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Shuffling along an endless line, dragging bags, in the hot, steamy New York Port
Authority building was not an auspicious start to the romantic dream vacation I
envisioned. The champagne we swilled on the two-hour limo ride took a bit of
the edge off, but I'd imagined being delivered to a festively-decked gangway
with highly-starched officers saluting us and offering still more champagne as
we boarded.
There was champagne in our stateroom. Our stateroom with twin beds.
"So far, I don't like this."
"Just wait."
The wait was worth it. As we steamed out of New York harbor, champagne flutes in
hand, the ship's horn saluted the Statue of Liberty with four long blasts. I
fell in love again. This time with 30,000 tons of steel, brass, mahogany and
teak.
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| Our first formal night on the Meridian |
They say you never forget your first kiss. The elegant, graceful Meridian
kissed me hello that sultry, gritty July afternoon, beginning a romance that
continued through six sailings until I kissed her goodbye on her next-to-last
voyage under the "X" of Chandris/Celebrity. I didn't know how much I loved her
until she met a fiery and untimely death off the coast of Malaysia and came to
her final rest beneath the seas she graced for so long.
When Meridian and I met on our blind date, I didn't know her
history.
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| Builder's Plaque |
She first sailed as the Galileo Galilei of the prestigious Lloyd
Triestino line, plying the seas from the Mediterranean to Africa and Australia.
In 1977, her exotic port list included Malaga, Genoa, Naples, Port Said,
Djibuti, Durban, Fremantle, Sydney, Aukland, Noumea, Tahiti and Acapulco. By
the time she and I came together, she was on the summer run to Bermuda and
lazed about the Caribbean in winter, suitably dignified itineraries for such a
stately matron of the waves.
In her first incarnation, she carried First Class passengers in search of luxury
adventures in less than 50 cabins on her top passenger deck, A. The rest of her
1600 passengers, mostly immigrants to new lands in search of a new life,
traveled in Tourist class, packed in tiny four-berth cabins on C, D, E, and F
decks, with a few crammed in fore and aft on B deck. Compared to the
heavy-laden vessels which hailed in at Ellis Island at the turn of the Century, G.
Galalei offered incomparable comfort.
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| Only on the Meridian could you go down
to the upper deck |
If mystery keeps romance alive, Meridian had me in her spell. In six
cruises, I never did figure out her stairways, remnants of the days when she
was a two-class ship, which survived her mid-life beauty treatment. A
stretch here, a nip and tuck there, she ended up several feet longer and
carried a passenger complement of 1200. The bidets in the top-class cabins were
gone, but now nobody had to share a bathroom.
Over our years together, I never failed to glory in the first at-sea day on the
way to Bermuda. Pink sand beaches,
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| Meridian at the Royal Naval Dockyard (Kings Wharf) in
Bermuda |
breathtaking views on heart-stopping , bottom-bruising scooter excursions, and
the lazy ferry ride from the Royal Naval Dockyard - specially brought back to
life to accommodate Meridian's ocean-going draught - to downtown
Hamilton for shopping and a taste of Gosling's Black Seal rum could wait.
Like old lovers, Meridian and I held each other close in reunion. Even
though I cheated a bit with other ships, Meridian was my sentimental
favorite, sailing her to Bermuda my touchstone sentimental journey.
Meridian always indulged another great passion, food. Michele Roux'
Celebrity cuisine always tasted better on Meridian than on her larger
fleetmates. I carried a minor grudge when quail pate was taken off the dinner
menu and would surely have mutinied if the signature swan pastries disappeared.
A gracious hostess, she invited us to linger over dinner, finishing off a
bottle of good red wine, nibbling on fruit and cheese, talking about the day
just past. My husband, connoisseur of such things, still contends that Meridian
had the best Lido Burgers afloat.
The long alle of the Palm Court was the perfect place for a quiet sunset
cocktail. After dinner, the whole world passed in review as we savored decadent
brandy alexanders in the Redezvous Lounge. We dined with a succession of
Captains, each more charming than the last - each proud to be the Master of Meridian
and visibly pleased when asked about the lady under his care.
The lady comported herself well. Even in heavy seas, outrunning an oncoming
hurricane, she never faltered. Middle age, as ships go, suited Meridian.
Her brass gleamed, her brightwork dazzled, her teak decks glowed from years of
careful maintenance. She was never without her makeup of smart, new paint.
Time came, too soon, to say goodbye to Meridian and the rich store of
magic memories we'd collected together. In the summer of 1997, we learned she'd
been sold and was soon to go to Singapore to sail under her third owner's flag.
Ironically, we were just back from two weeks' cruising from Singapore to Hong
Kong and had a fifteen-day Panama Canal cruise coming up bare weeks after her
last scheduled sailing. She must have known that I was going to stand her up
that year in favor of more exotic itineraries on newer, more enticing ladies of
the sea. She brooked no nonsense. We booked passage.
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Andy
Mom's companion Bernice, Me, Mom
The old girls on our last trip on the Old Girl |
Sentimentality obviously won the day, so we hit on the idea of sharing Meridian
with another very special, though land-locked, lady - my mother - as chaperone
on our last date. Rising 85, Mom had never been on a cruise, never expected to
go on one. Her "firsts" on Meridian were my "lasts." Seeing both of my
beloved old gals together made the farewells sweeter.
I didn't look back as I came down Meridan's gangplank for the last time.
Mom did. "Wait until I tell Gopher about this!"
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