My teacher parents, after laying down their chalk and retiring, got a taste for cruises. Holidays had never been better. Then Mum’s best shipmate died – suddenly, horribly – leaving her in a strange new world.
Summers lost their shine, well, everything did, but she’d still gaze longingly at cruise deals. Enter: me. The busy, messy, wild middle-aged child, offering to share a cabin on a week-long MSC Mediterranean cruise. I’d been promising her a proper catch-up for ages, and this was one way of doing it.
Multi-generational holidays, with younger kids, parents and grandparents, are nothing new – a study showed a third of adults have been on one in the past three years, with the Boomer generation generally picking up the bill. And MSC says 28% of its travellers now cruise with three to five generations, and its ships are designed with activities to suit all ages.
But this was different – a “mummer” holiday – proper bonding time, with grandchildren at home. Gavin and Stacey’s Ruth Jones goes on cruises with her mum and no one had been thrown overboard, so the combination could work.
Mum and I flew to Rome and met MSC Seaview at Civitavecchia Port. We woke up every day in a new location – Majorca, Barcelona, Cannes, Genoa, and La Spezia – before sailing back to Rome. This was my first cruise, so it was completely uncharted waters. We spent the first day at sea, getting lost and acquainted with Seaview’s 19 decks, waterfront boardwalk, and dizzying, glass-floored Bridge of Sighs.
Seaview was launched in 2017 and has room for 4,100 passengers and 1,000 crew, with a theatre, casino, spa, ten-pin bowling, indoor and outdoor pools, hot tubs and 19 lounges and bars, including a chocolate-themed one. There wasn’t a tired-looking part of the ship, save our faces on day one. The atrium is its classy party core, spanning four decks, where there’s live music and staircases that sparkle like the sea thanks to hundreds of Swarovski crystals in each step.
A cheery mix of ages and nationalities onboard, too – MSC is an Italian-Swiss line, so lots of “fit Italian fellas”, as my 76-year-old mother, Janet, noted. The daytime noise, games and kids’ splashy-and-sporty zones are considerately confined to deck 16, with its Panorama pool and 425ft zip wire – I strapped in and squealed high above sunbathers, while Mum declined the offer, but took thrilling footage of my ankles.
Technology is not Janet’s strong point, but she had a go, with me as tech support, scanning her first-ever QR code to read the evening menus at our allocated Silver Dolphin restaurant, where she also had her first taste of octopus and dolphinfish (thankfully no relation to Flipper).
She was eventually able to navigate the useful MSC app, smart lifts and touch screens dotted around the decks, where you can access information about the ship and your itinerary. Only one trip to the IT desk onboard was required – very much user error.
Pulling back the curtains to a new place each morning felt like a dream. Majorca was a revelation for her, wandering sleepy, sun-dappled cobbled streets, me saying “watch your step” every step of the way. We cooed at the cathedral, sniffed bougainvillea, and tried on fedoras and sunglasses. Janet loves to shop, and dilly-dally, and talk to anyone who will listen, whether they speak English or not. I’m used to racing about, herding young kids, but by virtue of her wonky knees, we stopped for coffees and ice-cream, and actually finished conversations.
Early starts to disembark paid off, as we were back on board to catch a theatre show and seek out the champagne bar – Mum’s favourite place to wet her whistle. Our package allowed for 15 drinks each day, which I dare anyone to manage.
Barcelona brought more laughter. It was a short shuffle to the stalls of La Rambla, for a long shuffle around the famous La Boquería market, heaving with people, pastries, olives, strawberries… and unmentionable meat counters. My stomach, having valiantly tried to hit my 15-a-day the night before, was ill-prepared for the offal, eyes, teeth and tongues.
Stomachs settled down on board. While evening meals at the main restaurant were hit and miss, the two speciality restaurants smashed it – Butcher’s Cut (excellent surf and turf) and our favourite, the Teppanyaki restaurant, where Japanese dishes were cooked in front of us and chef Rafael put on a high-energy show, serenading us with with Tina Turner, juggling eggs and pulling surprises from his hat, before throwing morsels at my mum’s mouth, and somehow missing.
