M/V Celestyal Majesty, 40,000 tons, passenger capacity approximately 1400.
Built by Wartsila shipyard, Finland in 1992 as the Royal Majesty for Crown Cruise Line. Sold to Norwegian Cruise Line in 1997 and renamed as Norwegian Majesty. 1999, lengthened with the addition of a new midsection. 2008: sold to Louis Cruise Lines and, after a brief stint as the Louis Majesty, was chartered out to Thomson Cruises as the Thomson Majesty. 2017, returned to owners Celestyal Cruises (nee Louis Cruises) and renamed as the Celestyal Majesty.
Monday, April 23rd: Piraeus, Athens: Dep. 1100
Monday, April 23rd: Mykonos: Arr. 1745 dep. 2300
Tuesday, April 24th: Kusadasi: Arr. 0700 dep. 1230
Tuesday, April 24th: Patmos: Arr. 1645 dep. 2200
Wednesday, April 25th: Rhodes: Arr. 0800 dep. 1800
Thursday, April 26th: Heraklion: Arr. 0700 dep. 1230
Thursday, April 26th: Santorini: Arr. 1630 dep. 2230
Not simply content with becoming a three ship fleet as of September 2018, deluxe, all inclusive boutique cruise line, Azamara Club Cruises, is embarking on a veritable raft of new adventures for the up and coming 2020 cruise season.
Firstly, all three of the line’s trio of svelte, 30,000 ton sister ships- Azamara Journey, Azamara Quest and Azamara Pursuit- will rendezvous for the first time ever in the spectacular natural setting of Koper, in Slovenia, on October 8th, 2020. One of the line’s famed, late night AzAmazing Experiences will be the spectacular prelude to all three ships setting sail in unison for Venice. This alone should be an auspicious, first time event.
But it’s the scale- and the statistics- of that 2020 season itself that are truly spectacular. Guests contemplating/anticipating the all inclusive Azamara experience might want to contemplate some of the following:
Ninety-two cruises in total, offered across all three ships
No less than forty-one maiden calls
170 overnight port stays
303 late night port stays
Forty full, country intensive itineraries
With a three ship fleet, the range and depth of offerings is significantly enhanced, too. For the first time ever, Azamara Club Cruises will offer some exclusive South African itineraries-ideal for ships of this size- that include truly immersive travel programmes highlighting the extensive wine regions around Cape Town, and the exotic Zulu culture on offer from Richards Bay. Among other options will be game drives, and even overnight stays ashore in some of the more auspicious safari parks.
Equally evocative in it’s own way is an eighteen night maiden foray to stunning Hawaii, and the picture perfect idylls of French Polynesia such as Tahiti and Bora Bora.
And, of particular note to true platinum chip sybarites, Azamara Quest will embark on the line’s second world cruise on February 20th, 2020, embarking in Cape Town and ending in Southampton.
How to get the best out of all three ships in one go? You might want to consider the quite remarkable, 42 night voyage from Athens to Copenhagen. It commences on May 26th, 2020, and literally allows you to travel on all three of these celebrated siblings.
With our short but sweet four night cruise a bit of a distant memory, now seems as good a time as any to reflect on the whole, overall experience. At the time of travelling, it’s so intense, so full on, that any realistic evaluation is hard to come to.
Of course, it’s destination heavy, with a potential six ports of call over some four days. Most of those calls are four or five hour snapshots, but they do give you enough time to get a flavour of the places themselves.
Think of this cruise as being more like a tapas menu, rather than a full, sit down, five course meal. Pick at the bits you want, and simply recharge for the rest of the time. For instance, we didn’t get off the ship at Heraklion- not out of any disrespect for the port, but simply because we felt the need to rest and recharge after a full day spent on Rhodes the day before. And, with the imminent ‘Grand Finale’ coming up at Santorini just a few hours down the line, some quality down time spent on the ship was definitely a wise decision.
The beauty here lies in the flexibility of your choices; you can take or leave places- much like sampling a tapas plate- and thus build the kind of trip that appeals to you personally the most. Even on a short trip, this is still your leisure time. Pace it to suit yourself.
At around 40,000 tons, the Celestyal Majesty was the perfect sized ship for cruising the more intimate waters of the Greek Islands. Food in the main dining room was served open seating, just as it was at the two main, upper deck buffets. The food options in all three venues are broadly similar.
The food was fresh, plentiful, and with very good taste in general; it also had a pronounced Mediterranean accent at times, an obvious- and appreciated- attempt to showcase the varied, vibrant cuisine of the region that we were sailing through.
There’s also a more exclusive, extra charge restaurant that offers bespoke dining in a more intimate environment. Located on Deck Five, Le Bistro costs around 20 euros a head. My recommendation? Try the surf and turf; at that price, it’s an absolute steal.
