in Mazatlan and her recommended restaurant as well as the shrimp bucket are among the many excellent and safe restaurants within the downtown area. Mazatlan is the home of the Mexican shrimp fleet and as the OP stated it is the oldest restaurant in town and clearly as worthy of a visit as the more eclectic upscale restaurants in the Plaza Machado one of which SwissMyst praises a number of times in this thread. Personally, I have eaten at neither so I don't have a dog in this fight.

 

Unfortunately, SwissMyst's credibility regarding Mazatlan and it history is highly questionable for the following reasons

1. The opera house in the Plaza Machado is the Angela Peralta Theater not as stated in her post the Ortega Opera house.

2. Angela Peralta arrived in Mazatlan and before she could perform at the opera house she and her entourage died of yellow fever, a mosquito born virus, rather than cholera, a gastrointestinal infection caused by a microbe, vibrio.

 

I am sure SwissMyst does not intentionally try to steer people in the wrong direction. However, based on the factual misinformation she has provided on the Historic Center of Mazatlan, I would take her subjective advice regarding restaurants and cruise line quality with a large helping of salt

[SwissMyst]

Thanks for the corrections regarding the names and diseases in Mazatlan. I should have checked. Regardless, I still recommend visiting this lovely opera house and reading the quite tragic story of their favorite historic diva.

 

And trying this wonderful restaurant "Te Amo Lucy" which is its correct name and street location. Both suggestions for those looking to do Mazatlan on their own remain high on my list and hopefully will inspire others to also explore the Centro Historico on their own as well.

 

Though others may still find this area "yuk" as reported by a poster already. I thought it was a very lovely historic restoration in progress, and the facts of the matter do deserve accuracy. Thank you for keeping others from going on a wild goose chase looking for my mis-named attractions. Words matter.

[SwissMyst]

I am sure SwissMyst does not intentionally try to steer people in the wrong direction. However, based on the factual misinformation she has provided on the Historic Center of Mazatlan, I would take her subjective advice regarding restaurants and cruise line quality with a large helping of salt

 

You got that one right too. Indeed, why should anyone make or break their vacation choices based upon some anonymous poster's opinions.

[Cruisers1975]

Day Seven – At Sea

 

 

Hey! I actually got to see the clock run backwards last night! An unusual grinding noise not emanating from Rog woke me up at 4:45 this morning, and I was able to watch the wall clock wind backwards to 3:45. Now that is something I’ve never seen on Crystal!

 

Rog is feeling somewhat better but the quarantine continues, along with a thirst that apparently cannot be abated until the bars open at 10:00AM because – believe it or not – room service has run out of water. A visit to the Medical Centre, however, sends me back with more Gatoraid, stronger meds, and a (free!) bottle of water, so all is well. Full marks to the medical staff. Food Services fails again.

 

Complimentary (for DVS-Better People) lunch at Pinnacle Grill will be replaced by Nursa Paula’s prescribed diet of bananas and whole-wheat toast for my patient. I’ll find that pizza station again.

 

Confined as we are (actually, as he is, for I am free to roam, providing I remember to wash my hands properly), it may be time to assess this stateroom DSV-4180 more critically. The ride is bumpier than many would appreciate. The back spray from the ocean while at sea occasionally renders the veranda uninviting. (Tip: bring the cushions inside at night, so you can swab down the table and still enjoy your breakfast on the veranda in the morning.) The proximity to the engines means there is a constant hum of course, but also an uninterrupted rattling of walls, grilles, fixtures, fridge contents, hangers, glasses, door. Room service trays are not to be placed outside your door in the hall, so the only way to hide the rattling china is to leave them on the veranda. Or call room service and wait another 30 minutes.

 

While these may drive other passengers to distraction, they do not bother us, and all in all I’m happy that, especially with the quarantine, we do have the luxury of space both inside and out, and the solicitous concierge from the Neptune Lounge.

 

One last task: re-packing the way-too-many-clothes that we brought (of course) plus the motherlode we struck at the Brooks Brothers Outlet Store in San Diego.

 

And now back to my Rosetta Stone. Is it coincidental that today’s lessons discuss the several ways to say “me duele el estomago”?

