No, this isn’t one of those articles written after the event, where you only pretend you’re writing from an exotic dateline but you’ve actually since got home.
Tallinn, Estonia
No, this isn’t one of those articles written after the event, where you only pretend you’re writing from an exotic dateline but you’ve actually since got home. This time I really can see the Ruritanian towers of Tallinn’s old city reflected in the mirror in front of my writing desk. The evening sun — which will go on for hours and hours at this latitude at this time of year — is shimmering on the Baltic. And here I am in my cabin, about to put on black tie, ready for dinner at one of the umpteen five-star restaurants on this fabulous cruise ship, the Crystal Serenity, which was recently voted by Condé Nast Traveller the best in the world.
But still I know that, to quite a few of my British friends, the thing I’m doing would sound like hell on sea. That’s because most of the passengers on this cruise are rich Americans — worse still, rich, conservative Americans. And you’re not supposed to like them, are you? They’re one of the few categories of people left that it’s still generally acceptable to be rude about. They’re vulgar, they’re brash, they’re far too religious, and they’re quite insanely, dangerously right-wing.
Are they though? Are they really insane and dangerous? Here are my impressions of what rich, conservative Americans are like, based on a day or two’s intensive interaction with them. They like: sunshine; good food; sport; friendly service; having a flutter at the gaming tables; nice old buildings; learning new things; politeness; hanging out with like-minded folk; holidays; fun.
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