Twin beds had been arranged for us, and drifting off at night was easy – a surprise as we’re both used to sleeping solo. Our cabin, on deck 11, near the panoramic lift, had enough space to swing a dog, and was blessed with a balcony, sofa, safe, mini bar, interactive TV, and an impressive en suite with a powerful shower. Admirable storage, too, where Mum could hide her eight pairs of shoes, most of which didn’t touch foreign soil.
Here, I was the brains (though that’s debatable) and brawn, sorting excursions, dragging bags and retracing many, many steps when we’d lost things. Mum, however, was the bringer of order in our cabin. She’s used to running a tight ship at home, whereas I just about tread water.
We settled into a Bert and Ernie evening routine at bedtime, with silly jokes and unsolicited relationship advice. Any accounts of my snoring should be immediately discounted – and we can now laugh about her falling over my phone charger cable on a 1am flit to the loo.
When her bed called for her earlier than mine, I sampled late-night Seaview, its White Party (where guests wear white clothes), silent disco, gay night and karaoke, and watched couples dance or just gazed at the moon.
It was really special to wake up, reach out and hold hands in the morning, even if it was then followed by a dash to the mighty breakfast buffet to stuff ourselves and race for the tender. Which we almost missed to Cannes, which was busy setting up for the film festival.
We paused for A-list-price orange juice (Janet: “27 euros for three orange juices?! I wanted a drink not the whole plantation”) and sauntered past Dior and Chanel stores down glamorous Boulevard de La Croisette, for a paddle in the Med among the beautiful people, with Seaview in the distance. There, was Mum probably the only person singing “I do like to be beside the seaside”, with chocolate ice cream down her best vest. “She’s restless like the sea, your mother,” my dad once beautifully said. These days, you’d call it undiagnosed ADHD.
We had two excursions booked in (“school trips for grown-ups!”) and saved ours for last, on our two Italian stop-offs. From Genoa, which shares the St George’s Cross flag, and is birthplace of that other hardy sailor, Christopher Columbus, we took a bus to the fishing village of Camogli, with its double-take dreamy buildings and clanging church bells, catching a boat to tiny Portofino, loved by Tom Hanks and Michelle Obama for its snorkelling, and where Dolce and Gabbana have a villa retreat. We, however, had free ice-cream vouchers, so we felt like life’s real stars.
The swooniness continued, arriving in La Spezia, for our seven-hour Italian Riviera Cinque Terre tour, via bus, boat, train and Shank’s pony. Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore – a string of five famously pretty ancient fishing villages on rugged coastline, dripping with vineyards, charm and surprising colour – are such head-turners they’re now a Unesco World Heritage Site.
We got bonus beauty, too, with a guided wander around Portovenere, the Port of Venus, to load up on heavenly pesto and focaccia. It’s the jewel of the Bay of Poets, an area that stirred the souls of Shelley and Byron. Dad would have loved it.
The boat trip was magical, the train from Monterosso back to Genoa a hoot, the final push to the bus, herding a tired, sweaty pensioner in the 26C heat, less so. “Are we there, yet, Kay?” Talk about role reversal. It was an early night for both of us for the trip back to Rome, and our flight back home. Time had flown – we’d been having too much fun.
We also got friendly with a psychologist from New York (her services were not needed) who was there with her older mum for a belated Mother’s Day treat – they’d upgraded to the Yacht Club premium experience, including 24-hour butler service and gourmet dining.
Four countries in seven days felt wild, especially as I work from home and struggle to visit four rooms in a week. But it was the enforced closeness with Mum that made it so special – a reminder to make memories before that ship has sailed.
Book the Holiday
A seven-night MSC cruise from Rome visiting: Palma de Mallorca (Baleari Is), Spain; Barcelona, Spain; Cannes (Côte d’Azur), France; Genoa (Portofino), Italy; La Spezia (Cinque Terre), Italy costs from £1,399.
Visit msccruises.co.uk