 

Day Eight – Disembarkation

 

 

Rog still feeling queezy and weak. I’ve practically given up on Room Service, but we ordered some anyway, and also put in another call asking to see the Real Doctor before we leave the ship. The idea of being pushed down the gangway and left to our defenses in a foreign land is not very appealing, when you really don’t know what the problem is.

 

It’s been a rough night, but I have to present myself, along with all other non-US citizens aboard, to the US Customs Board of Enquiry that will be held in the Vista Lounge at 6:30AM. There are about 300 of us. I am not the only one who voiced a suggestion that some coffee service would have been nice. Nada. (That’s Spanish for “dick on a stick.”)

 

The non-natives were getting restless. Especially the children among them. I don’t undestand this procedure; how is a two-year-old supposed to react?

 

After 45 minutes, the Customs Official were paraded in to take four of the twelve positions that have been set up for them, and, family by family, we are allowed to approach. I have no idea what questions they were asking, because I started first, asking what to do about Rog who was quarantined in his room. A supervisor was summoned, and told me that he would be flagged and pulled aside as he leaves. My own papers were stamped and I was released on my own recognizance.

 

I returned to our stateroom to find no room service, no doctor, and a weak husband. I left immediately for the Lido Trough, where finally (and this was no easy task), I got someone to give me a piece of toast, which was prescribed by the nurse. She also said he should have a banana, but there were none of them left. Last on my list was hot tea.

 

This is the last straw to an already declining level of food service on this ship. I have watched the self service beverage area disintegrate since we came aboard. First, the ice machine failed to operate, and was replaced with the rather unsanitary solution of a bin of crushed ice and a scoop. The juice dispensor was either empty or clogged more times than not. The glasses are too small, anyway – 6 ounces is not an Iced Tea glass. And last night as I tried to get coffee, I was told by a staff member getting tea for himself that it was “not ready.” I apparently had to wait for some light to come on. How long, I asked? “I’ve no idea. I never actually timed it,” he said as he turned and walked away.

 

But the last straw was this morning. There was coffee and hot water, but no cups. Not that that should be a problem, but the staff reaction was abominable. As half a dozen of us accumulated, some even putting a spash of coffee into a water tumbler, staff came and went totally uncaring. I personally asked four of them, about 3 minutes apart, for cups. Each one looked at me vacantly, and walked away. One took the empty tray with him, so I really thought he understood.

 

After three or four more minutes, and a growing crowd of passengers, I finally saw among the ignoring staff a woman whom I assumed to be of European extraction, and, victim of sterotyping that I am, therefore someone who would understand English.

 

She did, but the response was unbelievable. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “So? What do you want me to do about it?” I said, if there are no cups here, is there somewhere else I can get one? “At the other end,” she snapped, and disappeared.

 

I really had never known there was “another end” with another beverage station, but there it was, stocked with cups. Another staff member, however, was filling caraffes, three of them from the only hot water spigot. By now, I’m tired of waiting for staff and asked if I could cut in, get a cup, and run back to the stateroom, now with cold toast of course.

 

It’s now 8AM, the time that we are supposed to be leaving the ship by private escort, but we’re not going anywhere till we see the doctor. He arrives, at the same time as our escort off the ship, and our room service order. Rog eats the prescribed but cold toast as the doctor tells him he shouldn’t eat or drink anything he can’t see through. Nor should he have been taking the prescribed Immodium or the stronger narcotic pills that the nurse provided, apparently.

 

The doctor tells him that his object is to make sure he doesn’t infect anyone else, and he decides the ship is safe so Rog can, and must, leave now.

 

Our bags have already gone, and our escort, who doesn’t speak two words of English, stands there pointing and saying “Gangway. Gangway.” He is ultimately persuaded to lead, rather than follow, to a destination we don’t know. There, a perfectly wonderful young lady walks us through the customs process, tells us her union won’t allow her to touch our luggage, reminds us that the one advantage to all this is that we get to leave the ship first, and directs us to a waiting taxi.

 

And so, it’s over.

 

 

 

Come back soon for the dénouement. That's when the tongue comes out of the cheek and the gloves come off the fists...

