If the norovirus
outbreak on the cruise ship Oriana doesn't put you off, how about being trapped
in irresponsible tourism hell
As disease incubators
go, cruise ships are pretty darned effective. The latest ship to turn into a
giant mobile sickbag is the Oriana, which has just returned to
Southampton after lurching around the Baltic with a norovirus outbreak. More than 300 passengers are reported to
have gone down with the vomiting bug.
This is by no means
the first time a cruise has gone a bit Killer on Board; norovirus outbreaks have hit ships in Florida, Canada and the Mediterranean. In 2009, the Pacific Dawn was quarantined to a tiny island then diverted to Brisbane after becoming
awash with swine flu.
Booking a cruise is essentially
buying a ticket for a plague ship lottery. Confine large numbers of people in a
relatively small space – after letting them savour the germs of a new country
every day – and the probability of a vomit bonanza is pretty high.
But the disturbingly
high chance of being on a nausea-riddled norovirus gulag is not the only reason
to give the giant cruise liners a wide berth. Here are five reasons to leave
cruising off your travel agenda:
1. You'll 'see the world', but without seeing anything at all
Cruising is a way to
see the world in bitesize snippets so small that they're effectively pointless.
Watch cruise ship passengers in a town like Dubrovnik, and the methodology is
crystal clear. They get off the ship, wait for a bus to the Old Town, then aimlessly
wander around the Old Town taking a few photos and eating bad pizza. A few
hours later, they form gigantic queues to get a bus back to the ship, and sail
off again to do the same thing somewhere else the next day.
It's a surefire way to
get practically zero appreciation of the places you're visiting. At best it's a
hurried highlights reel, taking photos of things you can later explain nothing
about.
2. You'll run the risk of ending up in a hermetically-sealed
cruise passenger pen
Number one, of course,
assumes you're docking at a destination that has something to see in the first
place. In the Caribbean and Central America, there are many "towns"
that exist solely for cruise ships to dock at. Passengers getting off at Puerto
Quetzal in Guatemala or Puerto Limon in Nicaragua will find little to do aside
from duty-free shopping or pre-organised tour bus excursions.
The most appalling
example of this is Labadee in Haiti, where passengers are completely sealed off
from the troubled country around them, and left to shop or sunbathe for the day
in a resort owned by the cruise company.
3. You will lose your status as an individual
When a ship belches
out 1,000 people all wanting to tick off a highlights reel of whatever
destination they're at, personalisation is never going to be a strong point.
Hence the gigantic groups following a tour guide's umbrella, listening to a
basic script that gets repeated daily, in every cruise port. And that's before
you delve into the time-sapping logistics of getting everyone on and off the
ship. Sign up for a large cruise ship, and you're effectively signing away your
status as an individual human being for the duration.
4. It's irresponsible tourism by default
If you give even the
smallest fig for responsible tourism, then cruising is the diametric opposite. Very little money makes its way to the
communities visited when passengers eat most meals on the ship, shop at
company-owned duty free shops and go on excursions organised by the cruise
line.
The ships also have an
appalling environmental impact, both in terms ofCO2 emitted and
the amount of rubbish and waste water dumped into the oceans.
And, in a political
climate where companies are hounded about their tax contributions, cruise companies
shouldn't be let off the hook. Ships sail under Panamanian and Liberian flags
for tax avoidance purposes, despite the companies clearly being based
elsewhere. Carnival Cruises – the biggest cruise company in the world and owner
of the Costa and P&O brands – paid just 1.1% in corporate taxes on US$11.3bn profits in the last five years.
5. You're trapped with people who like cruises
For all the quality of
experience, environmental and ethical arguments, the real hell of cruising
revolves around the people you're stuck on the boat with. Despite multi-million
pound marketing campaigns portraying cruising as something for everyone, a
quick visual check in Venice, St Vincent or Vanuatu will confirm that most
passengers conform to the grey-haired, buffet-savaging stereotype.
And on every ship,
there will a large proportion of cruise bores. They are the people who have no
conversation other than listing the cruises they've been on, and the places
they have been to as a result. They can offer no insight into those places
beyond saying what a lovely time they had.
You really, really do
not want to be trapped next to one of these people at dinner.
With a few honourable
exceptions, cruising is for the lazy and the culturally disinterested; people
perhaps better suited to two weeks in a beach resort that have convinced
themselves they're doing something far more worthy and adventurous.
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