IT is peak frangipani season in Darwin, the huge waxy blooms gleaming white in the dusk, a scent of almonds in the warm air. We are strolling back to our ship through this modern city, capital of the Northern Territory at the top end of Australia, after a day of top moments.
That morning, we were privileged to catch an exhibition of powerful and moving work by Aboriginal and islander artists. These were the winners of this year's national art awards, each piece redolent of the stories, totems and dreamscapes of the artist's own country. And this evening, at a tiny, tuckedaway Sri Lankan restaurant called Ella by Minoli, I tasted one of the most sublime dishes in a dedicated epicurean life: cured snapper in a painterly pool of coconut cream and curry-leaf oil-together with the flakiest, most succulent and plump roti any of us had ever eaten.
We are now three days into our voyage; we have toured Lombok, fragrant with honey scents of mimosa and ripening mango, and visited the island home of the komodo dragon, largest and most venomous of lizards. Tomorrow's excitement is a trip down a crocodile-infested river. By now, however, I'm longing for what I've learnt is called a 'sea day' of sailing with no stops. I want to explore this ship thoroughly, because I've never been on a cruise before. I'm on my maiden voyage.
Veterans of life aboard are astonished: 'Oh you'll love it,' they say. When we meet again, they ask how I am liking it.
Let me count the ways: the Nordic-designed interior is civilised, elegant and thoughtfully curated; there is original art on the walls (you can do your own tour with headphones) and little niches of books—almost wherever you sit, there is something within reach to read. I worried I hadn't brought enough frocks, but it's not that sort of ship: no captain's table, no casino (the soft click of mahjong tiles is more the vibe), only a small nightspot for a late cocktail and a boogie.
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