[RuthC]

Come back soon for the dénouement. That's when the tongue comes out of the cheek and the gloves come off the fists...

Ooooo. Sounds like fun. Let the games begin. :D

[quartetman]

Day Seven – At Sea

 

 

Hey! I actually got to see the clock run backwards last night! An unusual grinding noise not emanating from Rog woke me up at 4:45 this morning, and I was able to watch the wall clock wind backwards to 3:45. Now that is something I’ve never seen on Crystal!

 

Rog is feeling somewhat better but the quarantine continues, along with a thirst that apparently cannot be abated until the bars open at 10:00AM because – believe it or not – room service has run out of water. A visit to the Medical Centre, however, sends me back with more Gatoraid, stronger meds, and a (free!) bottle of water, so all is well. Full marks to the medical staff. Food Services fails again.

 

Complimentary (for DVS-Better People) lunch at Pinnacle Grill will be replaced by Nursa Paula’s prescribed diet of bananas and whole-wheat toast for my patient. I’ll find that pizza station again.

 

Confined as we are (actually, as he is, for I am free to roam, providing I remember to wash my hands properly), it may be time to assess this stateroom DSV-4180 more critically. The ride is bumpier than many would appreciate. The back spray from the ocean while at sea occasionally renders the veranda uninviting. (Tip: bring the cushions inside at night, so you can swab down the table and still enjoy your breakfast on the veranda in the morning.) The proximity to the engines means there is a constant hum of course, but also an uninterrupted rattling of walls, grilles, fixtures, fridge contents, hangers, glasses, door. Room service trays are not to be placed outside your door in the hall, so the only way to hide the rattling china is to leave them on the veranda. Or call room service and wait another 30 minutes.

 

While these may drive other passengers to distraction, they do not bother us, and all in all I’m happy that, especially with the quarantine, we do have the luxury of space both inside and out, and the solicitous concierge from the Neptune Lounge.

 

One last task: re-packing the way-too-many-clothes that we brought (of course) plus the motherlode we struck at the Brooks Brothers Outlet Store in San Diego.

 

And now back to my Rosetta Stone. Is it coincidental that today’s lessons discuss the several ways to say “me duele el estomago”?

 

Day Eight – Disembarkation

 

 

Rog still feeling queezy and weak. I’ve practically given up on Room Service, but we ordered some anyway, and also put in another call asking to see the Real Doctor before we leave the ship. The idea of being pushed down the gangway and left to our defenses in a foreign land is not very appealing, when you really don’t know what the problem is.

 

It’s been a rough night, but I have to present myself, along with all other non-US citizens aboard, to the US Customs Board of Enquiry that will be held in the Vista Lounge at 6:30AM. There are about 300 of us. I am not the only one who voiced a suggestion that some coffee service would have been nice. Nada. (That’s Spanish for “dick on a stick.”)

 

The non-natives were getting restless. Especially the children among them. I don’t undestand this procedure; how is a two-year-old supposed to react?

 

After 45 minutes, the Customs Official were paraded in to take four of the twelve positions that have been set up for them, and, family by family, we are allowed to approach. I have no idea what questions they were asking, because I started first, asking what to do about Rog who was quarantined in his room. A supervisor was summoned, and told me that he would be flagged and pulled aside as he leaves. My own papers were stamped and I was released on my own recognizance.

 

I returned to our stateroom to find no room service, no doctor, and a weak husband. I left immediately for the Lido Trough, where finally (and this was no easy task), I got someone to give me a piece of toast, which was prescribed by the nurse. She also said he should have a banana, but there were none of them left. Last on my list was hot tea.

 

This is the last straw to an already declining level of food service on this ship. I have watched the self service beverage area disintegrate since we came aboard. First, the ice machine failed to operate, and was replaced with the rather unsanitary solution of a bin of crushed ice and a scoop. The juice dispensor was either empty or clogged more times than not. The glasses are too small, anyway – 6 ounces is not an Iced Tea glass. And last night as I tried to get coffee, I was told by a staff member getting tea for himself that it was “not ready.” I apparently had to wait for some light to come on. How long, I asked? “I’ve no idea. I never actually timed it,” he said as he turned and walked away.

