THE GRACEFUL PRINCESS

Cabin Comfort

The cabins are huge, some of the largest I have ever seen on any ship. My mini-suite had authentic, period wood-panelling and a full-size bed in a separate partition.

A trio of huge square windows flooded the room with light during the day.

Interestingly, the bathroom was tiled, and set at a right angle to the bed rather than the customary location just inside the cabin door. It took a few days to get used to.

There was no shortage of storage space either, along with a marvellous sitting area that boasted a sofa and two huge, chunky chairs that were pure 1950s style; the sort you sink into – pun intentional – rather than sit on.

As rooms go, it was supremely comfortable, and very hard to leave.

Many of the cabins are actually quite large suites, and there is a group of six balcony suites on the upper deck that are just out of this world, with angular verandas jutting out above the rows of lifeboats.

The public rooms are few but finely styled. My favourite was a small conservatory at the stern. Filled with wicker furniture, it stood on a teak deck that curved right around what I can only describe as a real cruiser stern. Here, the gentle vibration of the propellers and a glass of wine at sunset combined to provide one of the most sublime, soulful shipboard experiences anywhere today.

The main lounge was flanked by a couple of graceful corridors lined with windows and tables and chairs. This was a definite QE2 flashback if ever there was one. Aft of this, there is a large bar-cum-card room, with a tartan carpet and honey-coloured, winged chairs and sofas that just begged you to relax. Throw in Hannibal, barman extraordinaire, and you had one of the most eclectic retreats on the ocean.

Hannibal worked for many years aboard the old Norway (ex-SS France) and his stock of amazing stories brought back some wonderful memories.

The main dining room is a single storey chamber, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides. While the menus are not as extensive as modern ships, the food and service were unfailingly good. The restaurant ran as smoothly as a Swiss watch and, because our voyage was a French charter, table wine was free with both lunch and dinner each day.

But what really marks out the Princess Danae is the exceptional hospitality factor on board. The senior officers and staff are mostly Portuguese and were constantly to be seen in the passenger areas, checking on dinner tables and, in general, giving the ship a quality and sense of presence that cannot be artificially manufactured. Professional to a fault, they were charming and agreeable hosts, and contributed hugely to the wonderful atmosphere that permeated the whole ship.

On the upper decks, both breakfast and lunch could be taken in the sun. The Aegean that late autumn was obligingly benign and, because of the limited size of the ship, there was the real feeling of eating at some charming seaside café. Groups of tables filled the deck aft of the pool, each sporting a bright yellow parasol that sometimes flapped lazily in the breeze. It was like being at some small, intimate resort with everything almost within touching distance.

This experience was enhanced by the complete lack of announcements over the loudspeaker system. On the Danae, passengers are generally just allowed to get on with their days as they please and, again, this represented a real throwback to a more genteel style of voyaging.

‘At the HEART OF ALL THIS, there exists a kind of ROBUST HONESTY and lack of pretension that is TRULY HEART-WARMING’

Though nothing was forced on us, there was more than enough to do if the mood had taken us. But, for the majority, just lounging on those sun-splashed upper decks or taking a quick dip in the pool was entertainment enough. I loved every minute of it.

If what you want is all-day parties in state-of-the-art discos with late-night casino action, this is not your vessel. The style and pace are altogether more laid back and, in so many ways, this just helps to embellish the charm of life on board.

As we surged around our quintet of Turkish and Israeli ports of call, the crew was constantly at work varnishing, sanding and painting all over the ship. Maintaining vessels of this vintage is a huge task, and one not to be underestimated. Finish one cycle, and you can almost guarantee it will be time to start again elsewhere.

Yet the care and effort that they lavish on this ship is evident in every nook and cranny. Equally, the cost of maintaining these vessels is correspondingly high, and would probably induce nose bleeds in accounts’ departments of the mainstream cruise lines.

But, at the heart of all this, there exists a kind of robust honesty and lack of pretension that is truly heart-warming. The Princess Danae and her fleet-mates do not pretend to be luxury ships, laden with goodies and round-the-clock diversions for all age groups.

It is not unreasonable to describe them as an acquired taste. Nor is it unreasonable to say that, having acquired that taste, passengers might well just become so charmed and enamoured of what is on board they will keep coming back for more.

It is all here; the gentle creak of wood-panelling on a slowly rolling sea; the subtle throb of the engines below decks; and the always bewitching sight of that graceful bow, rising and falling with almost hypnotic rhythm as it races purposefully towards a flaring Aegean sunset.

For those smitten by the timeless romance of the sea, I would venture to suggest your ship might just possibly have come in. Bon voyage!