Food, Festivities, & Donkeys

on our cruise to Mexico

Our Royal Caribbean Navigator of the Seas cruise had eleven different dining options. That’s eleven different restaurants on board! Four of these were complimentary. The others were tucked around the ship in little nooks with different decor and food styles. Our family took breakfasts and lunches in the ship's buffet-style restaurant, the Windjammer, located on the ship’s eleventh floor with spectacular views out the back of the ship.

Most mornings, Phil and I opted to take the eight flights of stairs up while the children tried to beat us on the elevators. Phil beat them most days; I couldn’t get up those stairs fast enough. I’m a little disappointed that after eight days of mostly using the stairs, my legs still burned after the fifth flight.

At the entrance to the Windjammer restaurant, a cheerful Filipino gal greeted us every morning with, “Washie, washie!” encouraging us to the trough-style hand washing stations. One morning, she dressed like a fried egg. Another morning, she was bacon. In the evenings, she dressed according to whatever style of food the Windjammer served. I spotted her dressed like Napoleon Bonaparte one night.

We, along with Grandma, Grandpa, cousins, aunt, uncle, dined in the three-storied banqueting room for dinner. The dining hall looked like something out of a fairy tale with its dangling chandelier, swaths of white drapery, and gold gilded pillars. Every few nights, the staff danced through the aisles for the diners to show their appreciation by swinging their napkins overhead and cheering.

Three dinners were taken while the ship was pulling out of port. The views of diving frigate birds, high-rises, lighthouses, green mountains, bare desert, and other ships were fascinating, but I got a bit seasick if I looked at them for too long.

The food truly was impressive, and the kids were spoiled by choosing whatever they wished off the kid’s menu, including multiple desserts and flavors of ice cream. Lee tried lobster and fish off the adult menu a few nights, and the adults enjoyed a three-course meal from a different menu each night.

I could go on and on about the food, but I don’t have the vocabulary for it, and what I found even more impressive was the people who served it. These servant-like people memorized our names and drink preferences by the second night. They were primarily Filipino, working for months away from their families and sending what they made back home. They inquired about our days and our families and were very tolerant of our children’s behavior, seeing as our kids had no clue what to do with all the silverware, covered the table with their toys, and quite often forgot their pleases and thank yous.

We adults configured the seating in various ways to try to keep the ruffians under control and yet still enjoy the meal, conversing together. I don’t know that we ever found the ideal seating arrangement, but we did find a little diner where we could sip decaf and chat after the meal.

I could say similar things about the on-ship activities. They were numerous and diverting. We laser-tagged, ice skated, rock climbed, had a paper airplane competition, did archery, rode two lengthy water-slides with water pro-pulsed dips, Flowrode on boogie boards, played miniature golf, saw a magician’s show and ice-skating show, played basketball, mini-soccer, table-tennis, boccie ball, swam in their pools, lounged in their spas, had an Easter egg hunt, rode the elevator with a pianist, and walked down the ships casino and promenade.

But seriously, the people were most impressive. The lifeguards standing at the pool toed the edge back and forth, back and forth scanning the surface for any bees or bugs or rough play—not that my children could engage in rough play seeing as they were spellbound by the huge TV dominating the pool area, playing a looped program of funny human blunders and impressive feats.

Eduard, who cleaned our hallway of rooms, started at 8 am and sometimes worked until 11 pm. He said sometimes he gets to go off the ship for an hour, but mostly, he stays on and rests if there’s time. This guy knew our schedules, asked us what we might be doing, remembered our names, and always smiled. I got the impression that he liked his job and found more joy doing it than we did doing our recreational activities.

“It’s nice,” he once said to me in the hallway in passing. He held a vacuum, and sweat beaded on his forehead. “It’s nice to be with your family.”

I nodded, not really hearing what he was saying, since at that moment, I was thinking how nice it would be to be cleaning rooms by myself, hearing no complaints or bickering, but the sound of the whirring vacuum.

I see now what he meant. He was missing his family and thinking how lovely it must’ve been for our family to be together on this luxurious ship.

It was lovely. It was like eight days on Pleasure Island, and when we’d all turned into donkeys, we came back to port and home and Mama cooking “boring” food, and everyone cleaning up after himself or herself, and the kids inventing their own games in the front yard for the entertainment of our neighbors.

I’m glad to have gone and it’s nice to be home.

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