 

But the last straw was this morning. There was coffee and hot water, but no cups. Not that that should be a problem, but the staff reaction was abominable. As half a dozen of us accumulated, some even putting a spash of coffee into a water tumbler, staff came and went totally uncaring. I personally asked four of them, about 3 minutes apart, for cups. Each one looked at me vacantly, and walked away. One took the empty tray with him, so I really thought he understood.

 

After three or four more minutes, and a growing crowd of passengers, I finally saw among the ignoring staff a woman whom I assumed to be of European extraction, and, victim of sterotyping that I am, therefore someone who would understand English.

 

She did, but the response was unbelievable. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “So? What do you want me to do about it?” I said, if there are no cups here, is there somewhere else I can get one? “At the other end,” she snapped, and disappeared.

 

I really had never known there was “another end” with another beverage station, but there it was, stocked with cups. Another staff member, however, was filling caraffes, three of them from the only hot water spigot. By now, I’m tired of waiting for staff and asked if I could cut in, get a cup, and run back to the stateroom, now with cold toast of course.

 

It’s now 8AM, the time that we are supposed to be leaving the ship by private escort, but we’re not going anywhere till we see the doctor. He arrives, at the same time as our escort off the ship, and our room service order. Rog eats the prescribed but cold toast as the doctor tells him he shouldn’t eat or drink anything he can’t see through. Nor should he have been taking the prescribed Immodium or the stronger narcotic pills that the nurse provided, apparently.

 

The doctor tells him that his object is to make sure he doesn’t infect anyone else, and he decides the ship is safe so Rog can, and must, leave now.

 

Our bags have already gone, and our escort, who doesn’t speak two words of English, stands there pointing and saying “Gangway. Gangway.” He is ultimately persuaded to lead, rather than follow, to a destination we don’t know. There, a perfectly wonderful young lady walks us through the customs process, tells us her union won’t allow her to touch our luggage, reminds us that the one advantage to all this is that we get to leave the ship first, and directs us to a waiting taxi.

 

And so, it’s over.

 

 

 

Come back soon for the dénouement. That's when the tongue comes out of the cheek and the gloves come off the fists...

1975,What nights were formal.We'll be on the Oosterdam in April.

 

Rick & Harriet

[brucory]

All of the staff on the Oosterdam in front of house speak English. When English is a second language for anyone, it may require a little more time. As your tolerance levels seem to hover at slim to none, it is believable that you were not able to communicate effectively with staff on the ship!

 

If your tone to them was as ghastly as your manner in having written this garbage, it is no surprise that they grunted at you, or chose to ignore you.

 

As some others have said, this thread started as marginally amusing, but has turned into a snide and mean condescending blurt!!!

 

Hopefully other cruise lines will suit your needs better than the one you chose and got a super deal for - your own words!!!

[Cruisers1975]

I think there were two nights designated as formal. Both were nights at sea (of the three total). It doesn't mean formal, however. It suggests that gentlemen wear jackets; women can get away with anything better than a swimsuit.

 

I just realized why I saw that one fellow in his bathrobe and flip-flops. It was "formal" night and he was protesting. (I swear it wasn't me!). I've just heard from a colleague about a fellow at dinner on "formal night" on Princess (the mind boggles), wearing his pajamas as a protest.

 

You can always step around them, as the common trough is always casual, every night, as are the pool areas.

 

I have nothing against formal nights, in fact would like to buy a dinner jacket just for these occassions. However, sadly, I think they are on the way out, fast, on all lines - even the top. It used to be self-policing, but today's self-empowered passengers don't have sufficient respect for other passengers, and it shouldn't be the cruise line's responsibility to enforce something like that on someone's vacation.

[marysb]

The formal nights were on the first sea day(sunday) and on the Cabo day ( Thurs).

Most people we saw were dressed up (or gave it some effort). Not a lot of tuxes. Maybe more cocktail part-like than formal.

