04-08-2025
Kathy Lette: What I learnt on my first cruise
A cruise from Venice to Athens in the 'off season' did not float my boat. But tracing a part of Odysseus's epic voyage has always been top of my big sister's bucket list and I owe her so much. As in many families, one member tends to carry the burden of care for an aged parent. My guilt gland throbs whenever I think of all the loving support Jenny gives our 93-year-old mum.
Still, did I really want to spend ten days in November aboard a huge horizontal hotel with its buffet queues, cabins so poky a sardine would feel claustrophobic and questionable cabaret with second-rate singers? To me, Homer is simply a character in The Simpsons. All this kind of trip could do was put the 'odd' into Odyssey.
With great reluctance I packed my glad rags while also stowing my inflatable armbands, just in case it all proved too much and I had to jump ship.
Trekking down the long carpeted corridor on Crystal Symphony to our cabin, I steeled myself. I had heard so many horror stories about cruising and I imagined my top complaint to be the tiny rooms. In the shower I planned to just soap the walls and spin.
I sloped through the cabin door and into the kind of cramped space I had dreaded. It was only when my sister turned on the lights I realised that I had accidentally blundered into our walk-in wardrobe. When I saw our luxurious Sapphire Veranda suite I let out a whoop worthy of a Californian aerobics instructor.
I ogled in awe at all 430 sq ft of our room before wandering out onto the big, wide veranda. The spacious living room and dining area opened up into a luxurious boudoir with the most comfy and cosy bedding. Oh, and did I mention the personal butler wafting in and out with handmade truffles, canapés, espressos, champagne and tempting invitations?
'Can you hear the ship's engines thrumming?' my sister asked, as we unpacked.
I cocked an ear. 'That's not thrumming,' I replied. 'That's purring … and it's coming from a cougar near you.'
Our butler had just told me about the gentlemen dance hosts on board. These Crystal ambassadors are part of the line's enrichment programme, on board to act as dance partners for female guests.
I was out of my jeans and into a cocktail dress faster than you could say 'flirtation'. But as I scurried up to the Palm Court for a singles' gathering, I suddenly wavered. Was I too old? Would the disco be dubbed 'Grab a Granny'? Would I have to whisper in some muscled Adonis's ear 'Shout dirty to me'?
Well, I needn't have worried. Nor frocked up. In truth I should have worn jodhpurs because what I discovered was a den of four silver foxes. A 'skulk' is the correct collective noun but there was nothing furtive about these foxes. One urbane vulpine shook his tail — his coat-tails, that is — then bent down to kiss my hand. A suavely tuxedoed gentleman then led me into a waltz. As I was whisked around the ballroom by a succession of silver-mane-tossing septuagenarians, well, 'Tally-ho' seemed the only appropriate response.
Between rumbas and sambas, I chatted to the other single female passengers. Widows, divorcees or retired career women, they had all set sail to enjoy a sensational second act. They were footloose and fiancé-free and their appreciation of being appreciated is clearly part of the reason that Crystal has a 70 per cent rebooking rate. Tracey, a former financial adviser, told me how she had enjoyed 195 Crystal cruises since retiring in her forties: 'There's a feeling of family. Everybody knows my name.' 'No guest ever feels lonely,' one passenger said as a twinkly-eyed lothario presented his arm for a foxtrot.
Even dining tables are set aside in the Waterside Restaurant, the ship's main dining room, for solo travellers who want to meet other singles. That night, though, my sister and I feasted on the delicious tasting menu in the Vintage Room with ten others. Each dish was exquisitely paired with the head sommelier's choices.
Jenny rhapsodised about the flavours. 'Oh, that cabernet sauvignon's intense blackberry taste. Or is it boysenberry? Or dark chocolate and black tea?' she lavished. Simultaneously, she marvelled at her wagyu beef tenderloin: 'Oh, just look at that exquisite fat marbling!'
'One of life's great mysteries is why men like their wine old, but their women young. And our thighs skinny, but their beef fatty,' I joked to our fellow diners. 'If only men appreciated older women in the same way!'
'Well, dancing with the Crystal ambassadors definitely makes me feel young again,' a bejewelled dame opposite said, beaming, before she rose to waft back to the ballroom.
One of the reasons to keep dancing is the aerobic exercise. If you don't do the Disco Diet, by day two you'll find yourself between belt loop phases. By day three, an elasticated waistband will be beckoning.
After our gourmet extravaganza of poached lobster tail with summer truffle, Chilean seabass with artichoke, porcini mushroom risotto, wagyu beef tenderloin with potato mousseline, salsify and pumpernickel, followed by a selection of cheeses and chocolate pralines, there was no need to sign up for the next day's 'personal growth' lecture because I was already two sizes bigger.
