14th December 2024

For many passengers aboard the Nieuw Statendam, it was disembarkation day, a bleary-eyed farewell to floating luxury and an unreasonably early start. We, however, had grander plans. With a tour booked, we joined the weary masses at the breakfast buffet at the eye-wateringly early hour of 6:15 am. The day ahead promised to be warm and blustery with the odd shower, so we armed ourselves in true British fashion: a blend of cheerful optimism and trusty waterproofs.

By 8 am, we were seated dockside, having navigated the ship’s serpentine corridors and endured the labyrinth of security checks alongside a procession of suitcase-toting zombies. All passengers were required to vacate the ship, courtesy of the ever-fickle demands of immigration and customs. We took the opportunity to book a tour to the Everglades for an airboat ride and an alligator show, because, well, it’s Florida.

Our coach departed promptly at 8:30 am, ferrying a mixed group of tired travellers and their luggage to the airports in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. The fortunate few, ourselves included, were merely being evicted for a few hours and would return to the ship later for another week of indulgence.

During the 40-minute drive to Everglades Holiday Park, our guide did their best to keep us alert with a barrage of Florida trivia and an endless stream of one-liners. Sue chuckled appreciatively while I rolled my eyes, proving, yet again, that humour is indeed a matter of taste.

As we arrived at the park, we were greeted by the dramatic sight of a double rainbow arching ominously in the distance, colourful but unwelcome. While queuing to board our airboat, I secured a seat by the gunwale, thinking it the perfect spot for photographs. Or, so I thought.

Unfortunately, this prime position also left me perfectly exposed to the rain, which began just as we set off. Cameras were hastily tucked beneath jackets as we wriggled and twisted in our seats, trying in vain to avoid a soaking. Nearby, a cluster of unconcerned birds perched calmly on wooden posts, entirely unfazed by the sudden squall, as if to mock our soggy discomfort.

Then the real fun began. Our captain fired up the airboat’s twin propellers, and we shot off into the wetlands, slicing through the “River of Grass” at exhilarating speeds. The rain soon eased, the sun broke through, and we drifted into a quiet lagoon. There, basking on a rush-fringed island, lay a hulking black alligator, about two metres long, soaking up the warmth. Sadly, it turned out to be the only gator we’d spot all day. Still, the high-speed bursts across the open wetlands,  reaching 60 mph, more than made up for the lack of scaly sightings. In truth, airboats are the only acceptable mode of transport in the Everglades.

Back at the wharf, we were treated to a live alligator show in the Gator Pit, performed by the Gator Boys Alligator Rescue team of Animal Planet fame. The stars of the show were so-called “nuisance gators”, rescued from suburban swimming pools, gardens, or, rather less amusingly, after making a meal of someone’s pet. In Florida, it seems, rogue gators face two fates: the sanctuary or the chopping block.

While Sue and I had seen larger specimens in shows in the Far East, the Gator Boys’ audacious antics were no less jaw-dropping. As the handler cheerfully admitted, you’d have to be slightly unhinged to do this for a living, and I couldn’t agree more.

With the show over, we boarded the coach for the return journey. First stop: Fort Lauderdale Airport, to offload our suitcase-laden companions. Thankfully, we were spared the detour to Miami Airport and were instead returned to the port. Embarkation was in full swing as we re-entered the terminal, weaving through the wide-eyed excitement of the newly arrived passengers. After a quick stop at the cabin to drop off my rucksack, we made a beeline for the buffet, a late lunch calling louder than any alligator ever could.

Later, Sue headed up on deck at 5 pm to watch the sail away, though we ended up lingering in port for an extra half hour thanks to one of five other cruise ships parked directly in our path, an oversized maritime traffic jam. No matter; the delay gave Sue ample time to admire the stunning waterfront homes that lined the port and coastline. She did, however, raise an eyebrow at their proximity to the beach, musing aloud about the wisdom of living so close to storm-surge central. Given the area’s annual hurricane hit list, she reckoned the residents must be crazily tolerant of the floodwaters.

That evening, we dined with two fresh-faced couples just beginning their cruise, one from South Carolina and the other from Michigan. Their company was delightful; the service, however, was less so. Each course arrived at such a glacial pace that it felt as though the kitchen staff were maturing the cheese between servings. Over two hours had passed by the time we finally received our coffees, by which point we’d aired our grievances to the house manager in full. He apologised profusely and, in a gesture of goodwill (I hope), he jotted down our cabin numbers.

The evening ended on a high note, quite literally, as we settled into the BB King Bar for the debut performance of the ship’s new blues dance band. They were superb, so good, in fact, that we almost forgot our earlier frustrations. Almost.

15th December 2024

The sea was a little choppy overnight, but we slept reasonably well until around 6 am, when we decided to shower and head to breakfast early. Through the restaurant window, the view was of a grey, restless sea, with the wind whipping the wave tops into a fine mist. Another cruise ship steadily gained on us to starboard, her bow slicing through the rollers and sending white foam streaming aft. Her captain, it seemed, was in more of a hurry than ours.

There were only a few people at breakfast, and with no queues to navigate, we were soon back in the cabin, planning the day ahead. Sue opted to attend a “Chat with the Captain” session in the BB King Bar, while I found a cosy spot by a window near reception to continue editing past blogs.

I paused for a coffee on Deck 9 before meeting Sue again in the theatre for a port presentation covering the islands we’d be visiting during the week. Afterwards, we both found seats on the Lido Deck to enjoy the sunshine, Sue with her book, and I still buried in blog editing. The retractable roof over the deck had been left open, but had to be closed swiftly when a sudden, heavy rainstorm swept through, sending sunbathers scattering for cover. Predictably, as soon as the roof was shut, the rain stopped, and the sun reappeared.

At midday, we returned to the cabin to recharge my laptop, then made our way to the dining room. Keen to avoid the buffet scrum, we tried one of the service restaurants instead, a decision that paid off. We were seated with three friendly Americans and a Brazilian, and the service was prompt and pleasant. It was a far more relaxed experience than the chaos of the buffet.

After lunch, Sue headed up to the top deck to continue reading, while I returned to the cabin to carry on editing, this time with the laptop plugged in and charging.

That evening’s dress code was billed as “Dressy”, a notch above casual, edging towards smart. I opted for a shirt and tie. We were seated at a table for four alongside a couple of Indian origin now living in Louisiana. Initially, we struggled to understand them; their voices were soft, their accent strong, and their manner somewhat reserved, but as the meal progressed, we warmed to one another, and the conversation soon flowed. The evening passed quickly, and unlike last night’s marathon, we completed all three courses in under an hour. The conversation turned to their concerns about the incoming Trump presidency.

The earlier part of the evening was spent enjoying live music in the bars. We began with a piano duo performing popular tunes in the Billboard Lounge, followed by the ship’s rock band belting out Fleetwood Mac and Deep Purple classics in the Rolling Stone Lounge. We rounded off the night in the theatre with a comedy set by Kevin Flynn. For once, we fully understood the humour and laughed heartily along with the rest of the audience (worryingly, are we slowly becoming American?).