[Cruisers1975]

And Finally

 

 

Back again, with lots of time to just review this cruise. I am reminded that it’s a value-priced Mexican junket and I shouldn’t judge a line by its passengers. Okay, so I’ll ignore the buffoons on this crate, including the man I saw in the Lido Trough line last night in flip-flops and his bathrobe. Or the couple wandering around with balloon art on their heads. Or the old feller that walks around with his dog on a leash (don’t tell me that a miniature boxer is a “working dog”; and don’t tell me that this man needs help navigating, either). Or last night, the guy in line in front of me (and WHY? behind six officers) at the Lido Trough, playing his harmonica while he waited for his supper.

 

But I can and will judge a line by its staff, service levels, food, cleanliness, facilities and entertainment.

 

The staff are universally friendly and eager to help (especially in the Neptune Lounge). But hollering down hallways, chattering away with colleagues in foreign languages, using guest elevators to transport laundry and room service carts, smoking in public areas and wearing tattered uniforms are not hallmarks of distinction. I give them a C-minus.

 

Service levels in the dining room are next to non-existent. My sister’s experience last week was similar. A fellow diner, so excited about an upcoming Monster Truck Rally that his wild gesticulations knocked her $10 glass of wine into another diner’s plate, went entirely unnoticed and uncorrected by waiters. Requests for coffee or tea are filled about 50% of the time. Exceptions for the premium-priced Pinnacle Grill, but even here, the staff are correct, but not engaging. Here’s the meat – pick one. Please. The wine steward is downright embarrassing by “inviting” you to wine tastings and special dinners, without revealing the price. A baldfaced D here, saved from an outright F by the Neptune staff.

 

Food, again with the exception of the Pinnacle Grill and the oft-resorted-to pizza, is a disappointment, and never the “occasion” that one expects while cruising. The trough, and their new trayless policy and the juggling that results, is an insult to human dignity. The dining room is more akin to a Chinese restaurant than a great cruise line. Every entrée and vegetable was overcooked. Some may commend meat “so tender it falls off the bone”: but do they think we all are toothless octogenarians?

 

Room Service food is worse. Ordered in advance, it arrives early. Ordered on the spot and it arrives at least an hour later. Coffee delivered in heat-transferring pots instead of insulated carafes is quickly cool, soups are cold, toast is stone cold, and presentation is non-existent. Why be polite about these things? If you’ve never had better, then perhaps you are impressed by a club sandwich that has no crunch, or French Onion Soup that is such a disgrace to the onion I can only imagine how the French feel about it. Fortunately, we had access to the Neptune Lounge, where the espressos, lattes and cappuccinos were made on the spot, delicious, hot and free. Food gets a D and that is not for Delicious.

 

And cleanliness? When was the last time you checked into a hotel or ship and asked the steward to clean the strawberry jam off the tables and chairs? And while staff are forever polishing the brasswork in common areas, they fail to remove the polish from the underside. Not a nice tactile encounter.

 

 

I am seriously concerned for the health of the next occupants of DVS-4180. If their housekeeping prior to our arrival was that sloppy, I wonder what they’ll do, post-quarantine?

 

The shower drain is probably also clogged with 7 years of hair; only that would explain why it won’t drain fast enough. You have to turn it on/off serveral times during a shower to prevent an overflow. Sure saves on water, though!s

 

Elevators have ballpoint pen on the leatherette walls and scratches on the brass surfaces around the deck buttons. Seating areas too precious for words are roped off as unsafe, while scarce seating around the Lido Trough is roped off for “Ship’s Officer and Staff Only.”

 

Another deterrent to the image of cleanliness is the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke. It’s allowed in the casino, and I don’t know where else, but the casino is indoors and from there, it travels everywhere. Smoking on verandas is downright dangerous! Updrafts do bad things with cinders. What else would explain the holes in the outer lining of our draperies? Smoking neighbours pollute your own veranda; pot smoking neighbours even more so. To HAL’s credit, our checkout questionnaire asks if we would ever cruise with them again if they outlawed smoking entirely. That presumes that smoking is the only deciding factor, however, so while asking is commendable, it’s a question I can’t answer. To HAL’s discredit, there was no encouragement to turn in the questionnaires, either. (On Azamara last trip, for example, they were begging for them constantly and even had a collection drop box at the gangway as you left the ship.)