Though the ship was not short of entertainment venues, we almost inevitably graduated to the aft located Polo Club each night, where the top notch entertainment and spot on bar and waiter service kept us happy until the small hours of the morning on most nights. On any cruise, most passengers find one particular, late night bar that they keep going back to, and this one proved to be ours.
Deck space was plentiful on our short trip. We never had problems grabbing either a table, or a couple of sun beds. On sea days, if the upper deck does get crowded, you might want to head down to the promenade on Seven Deck, where you’ll find no shortage of sun loungers stacked near the shade of the lifeboats. It’s a great spot for watching the passing scenery unfold.
We had a cabin on that same deck, and the location is hard to beat. It was an outside room, with twin beds that can convert to a double if needed. There’s a shower and toilet, and ample wardrobe space. In all, these come in at around 170 square feet, and they are more than fine for these short cruises.
You also have the option of going for the smaller outside and inside cabins on Deck Three and Deck Four; these are cheaper but, obviously, you lose a bit of floor space. On the other hand, you’re probably not going to be in that room for very long, in any event. And, as the on board dress code is smart casual to match the itinerary (and the feel of being in the Greek Islands) you won’t need to pack a lot, either.
There are also a few balcony cabins on Deck Eight, and a handful of luxurious, quite roomy suites with balconies forward on Deck Nine. If you’re celebrating a special anniversary- or just looking to maximise your chill out time on board the ship- then one of these could well be a sweet little treat.
Overall, this entire package is pretty damned compelling. It has warmth, charm, excitement, history, hedonism, and a certain degree of effortless elegance about it. And it’s all quite beautifully presented. Highly recommended, as it gifts you so much in such a short space of time. More, in fact, than a great many people get to see over the course of an entire lifetime.
Our final port of call appeared on the horizon to embrace us in mid afternoon. Quite literally, as it turns out.
The Celestyal Majesty first slowed, and then deftly threaded her way between the twin, outstretched arms of the headland of Santorini. In fact, we were sailing through the gap where a catastrophic explosion had blown out the entire side of a vast, brooding volcano, one rumoured to be the site of the legendary, ‘lost city’ of Atlantis, many centuries ago. The glass waters that we sailed through with such supine calm had long since flooded the entire crater of this mute beast.
The evidence of Santorini’s violent past was literally all around us. A two hundred and seventy degree wall of volcanic rock loomed ever larger above the ship, the rim encrusted with what looked like frosted ice at intervals, sat atop some vast, improbable wedding cake. In fact, these are the twin towns of Thira, the capital, and Oia, arguably the prettier of the two.
As we nudged ever closer, the late afternoon sun glinted against that implacable facade, turning the stone grey monster into dazzling shades of red, white, burnt umber, green, and even gold. Long shadows glanced across this ancient bay that had been born of such mercurial violence. I mused idly that our ship must have looked like a toy from up on the lofty heights of Thira.
Soon we’re in a tender, bumbling across the sparkling briny towards a gaggle of motor coaches that sit hunched in the shade of a sun splashed quayside. We board, and begin a slow circuit of the lower half of Santorini, one that gradually takes on a spectacular ascent.
We motor past vineyards clinging grimly to the hillsides, and on past a brace of black, volcanic sand beaches that form a stark contrast to the stunning blue hue of the Aegean that laps almost apologetically at them. Onward and upwards, around spine tingling hair pin bends whose latent terror is only partially neutered by the stunning sky and seascapes now unfolding all around us.
But oh, my, the summit of Santorini is worth all of this…
We debark to see a trio of silent church bells, suspended in a white tower that stands sharp and proud against the early evening sky. There are the inevitable water sellers, and the spine tingling fragrances of hibiscus, jasmine and oleander. A couple of old Tavernas boast rickety wooden tables and chairs in a riot of different colours; they seem to be well patronised by the locals.
And now it’s time for what may well be the ultimate promenade; a gentle saunter among the lofty, brilliantly white washed streets of Oia. There’s a mishmash of tourist shops and high end stores, plus restaurants and bars on parapets that actually seem to be suspended directly above the volcano itself. There are thousands of people, mingling and milling about in these winding, communal tourist traps. Yet the jaw dropping, heart stopping views come without a price tag.
Down below, a haphazard jumble of stone washed white houses, hotels and bars seems to run helter skelter, right down into the Aegean itself. It looks like one vast, riotous explosion of light and beauty that tumbles ever downward at it’s own pace. But it’s the details that really stay in the mind.
Here and there, a small pool nestles in the shade of a courtyard. Some places have over water Jacuzzis. Every so often, the brilliant blue dome of a local church splinters the gorgeous skyline. Some have deck chairs, situated in perfect solitude. Here and there, an ornamental wheelbarrow or similar style of sculpture stands sharp and clear against the evening twilight.
