(Or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the ship.)
Fourteen days. Eight islands. Ten million calories. This a rambling account of our travels through the Caribbean on the Celebrity Constellation in April-May 2011, with photos by Snookie and words (and words and more words) by Imozelle.
Want to travel with us? Click on the days above or on the island links below. Or, if you are particularly brave, just wade through the entire site. There are forward links at the bottom of each page.
Want to travel with us? Click on the days above or on the island links below. Or, if you are particularly brave, just wade through the entire site. There are forward links at the bottom of each page.
Friday, April 22
Today is Earth Day, and we celebrate by flying across the country, by the least direct route, to spend two weeks on a ship that gets about 2 inches to the gallon. The books we packed probably represent a dead tree or two as well. In spite of our transgressions toward Mother Earth, the travel gods are kind: Our ride arrives just as I finish packing, the airport is relatively calm, and we settle into an exit row for what is supposed to be a through flight. But no. There are only three of us left on board in Denver, and we are hustled off the plane to the other end of the terminal, where we find hordes of people en route to various ships in Fort Lauderdale – but no airplane. During the 90-minute delay (and yet another gate change) we have time to snag a yogurt and chat with a couple who are fanatic cruisers. They deign to go home for Christmas; the rest of the time, they devote their lives to cruising for good deals in the Caribbean.
Fort Lauderdale is reasonably warm, and the Riverside Hotel is in the middle of Las Olas, which seems to be an upscale shopping and restaurant district. In search of dinner, we stroll past vintage MGs and Corvettes, a Rolls-Royce or two, and a Ferrari with its engine under glass. (Dodge Darts, apparently, have to park in the back.) And our walk along the river (canal?) takes us past assorted yachts the size of our house. Talk about a salute to Earth Day.
Today is Earth Day, and we celebrate by flying across the country, by the least direct route, to spend two weeks on a ship that gets about 2 inches to the gallon. The books we packed probably represent a dead tree or two as well. In spite of our transgressions toward Mother Earth, the travel gods are kind: Our ride arrives just as I finish packing, the airport is relatively calm, and we settle into an exit row for what is supposed to be a through flight. But no. There are only three of us left on board in Denver, and we are hustled off the plane to the other end of the terminal, where we find hordes of people en route to various ships in Fort Lauderdale – but no airplane. During the 90-minute delay (and yet another gate change) we have time to snag a yogurt and chat with a couple who are fanatic cruisers. They deign to go home for Christmas; the rest of the time, they devote their lives to cruising for good deals in the Caribbean.
Fort Lauderdale is reasonably warm, and the Riverside Hotel is in the middle of Las Olas, which seems to be an upscale shopping and restaurant district. In search of dinner, we stroll past vintage MGs and Corvettes, a Rolls-Royce or two, and a Ferrari with its engine under glass. (Dodge Darts, apparently, have to park in the back.) And our walk along the river (canal?) takes us past assorted yachts the size of our house. Talk about a salute to Earth Day.