 

A last minute retraction on the sticky handrails throughout: That’s not un-removed polish compound. It’s a permanent strip along the undersides of the railings to improve your grip. Still feels yucky, but now at least I understand it, and HAL’s demographic probably appreciates it.

 

Cleanliness? C-plus.

 

As for the facilities, the Deluxe Veranda Stateroom is great. It’s about 5 years past its best-by date, crying for a reno, but it’s large and bright (bright is a key word here; a running joke is that it’s the hotel industry that keeps the 40-watt lightbulb industry alive), with piles of storage space we’ve never even explored. The bed really is wonderful, the linen and piles of pillows very inviting. The wall clock, in addition to providing entertainment at each time zone change, is handy, and rare on other lines. The bar, even if it does cost $4 for a bottle of water, is handy and the fridge allows you to stock it with your own product (donchu just hate those hotels that automatically add anything you touch to your room account?). In fact, the ability to bring aboard unlimited wine and champagne at embarkation is appreciated (note: no beer or liquor).

 

The luxury of shower plus whirlpool tub, and two basins, is top drawer. The bottles of quality Elemis amenities, although smaller than on other lines, are replenished freely. The stained leather chairs, well, they’ve seen better seas. And I am a little tired of listening to Stateroom 4178’s television programing. Fortunately, they are usually early to bed.

 

Some of the many public bar areas are very fresh and inviting: Pinnacle Bar, Ocean Bar, Crow’s Nest for example. Others are breath-holdingly disgusting: the Sports Bar, for example.

 

I don’t know if this belongs under Food, or Service or Facitilities, but I was angered again last night by being unable to find a place to sit down in the Lido Trough. Even my own whale-watching spot by the Ice Cream Station had a sign: Dinner for Ships Officer and Staff. The only thing acceptable about that, is that they spelled dinner correctly. I did reach into the forbidden zone to grab a napkin/implements bundle, and retreated to my DVS to dine. (The beef tenderloin was NOT overcooked by the way and the Nurse Paula-prescribed rice for Rog was quite acceptable, as well.) Juggling two plates and a cup of hot water without a tray (another new policy?) meant I’d have to go back for a glass of iced tea. Not worth it.

 

Rog is still raving about the gym, his favourite place on the ship. I’ll take his word for it.

 

The Internet service was consistently excellent, as well.

 

We can’t say enough about the staff and services of the Neptune Lounge, and most especially Essay, but they, and the Very Special People whom they serve, deserve a better location, with windows for example.

 

And mixed kudos also to the Medical Staff, for their attentions and ministrations. It’s not easy to be ill, and I know their chief concern is to prevent the spread, not heal the sick, but they are doing their best with both. One would think, however, that for what is probably their second-most popular complaint (after seasickness), they would have the procedure down pat, and consistently: is it Imodium or not? Is it toast or consommé? I suppose it doesn’t really matter as long as the patient is quarantined and the rest of the passengers are safe.

 

So, for facilities, and by this I include the DVS and the Neptune Lounge, a strong B-plus.

 

The entertainment and enrichment programs are also lacking, in my own very personal estimation. We went to only the first of the Big Shows, and it was a boring bust. Others may have been better; we’ll never know. A quick peek into the Magician and the Final Night suggested they might just be better. Too bad their preamble was such a turn-off. However, turn-off or not, every seat was filled with a head of grey.

 

Scheduling is another issue: what unthinking “straight” would schedule the only GLBT (Gay-Lesbian-Bi-Trans) meeting at the same time as Cocktail and Martini Mixology? Any why call it by the ugly GLBT? Other ships call it “Friends of Dorothy” – much nicer. And why, oh why, at 4:30 pm in the Library? Clearly, Dorothy and her friends meet in martini bar at 10:00pm; it’s the Friends of Bill W who meet in the library at 4:30!

 

And while I don’t expect to learn a foreign language on a seven-day cruise, this was a cruise to Mexico, with only two Spanish classes, and they were taught by an English woman who told us up front she wasn't going to teach Mexican/Latin American Spanish, but rather Castillian. Wrong cruise, Pauline!

