Caribbean princess cruise ship

CHEERS, hooting, and whistling resounded from the shoreline of Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., as the gigantic white Regal Princess glided from the pier toward the open sea. This new dolphin-shaped, 70,000-ton Princess Cruises' ship has an amusing interrelationship with residents of the nearby towering condominiums. They enjoy saluting the departing vessel every Saturday on its way to eastern and western Caribbean itineraries. A few even display a Princess Cruises' banner, and Capt. Cesare Ditel, in turn, acknowledges them with a few blasts on the ship's horn.

On previous voyages, I always had squeezed into the crowded throngs on deck during departure. Not so on Regal Princess! From the spacious comfort of a private veranda outside my stateroom, I now relished the unobstructed view of the harbor. Other ships took turns inching their way through the narrow channel to the sea, while small motorboats daringly darted across their paths. Returning fishing vessels joined in the cacophony of toots as they saluted Regal Princess.

No matter what time of day, my veranda added immeasurably to cruising pleasure. Early mornings found me outside in pajamas to determine the weather conditions. Afternoons, I could recline on the comfortable white lounges, often falling into a soothing, refreshing doze. Evenings were superb as sunsets changed from pale pink to deep orange and red, casting romantic shimmers on the darkening waters. Of course, I never tired of watching the white foamy froth pushing away from the ship as she steamed ahead, or observing the careful gliding past stone breakwaters before tying up in tropical waters.

Enjoying the sights from my veranda of new ports of call, I naturally was intrigued to step ashore. When the ship finally tied up in Montego Bay, Jamaica, I looked forward to experiencing another form of sailing--mountain valley rafting.

Outside of the city, my minivan climbed narrow, bumpy roads chiseled through green jungles to reach the rafting site. To the rhythms of a lively three-piece Calypso band, tourists sauntered down the hillside in pairs to board the two-seater rafts at the river's edge. Young Jamaicans positioned themselves at the front of each green-and-beige bamboo raft, laced together with wires. While water sloshed over bare feet, each pilot cautiously dipped a bamboo pole from side to side in the racing current to avoid collisions with submerged rocks and boulders that pierced the surface. During the one-hour trip, the raft entered a tranquil area where the river flowed more gently. An overwhelming quietude pervaded the calm scene. Birds melodiously punctured the silence. Overhead, vultures circled.

Dense jungle foliage covered the river banks. Rows of native palm, breadfruit, banana, and coffee trees reached for the strong sun. At Rhea's World plantation, where my raft tied up at journey's end, I was able to sample liquors made from banana, coffee, coconut, and sugar cane. Throughout the plantation's pastoral grounds were carefully tended gardens of flowering red hibiscus, red ginger, white anthurium, pineapple plants, and groves of bamboo, banana, and palm trees.

Northwest of Jamaica are the Cayman Islands, part of Princess Cruises' itinerary in the western Caribbean. Outside the capital of George Town, I found an unusual house painstakingly decorated with horizontal rows of conch shells. Farther north, Seven Mile Beach presented peaceful vistas of turquoise and blue waters, lapping at invitingly clean white sand.

The most fascinating visit was to the Cayman Turtle Farm, a state-run hatchery featuring thousands of green sea turtles. They ranged in size from six ounces in small pens to 600-pounders that swam in large pools, occasionally poking their heads above the water. The primary purpose of this hatchery is to release the grown turtles into their natural habitat, thus contributing to an increase in the species' population.

I literally went to Hell in the Caymans when I stopped at a small northwestern village with that surprising, but appropriate, name. Thrusting through a watery wasteland adjoining the village were acres of gray, sharp, jagged rock formations. This implausible, bleak landscape that starkly contrasted with the island's otherwise lushly growing trees and foliage was regarded by the islanders as a manifestation of what hell looks like. Understandably, a small post office does a thriving business in postcards bearing the infamous postmark.

The Mayan world

A unique peek into the pre-Columbian world was made possible when our ship arrived off the Yucatan peninsula of modern Mexico. After a brief ferry ride to the fishing village of Playa del Carmen, I was driven south 36 miles to Tulum, the only coastal city built by the Maya. Their civilization once stretched from what is now southern Mexico through Guatemala and Belize.

Outlined with black mortar, the white limestone walls surrounded Tulum's ancient ruins and structures. A vertical stele, or slab, containing Mayan inscriptions was covered by a small circular roof of palm leaves. Archaeological artistry was found in a flat, sculptured profile of a Mayan god, which wrapped around the corner of one building, giving this huge face a two-dimensional look. Time had eroded many bas-reliefs on other structures, but fully preserved was one warrior, descending head first. A few buildings featured decorative columns, long flights of steps, and towers.

I was fascinated by the Mayan knowledge of engineering. While Romans constructed archways with a wedge-like keystone at the summit for support, the Maya bridged two sides of an arch with a single, large horizontal stone.

Their knowledge of astronomy was manifested in the mathematically precise placement of a single small opening in a temple wall facing east to capture the rays of the rising sun every morning. Tracking the sun in this way permitted the Maya to follow the changing seasons, indicating when to plant and harvest their most important crop, maize.

Through the portals of a one-story temple could be seen two black handprints on a stone wall. Apparently, these were placed there in ancient times so that, when the Maya pressed their own hands against these imprints, curative powers supposedly would heal any illness.

Tulum's most imposing structure is "El Castillo" (the castle), a temple set atop a pyramidal base containing a long flight of steps. This was a perfect example of typical Mayan architecture of impressive proportions. A gusty wind whipped its hilly perch overlooking the turquoise Caribbean. In a rocky cove below, semi-nude bathers frolicked in the surf. Oblivious to all, steel-gray iguanas rested on the rocks.

After a luncheon stop at Xel-Ha, site of a sacred Mayan lagoon, a bus returned to Playa del Carmen for a ferry ride to Cozumel Island off the coast of Mexico to rejoin the Regal Princess at dockside.

The ship's more popular eastern Caribbean itinerary included Nassau, Bahamas; San Juan, Puerto Rico; and St. Thomas, Virgin Islands--all with exceptional beaches. For those who preferred to avoid the sun and stay dry, visiting historical sites was an alternative.

In Nassau, I climbed steep, narrow stone steps to the top of Fort Fincastle (built in the 18th century) for a panoramic view of the harbor and delicate pink, blue, green, and yellow houses and public buildings, all charmingly trimmed in white. Miles away, arching over the horizon, was Paradise Island Bridge, leading to elegant resorts. I also descended 64 steps of the Queen's staircase, which required 600 Negro slaves to carve out the 102-foot opening between two cliffs that precipitously dropped to the manmade valley below. At the top of the cliffs were large trees with roots dramatically stretching like tentacles down the sides to the deep floor of the excavation. Laboring for 16 years, the slaves cut out this long gap, providing much-needed limestone for the island's buildings. The steep staircase was named for Queen Victoria, who abolished slavery in the Bahamas.

Built in 1789 and named after the wife of King George III, Fort Charlotte provided an insight into the horrible living conditions for soldiers and prisoners of the 18th century. After crossing a dry moat, I entered a darkened world of poorly ventilated barracks and a dark dungeon where prisoners were tortured on the rack.