Crystal Symphony offers ten dining options. Top of my taste sensations is the chef Nobuyuki Matsuhisa's Umi Uma, which is basically Nobu at sea, with a mouth-wateringly delicious Japanese-Peruvian twist. My sister's top palate-pleaser was the scrumptious Italian cuisine at Osteria D'Ovidio. Here Massimiliano Alajmo, the youngest chef to be awarded three Michelin stars, ensures that fresh and local ingredients are sourced for each moreish meal.
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Actually, all the cruise cuisine was so ambrosial that I soon forgot about Zeus, Medusa and the Cyclops; my Mediterranean odyssey seemed to be from disco to bistro and back again. If only there were speed bumps to slow down my progress to the buffet. My sister finally staged an intervention and made me consult a different menu, helping me to enjoy the extensive choice.
Crystal is owned by Abercrombie & Kent, which claims to provide guests with shore excursions that are a cut above the rest. So there was plenty of choice. Our fellow passengers were a mix of gloating Trumpsters and shell-shocked Democrats. During expeditions, I trod carefully through opening conversational gambits, ascertaining any potential landmines. To test the waters, literally, I would try out Bill Maher's post-election comment ('Imagine half the passengers on the Titanic being pro-iceberg') then gravitate towards those who laughed.
I had been worried about cruising the Med off-season but I was totally wrong about that too. The weather was crisp but sunny and, best of all, so few tourists. The joy of exploring the Acropolis in autumn or winter is that there are no other people to, um, 'ruin' the view. From Venice to Ravenna, Split to Dubrovnik and all the way down to Kotor, Cephalonia, Corfu, Crete and Athens, we had a treasure trove of medieval fortresses, Venetian fortifications, Minoan palaces, pickled bits of saints, castles, cathedrals, basilicas, golden murals, precious antiquities and jaw-dropping archaeological sites pretty much to ourselves.
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My ignorance of Greek mythology has always been my Achilles' heel but articulate guides had me suctioning up information like a human vacuum cleaner about centaurs, Penelope's suitors, Minoan culture, Venetian sea battles, the Ottoman empire, Socrates, Sparta, the Elgin Marbles and Doric and Ionic columns. (I know more about ironic columns, obviously, like this one.)
Of course, the best thing about cruising is that you are umbilically attached to the mother ship. When we had worn out our shoe leather, we simply boarded our boat to sip margaritas as we glided off across the silvery sea to our next location.
If prancing about parapets proves too exhausting, there's much to do on board. My sister and I played pickleball, ping-pong and contorted ourselves into yoga knots. We did quizzes and dance classes. We signed up for 'enrichment lectures', from politics to talks on 'ageing memory and cognitive transition' — which we forgot to attend, obviously.
I also tried out a session called 'targeted wrinkle remedies'. Mind you, most of my new wrinkles came from the deepening of laughter lines when eavesdropping on some of the older American passengers. At a gaming table in the replica of Monaco's world-famous Casino de Monte-Carlo, I hit the comedic jackpot when a Texan quizzed the croupier, 'So, do the crew sleep on board?' When asked about his day at the Bronze Age Palace of Knossos, he drawled, 'I was surprised the ruins are in such bad shape.'
The scheduled entertainment was equally diverting, from the Three Tenors operatic performances and virtuoso classical violin concerts to the medleys of Broadway musicals and jaunty jazz bands.
My big sister and I are opposite in so many ways, but this cruise catered for both our needs. There were Hellenistic temples for Jenny and tango for me; castles for Jen and karaoke for Kath. While she explored catacombs, crypts and Franciscan cloisters, I poked about the houses of Byron and Dante. And speaking of divine comedies (and with Bill Maher's joke still in mind), as the world titanics, what can we do but keep each other buoyant and continue sailing, hopefully towards happier horizons?
In fact this life-enhancing, pampering voyage from Venice to the Aegean aboard HMS Hedonism not only gave respite to my dear, beleaguered sister but proved so enthralling, I'm planning to stow away on the next sailing. Although for God's sake, lash me to the mast so that I'm not lured onto the dancefloor by the siren call of Abba hits. Too much vigorous dancing with those twinkle-toed Crystal ambassadors has left me with a groin strain and a hamstring injury.
As for my dread of cruising? Well, dear reader, that ship has Lette was a guest of Crystal, which seven nights' all-inclusive from £5,135pp, including flights and transfers, departing on September 8, 2026 (