 

 

Trivia, always fun and a sure way to engender interaction among guests, was limited to music themes (and one on Mexico). But to be sure, if you wanted the ubiquitous Napkin Folding session, it was there.

 

One of the responsibilities of the Activities Department that was greatly appreciated was the separation of children from child-free areas, and keeping them active and content. The kids on this cruise were one thing that was not a problem.

 

On board communications, a.k.a. the Daily Program, was as interesting as its name. While other lines publish stories about the port of the day, and feature one or more of the ship’s officers and departments, this one had little to offer other than a reminder of which dress code we will all ignore, and a list of hours for the five food options and eleven drinking holes. One interesting plus was the daily delivery of the full evening menu from the Vista Restaurant, enticing you to give it one more chance. We also received a condensed selection of articles from the New York Times, and, as Canadians, a special four-pager of Canadian news as well. So, Entertainment & Communications, another C.

 

We only did one shore excursion, so we’ll not pass judgement in general, other than to comment that our guide, Mel, was great. Excellent English, great sense of humour, knowledgeable and always there. And the obligatory, time-wasting 45-minute stop at the souvenir shop was mercifully amid many more interesting alternative things to see, and drink.

 

 

So, I think that probably ends the review. I’m sure that will come with relief to at least one CH reader. For those interested, here is a link to the photos:

 

http://*******.com/yfhwusj (You'll have to replace the stars with the single word "tiny url" no space)

 

Will we be back? Perhaps. It remains an unbeatable value. But only in a Deluxe Veranda Suite or better. (”I heart my Neptune Lounge concierge!”)

 

Not right away, however.

 

And now, purely for our own records:

 

Captain (the youngest we’ve encountered, at 47, marital status undetermined) is Argen van der Loo; Hotel manager Craig Oakes, Cruise Director Patti Honacki. The ship is 82,000 tons, with 2037 guests and 791 crew, and we have travelled 2176 NM or 2502 statue miles, at an average speed of 17.54 knots.

 

And now a few words from The Professional

 

 

(As you know, the above was written by Nameless Me, and I am not the professional. As I said on Day Two, I’m just here for the ride, and the comments above were my personal interpretation of this journey. The travel professional, with 32 years experience, is Roger, and – recovering nicely at home now, thank you - the following is Roger’s assessment)

 

Holland America is a very old and respected line, and I have personally been selling it quite successfully to happy clients for over 20 years. However, I’ve never had the opportunity to actually sail with HAL until this cruise. And on this cruise, I certainly felt the standards of service delivery, dining and cleanliness were not as I had been led to believe by clients, friends, family and by HAL’s own advertising and personal presentations.

 

Maybe I did expect too much and my disappointment is misplaced. Nonetheless, I was disappointed. In the realm of “Premium” cruise lines, I no longer know where to rank Holland America anymore. I am hopeful that this experience was just this ship category, Vista Class. As one insightful poster comments, service on the ms Amsterdam, for example, is more of the Old World style I might have been expecting.

 

The Internet can be a dangerous information resource for travel (or anything else), but since so many travellers want it and use it, it will continue to be a resource; it’s just important to sift out the good from the bad. Our review is not intended to be taken as gospel: our tongue-in-cheek comments of OUR experiences should not stop anyone from taking a HAL cruise.

 

And as we have repeated several times in this review, we are always mindful of the value. That’s as important to us as to anyone else. Contrary to another suggestion here, we have never taken a free cruise – and as much as we would love to live on Crystal or Seabourn or even The World for that matter, it just isn’t going to happen. But we have experienced the service levels of those lines, and of Celebrity and Azamara and Oceania and RCCL and Star Clippers and the list goes on, and each of them delivered what they promised and sometimes a little more. HAL, on this cruise at least, did not.

 

Would I sail with Holland America again? Perhaps, on the Amsterdam.

 

Will I continue to sell Holland America to my clients? Certainly, but with a very strong caveat. If they are already dedicated Mariners (HAL’s loyalty program), then they will know what they are getting. I’ll suggest they try other lines, too, lest they remain naively blind to what else is out there.

