Caroliner

JonV:

So funny to have you mention that little blue glass plate with Carnival's original trio of ships. Mine sits before me on my desk, a prized memento from over a quarter-century ago.

They really were the original "fun" ships, and I can still taste the Spaghetti Carbonara from my very first voyage.

Host Doug:

Thank you for the greeting !

Matsonia's Dining Room was even then named 'Waikiki' in 1963, and I gathered that it was just never changed.

My voyage was in the days when sailing from Honolulu was truly an event. As we were moving back to the mainland, my parents hosted a true 'bon voyage' party that filled our two outside cabins and the short hallway that led to them. All five of us emerged on deck covered in leis of plumeria and orchids for the actual departure.

Sailing then from the Aloha Tower was still a social and community spectacle. Hula dancers on the pier, masses of streamers, friends waving and crying, and over it all, as the ship drifted away from the dock, the heart-wrenching notes of "Aloha Oe" as the band serenaded and the crowd sang the words by heart.

Escorted by catamarans and speedboats, friends and strangers, the ship made a long slow passage along Waikiki and headed out past Diamond Head. Then, along the ship's promenades and across the open decks, hundreds of passengers, many with tears in their eyes, would step forward to the rail in ones, twos and families or groups, slowly remove a lei from their neck, and drop the flowers overboard, watching for the blossoms to drift towards shore, guaranteeing a return to Hawai'i someday. A magical experience!

Another time, another place, but the same ship !

Over forty years ago, July of 1963, I sailed from Honolulu to Los Angeles/Long Beach with my parents and brothers on the then-Matsonia, later Lurline..........and finally, Britannis.

Move on to January, 1988. While waiting to tender back to QE2 in Cartagena on a transcanal cruise, my mother and I sat enjoying a drink at the Colombian Navy Yacht Club. As we watched, a classically beautiful white liner with X-marked stacks approached from the sea. My mother commented on the ship, remarking on its lines and sense of presence, momentarily unaware that she had sailed on her a quarter-century previously.

I think Chandris even kept the "Waikiki" name for the dining room from the Matson days, and I still have photos from that wonderful voyage.

Personally, I think for a great ship to die at sea is somehow appropriate and comforting. The prospect of the breakup yard is so unworthy.