And as the sun begins to sag lethargically behind the caldera, the tone becomes more hushed, awed even. Those brilliant white buildings become a shade of blush, rose red as the sun kisses their smooth facades, casting the entire scene in a wash of gorgeous, powder pink light. On the horizon at Thira, the first evening lights begin to blink like startled glow worms, shining down on the water so far below.
It’s an impossibly mellow mood and moment, with a cold beer to hand, and the best seats in what amounts to the most perfect gallery box ever crafted by Mother Nature. But no man made opera house on Earth can put on a show as spectacular as this one. It’s almost as if Mother Nature is trying to atone for what she did to this beautiful island all those centuries ago.
Somewhere, a startled dog snarls a sleepy growl at an overly friendly tourist. I can vaguely hear the opening bars of My Cherie Amour kicking in from somewhere nearby, as the setting sun glances almost shyly on the waters of the caldera. And the Celestyal Majesty does, indeed, look like a toy boat way down there. Her lights are beginning to come on, and she looks like some incredibly alluring water beetle down on the darkening waters.
An hour later, and our tender is racing back across the ink black briny, kicking up a girdle of foam as the sudden, immense bulk of the ship looms almost directly above us. Now wrapped in that same darkness, the hillside lights of Thira and Oia twinkle like stars, smiling down on us. The air is still as warm as toast and, back on board, one last night of food and fun awaits.
With our morning in Lindos done and dusted, it was time to return to the air conditioned calm of the Celestyal Majesty for lunch.
We grabbed a quick, but much needed bite at the upper deck Piazza San Marco, washed down with a couple of glasses of wine. And, while many people simply elected to stay on the ship for the afternoon, our proximity to it’s beating heart made a wander around old Rhodes Town an irresistible prospect.
Even though most of the big cruise ships had yet to arrive in the region, Rhodes Town was thronged with tourists from across a whole raft of nationalities. It’s a busy, vibrant, buzzing place to visit at almost any time of year and, like any place full of tourists, Rhodes Town has plenty of tourist traps.
Some of the fakery on sale varies from fabulous to farcical. You can buy a ‘genuine’ Rolex, or a ‘real’ suit of armour, as previously worn by one of the Knights Templar themselves. Presumably, the property of one careful owner….
There’s some hustle for sure, but it’s mostly pretty good natured stuff along those winding lanes full of open fronted shops that flank the serpentine, snake like paths that run through the town like it’s very life blood. There are bars, restaurants and cafes everywhere, with their owners only too happy to extend an invite to passing tourists to come and sample their wares. And it often works, too; scores of sunburned tourists sag gratefully into seats in these honey traps like so many puppets with their strings cut. The ground around their feet becomes a slowly rising tide of shopping bags. Food, cold beer and the deadly local ouzo appear table side, as if by magic. The bustle is contagious, and it seems almost borderline mayhem. But for the cafe owners and waiters, it all runs as perfectly as a Swiss watch; they play this moving, milling throng like conductors of an orchestra.
All of this colourful, cosmopolitan carnage could absorb your attention like a sponge, if you didn’t look above it, beyond it. But, when you do, you get to see the real Rhodes Town; the city of myth and legend whose very sinews still stand all around you like so many random exclamation marks, just as they have done since the Fourteenth Century.
Above the street that contains the huge, rebuilt palace of the Grand Masters, a pair of vast, crenellated twin towers scowl across the ages like ancient guard dogs. They jut out like angry, clenched fists at the head of the winding, cobbled lanes of the old town, where the Knights Templar once fought to the death against the invading Ottoman Turks. Rhodes did not fall easily to the invaders; the Knights fought with the desperation of men who felt that they had no way out, though ultimately their surviving rump was granted safe passage to Malta.
A cat sleeps on the seat of a motor scooter left standing in the shade of some ancient, stone stairway that leads up to a jagged line of battlements, seared almost blinding white by centuries of exposure to relentless Aegean sunshine. Children eat ice cream and chase each other around a centuries old fountain that dominates a square long since flooded with cafes, bars and restaurants. The louvred stone arches of a long since vandalised old church stand in the shade of clusters of fragrant wisteria blooms and citrus groves. Rows of gnarled olive trees provide shelter for old men as they enjoy an afternoon playing chess. From somewhere nearby the wheezy, almost whimsical gasp of a battered old accordion fills the streets of old Rhodes Town like some kind of musical sleeping sickness.
Above it all, those old stone walls stand silent and mute, as if in lofty disdain at the antics of the throng, gazing open jawed up at them. It’s the timeless embracing the tireless; history embracing those in search of it, while leaving the impostors firmly in the shade.
And oh my, the ice cold beer is so damned good. It comes served up in glasses shaped like wellington boots in some bars, which the tourists naturally love for the photo opportunities. Borderline tacky maybe, but a lot less so than buying a ‘genuine’ suit of armour in a side street where those who actually wore the real deal lived and, in many cases, died fighting.
