Posts tagged: Carnival Sunshine
We’d spent the day on an island off the coast of Cozumel, lying in the sun, walking the beach, sipping drinks— all the kinds of things you do on that kind of vacation— until the water taxi arrived in the late afternoon to take us back to our ship, the Carnival Sunshine.
Sitting on the top deck of the boat, I stretched my arm along the rail, rested my chin on my arm and gazed out at the ocean.
The wind cooled my face as we sped across the surface of the water, rising and falling with the waves, and I was content to sit there looking out on the water, sweeping the horizon, hoping to see something. Just…something.
This is a habit I’ve had since I was a child, scanning the trees or the forest or the riverbanks for some quick glimpse of what I might otherwise miss, always with the feeling that there is something interesting there and, if I can be still and quiet, I might be rewarded.
The charm worked this time because at that moment, right beside me, a flying fish broke the surface of the water and sailed over the waves. The late afternoon sun gilded the fish’s wings with gold and I could hear the Hummingbird sound of its flight.
Immediately, everything dropped away. I no longer heard the music or the laughter of the people on the boat. I kept my eyes on the beautiful golden thing moving so swiftly and improbably beside me. I didn’t move or make a sound as the fish sailed over the surface for 30 seconds or so before dipping back down into the sea and disappearing.
It was a splendid, shining, moment and it was all mine.
Oh, I know flying fish aren’t rare, but the thing is, I’d never seen one before. I’ve read about flying fish and seen them on nature shows, but before that moment I’d never actually seen one fly. So, in that way, it was a gift. And a reminder.
I sometimes wonder how often, when we’re engaged in the silliest of human activities—like, say, singing “Red, Red, Wine” on a boat speeding back to a cruise ship, or jogging down a wooded trail with our eyes trained only on the trail ahead and our ears filled with canned music; when we are engaged being disengaged, some beautiful wild creature appears, yet remains invisible to all but the lucky few. I suspect it is frequent thing. The fox trotting swift and low along the railroad track, the owl blinking down from a tree in the park just before sunset, the deer grazing in the meadow before silently disappearing into the woods, are all there if we see them, invisible if we do not.
These birds and animals share our world, our streets and neighborhoods, but most of the time they are like shooting stars, only spotted when we happen to turn our eyes to the right place at the right time.
I turned backed to the crowd, back to the girls in fedoras dancing on the deck, back to the laughter and the music, with a secret: that singular moments don’t have to be big. Sometimes, if we’re open, if we are watching, they come to us on unlikely wings and a brief flash of gold.
Cheryl-Anne Millsap’s audio essays can be heard on Spokane Public Radio and on public radio stations across the country. She is the author of “Home Planet: A Life in Four Seasons” and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
Slogging through a cold, dark, winter in the Northwest, it’s easy to find yourself starved for a little fun in the sun. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to join the U. S. inaugural sailing of the Carnival Sunshine out of the Port of New Orleans in November.
The Carnival Sunshine was first launched in 1996 as the Carnival Destiny. At that the time it was the world’s largest cruise liner. After a massive and complete makeover in 2013, with a price tag of $155 million, the reborn liner spent a summer in Europe before moving to its new home port in The Crescent City.
After a day exploring New Orleans, with most of that time spent at the WWII Museum, we boarded the ship and headed down the Mississippi River toward the Gulf of Mexico. For the next 7 days we cruised the Caribbean sea, stopping at Grand Cayman Island and Cozumel before returning back to New Orleans.
These days, with a teenager and a 2-year-old grandchild around, I’m thinking more and more about multigenerational travel. I made sure I got a good look at all the new options for families. The Waterworks water park is the largest in the fleet and it’s the place to be when the sun is hot and shining. The top-deck SportSquare with ropes course, ball courts, mini golf and a jogging track is a great place for families to spend some quality time together and there are Informal activities like poolside “Dive in Movies” under the gigantic LED screen TV. Children’s programs include Camp Carnival children’s program for ages 2-11, Circle C for ages 12-14 and Club O2 for teens 15-17.