 

But personal brand loyalty is very hard to change, and seldom worth the effort, as is abundantly evident on this board. When we spend a few thousand dollars on a holiday, we don’t want to admit it was misspent, even to ourselves. Especially to ourselves.

 

Nowhere is that more apparent than on boards such as Cruise Critic. We have seen this before (we own and moderate three other boards on entirely different subjects): some posters begin to feel, by virtue of their seniority and their omnipresence and frequency of their posts, that they own that board, or at least that forum. They feel a need to step in and “translate” everyone else’s posts, as if other readers cannot make their own decisions whether something is valid, or funny, or snide.

 

But that is, indeed, what makes boards like this fun. The main storyline is the plot; the banter and ruffled feathers along the way is the subplot that makes it all the more interesting to read the next chapter.

 

But for us, this is the last chapter. At least until the next cruise!

 

Bon voyage, everyone! It’s been fun!

[RuthC]

Thank you for your final report. You called it as you saw it, and one cannot ask for more. I believe your measurement standards are rather strict, but they are yours to set for your cruise.

It's apparent that HAL is not the line for you. Perhaps someday you will try a different HAL ship, with a different itinerary, and it will be a totally different, pleasurable, experience. It happens.

In any case, I wish you a future of many wonderful cruises.

[DAllenTCY]

Porters at the pier belong to the International Longshoremen and Warehousemen Union. They are paid to help with luggage, and are readily available. However, they will expect a tip if you request assistance. Holland America shoreside staff are not allowed to help with luggage.

David

[AirGorilla]

Gentlemen, thanks again!! I very much appreciate the hours you spent on your posts. You both write well, and in an entertaining style.

 

I echo what Ruth C wrote above -- thanks for calling things as you saw them.

 

As someone with some gray up there (gray hair, not gray matter), who has five HAL cruises to his credit, and 26 overall, I give your review an A!!!

 

Come back and see us sometime!!

 

AG

[vcdarty]

for your clever, honest, grammatical (!), and highly personal comments. Much obliged to you, and also to the snotty contra-comments that made this thread such a jolly read. We can judge for ourselves what to value here and what to happily discard/ignore.

 

We've recently done two cruises on Veendam, a smaller ship, and found our experience quite different from yours--decent food, good service, and we'd probably do it again sometime. Not perfect, but good value. Our expectations were in line with our outlay of $$$. You might wish to try one of the S-class ships, or even the Prinsendam about which we hear good things. (DW did have a nightmare HAL experience--many, many years ago on a Rotterdam-NYC crossing in mid-winter. Not HAL's fault. Just old Poseidon having a bit of fun with the North Atlantic.)

 

Again, gracias for the good stuff you posted. Though I can't access the pix. What might I be doing wrong? And though this mayn't be quite kosher, I'd like Rog's address. For professional reasons. :rolleyes:

[lucky1ns]

Water on your Veranda?

 

Ghastly!

[callmedeb]

Thank you for taking me along on this adventure. RuthC said it better than I ever could.

 

May your future travels bring you joy.

 

Cheers,

 

Deb

[Boatdrill]

 

 

 

Would I sail with Holland America again? Perhaps, on the Amsterdam.

 

 

 

YESSSSS !!!! :)

 

After you sail on that ship, I'd love to hear your thoughts, both positive and negative.

[johnlcruise]

And Finally

 

 

The Internet can be a dangerous information resource for travel (or anything else), but since so many travellers want it and use it, it will continue to be a resource; it’s just important to sift out the good from the bad. Our review is not intended to be taken as gospel: our tongue-in-cheek comments of OUR experiences should not stop anyone from taking a HAL cruise.

 

Some posters begin to feel, by virtue of their seniority and their omnipresence and frequency of their posts, that they own that board, or at least that forum. They feel a need to step in and “translate” everyone else’s posts, as if other readers cannot make their own decisions whether something is valid, or funny, or snide.

 

But that is, indeed, what makes boards like this fun. The main storyline is the plot; the banter and ruffled feathers along the way is the subplot that makes it all the more interesting to read the next chapter.

QUOTE]

 

WELL SAID....

I myself enjoyed your review. And wish you all the best for the New Year!

Happy sailing....

[bickee]

Thank you so much! I enjoyed your review!