Rhodes Town is no one thing; it never was, and never will be. It’s a random jumble of history, hedonism, excess and beauty, wrapped up in the kind of setting that Walter Disney could only have ever dreamed of, and all laid out like some marvellous feast for the senses under a benevolent, springtime sky. In all, a town that stays with you long, long, after you actually leave it behind.
Already a firm favourite with passengers on short cruises out of Florida, Royal Caribbean’s popular Bahamian ‘private island’ at Coco Cay is set for a whole raft of enhancements that would lead to it becoming an overnight port of call in the not too distant future.
A dedicated pier that will allow ships to actually dock rather than tender in, has already been green lighted. But a new, $200 million investment- aptly named ‘Perfect Day’- will see the island morph into something that is one part resort, one part theme park.
Due to open this summer, Phase One will showcase a large, freshwater pool, no less than ten water slides, a hot air balloon experience, zip lining, and even a large wave pool. Once these are in place, calls to Coco Cay will be extended to 2300 at night on some sailings.
Phase Two would involve the rolling out of some overnight stays on the island. In fact, RCCL has not ruled out the possibility of multiple overnight stays in the not too distant future. And, while most passengers would still be accommodated on the ship itself, Royal Caribbean is also looking at the construction of ten high level, cabana style suites ashore for overnight visitors.
As for RCCL’s other ‘private island’ at Labadee, it too is in line for a series of as yet unspecified upgrades and enhancements to keep it on a level par with Coco Cay.
Perhaps most alluring of all, Royal Caribbean is actively looking to acquire another small private island, this time in the Far East. While details are scarce, it’s probably safe to assume that this island would be developed in a similar way to the Bahamaian duo, with suitable tweaks being made to make it amenable to the local cruise market.
Discussions are active and, according to the cruise line, are now at an advanced stage. At the time of writing, Royal Caribbean is hoping to make a definitive announcement this coming July.
Interesting times. As ever, stay tuned for details.
While Rhodes Town itself gets great, deserved kudos as one of the must-see sights in the Aegean, it is not the only banner highlight on the island of Rhodes itself. Anyone who doubts that should come with me on the short, forty minute bus ride to the picturesque little idyll that is Lindos.
That journey alone is something else, as your coach meanders along and past low rolling hillsides, sprinkled here and there with clumps of plane and olive trees. Off to the other side, the early morning Aegean sparkles like freshly polished glass.
Lindos itself is compact, charming and quirky, a cluster of brilliant white houses, bars and shops set mid way between a dusky, honey coloured beach, and the looming bulk of the Acropolis that stands on the headland. The cumulative effect is of blue, white and gold layers that sit in petrified splendour under the springtime Aegean sun. Taken separately, each is memorable. When combined, the sum effect is truly mind blowing.
You can meander quite happily through the pretty little town, with it’s twisting lanes and roof top cafes. It’s all here; small hotels and breakfast bars selling delicious crepes with hot chocolate sauce. You can buy everything, from an ‘authentic’ carved Greek icon to an ice cream that’s far more faith inducing.
The pace here is slower, more mellow than in Rhodes Town. Indeed, there’s a feeling here that Lindos somehow hangs in mid air, effortlessly suspended somewhere between time and space.
And then your eyes are drawn upwards, as if on magnets, to the looming, ruined mass of the Acropolis, perching over the sea like some petrified stone dragon, there to protect the town below from invaders.
The climb is hair raising, but utterly compelling. Three hundred and three steps in all, with the cobalt blue splay of the Aegean as a backdrop. Gradually, pine trees give way to the shelter afforded by vast, looming battlements in shades of honey coloured stone, bleached by literally centuries of pitiless Aegean sunshine. Once at the summit, the whole, ruined majesty of the Acropolis spreads out at your feet. It looks like some massive toy, destroyed in a fit of anger by a petulant, vengeful god. It’s jaw dropping, awe inspiring, and more than just a little sad, too.
Stunted Doric columns loom up against the sky like great, accusing fingers. The Acropolis was successively improved upon over the centuries by the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantines, the Knights Templar and, ultimately, the Ottoman Turks. The result is a trashed, tremendous, medieval time machine whose overall stance simply blows the beholder away.
The views down into the sea do nothing to detract from the aura of this ruined Olympian theme park. Small white boats making for the shelter of secluded caves look like tiny water beetles scurrying for cover. Clouds in the sky float by like fleets of great, ghostly galleons. The overall effect is brilliant, breathtaking, and impossible to be blase about.
Back down near the coach park, an ice cold beer was sheer bliss. It gave me pause to think that, if ever the makers of Kodak Film had built a testing ground for all of their products, then they could hardly have done better than Lindos, with it’s marvellous, muted stance.
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