As expected there were plenty of grownup entertainment options, including well-produced musical extravaganzas, family-friendly and interactive “Hasbro: The Game Show” and the “Punchliner Comedy Club Presented by George Lopez,” but to be honest we spent most of our free time on one of the three levels of the adults-only “Serenity Deck” with paperback books and the occasional paper umbrella drink. Located away from the noisy and popular party deck, the Serenity Deck offers plenty of padded lounge chairs, private clamshell cabana chairs and even queen-size hammocks for snoozing. (There is no charge to access the Serenity Deck, but drinks are extra. )
On the whole, the cruise from New Orleans was a great way to escape the dreary weather in Spokane and get another shot of Vitamin D before spring returns. And, of course, it’s always fun to visit New Orleans.
Here’s a breakdown of pros and cont:
Pros: You can’t beat Carnival’s value. It’s possible to fly to New Orleans and then spend a week cruising in the sun for less than you might spend on a week shivering at the Oregon Coast or even a long weekend in Seattle for a show or concert. The variety of food on board is impressive and Carnival continues to expand options from premium dining at the “Fahrenheit 555” steak house, to specialty dining at “Cucina del Capitano” and “JiJi’s Asian Kitchen” to free burgers and fries at Guy Fieri’s “Guy’s Burger Joint”. Carnival Sunshine staterooms are attractive, comfortable and offer plenty of storage.
Cons: My only real complaint about any Carnival Cruise is the number of smokers on board. Smoking is limited to the casino and certain decks but is allowed on private balconies. Once or twice we abandoned our balcony chairs because a neighbor’s smoke was drifting our way.
For more information about the Carnival Sunshine cruises out of New Orleans, contact your travel agent or go to www.carnival.com You can find Cheryl-Anne’s Instagram photos of the cruise at instagram.com/camillsap
Cheryl-Anne Millsap is a travel writer whose audio essays can be heard on Spokane Public Radio and on public radio stations across the country. She is the author of ‘Home Planet: A Life in Four Seasons’ and can be reached at email@example.com
I hadn’t been in New Orleans for a long time, but the mystique is still true; the city is one you don’t forget. A lot has changed over time and after the devastating hurricane in 2005, but as I walked, taking in familiar sights, the distinctive architecture, the soft Southern voices and the sounds of jazz and Zydeco music, I knew exactly where I was.
I’d flown down to cover the maiden U. S. voyage of the Carnival Sunshine, sailing from the Port of New Orleans, and my husband was with me. We had a day to explore the city before the cruise began and we made a quick tour of the French Quarter and the waterfront, before heading up Magazine street to the New Orleans destination we’d really come to see: The World War II Museum.
I spent a week last summer touring the countryside of the Normandy region of France, and I’d visited most of the D-Day landing sites and museums. Since my return, I haven’t been able to shake the experience. The scope and stories of the profoundly life-changing experiences of the survivors, and the sheer number of lives lost, is, even 70 years later, overwhelming. I was anxious to see how the WWII Museum’s D-Day exhibit captured that time in history.
But first, before we explored anything indoors, we had another, more personal, monument to see. When the museum opened in 2000 my husband’s family purchased a commemorative brick to honor their father who served in the Marines and was stationed in the South Pacific during WWII. My husband, with one of our daughters, had visited the brick once before, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, but I hadn’t seen it.
With the help of a map supplied by museum staff, we found my father-in-law’s engraved brick on the walkway near the entrance of the museum. My husband brushed away a few fallen leaves and I took his photo with it. We stood there for a few more minutes without saying anything, both of us lost in our own thoughts of someone we’d loved.
My father-in-law died in 2009 and he never got to see the small monument his children placed at the museum to honor him. But he knew it was there and I think it pleased him.
For the next week, cruising around the Caribbean, soaking up as much sun as possible before going back to the cold, already snowy, Northwest, my mind kept going back to the red brick carved with my father-in-law’s name and the torpedo bomber squadron to which he’d been assigned.
I’m glad we’d dedicated most of our free time in New Orleans to visiting the museum. The D-Day exhibit was moving and comprehensive and captured the true horror of the battles of the war. And it gave us a chance to revisit a personal history, to stop and take a moment to remember a kind and gentle man.