If you’re thinking of a three-generation family cruise, I have some advice for you

When my grandma comes to visit from Mumbai, it always provokes much fanfare. Her calendar is rapidly flooded with trips to see relatives and friends, so trying to get one-on-one time is a real challenge. That’s why, this year, my mum decided a family cruise was the best way to block out a week, just us. So, I found myself at Southampton Cruise terminal in early June, with my 66-year-old mum, 41-year-old brother and 90-year-old grandma in tow. Of the four, I was the rookie at 39 years old. My mum had been on a cruise in Vancouver, my brother in the Caribbean. My grandma was the most seasoned, having sailed in both Alaska and Panama. Now, we were on the cusp of a joint adventure, and the excitement was palpable. We were all smiles as we boarded Norwegian Sun, the 2,400-capacity vessel we were queuing to board. Shorts We’d booked a seven-day voyage that sailed from Southampton to Zeebrugge in Belgium, then Ijmuiden in the Netherlands. From there, we would spend a day and a half at sea as the ship skimmed over Denmark before reaching Kiel, Germany. Our penultimate stop would be Warnemünde, also in Germany, before finishing in Copenhagen, Denmark where we’d catch a flight back to Heathrow. While I had suggested a laidback UK staycation, my mum was insistent on a cruise. We wouldn’t have to worry about getting from A to B, she reasoned, and we’d have a variety of activities, entertainment, and food all built into the $404pp (£298) fare. It seems plenty of other travellers have the same idea. Research published this year by Cruise Lines International Association (CLIA) found that 15 per cent of passengers travelled in a group made of three generations. The latter was particularly crucial for my grandma, a lifelong Jain. The faith stipulates not only a vegetarian diet, but omitting root vegetables such as onion, potato and garlic, too. No problem in Mumbai, where she lives, but try finding non-Indian restaurants that cater to a strict Jain diet in the UK (let alone in unfamiliar cities in other countries). “Cruise kitchens”, my mum explained, “are used to making meals that tick all the boxes”. What’s more, she told me, cruise ships tend to have a lot of Indian crew, and so have a granular understanding of what’s required. My mum made sure Norwegian knew about my grandma’s dietary requirements when she booked. Poornima H. Shah was well looked after in the ship’s restaurants Turns out she was right: the Indian crew members treated my grandma like a queen. Jain dishes were cooked to order, the chef coming out to check it was to her taste. Anything she didn’t like wouldn’t make a repeat appearance. She ended one dinner triple packed with desserts, her sweet tooth never happier. “We’re away at sea for months at the time,” Santosh, the restaurant manager of the on-board restaurant Seven Seas, said, “so it’s lovely to meet passengers who share my mother tongue. It reminds me of home”. Despite a few language challenges for my grandma on board an English-speaking cruise, we enjoyed cabaret and bingo together, the finer points of which I tried to explain in Gujarati, triggering good-natured eye-rolling from the rest of my clan (I’m rusty). We played roulette in the casino; we strolled along the deck at sunset. When my grandma needed to relax, we did sheet masks in the cabin she shared with my mum (I shared with my brother), or sat around chatting. Yet, despite everything that worked about the holiday, I reckon it will be our first and last cruise as a quartet. While my grandma is still mobile, she gets tired very quickly. A back injury from a few years ago massively knocked her confidence; I can feel anxiety emanating from her when we’re in crowds or bad weather. One of us always takes her hand for reassurance while the others look for quiet spots where she can take a breather. She’s skittish around strangers or instances where she might have to hurry, like in queues or crossing the street. Distances were the biggest obstacle on our cruise holiday. Headline attractions were miles from the cruise terminal, easy for younger passengers, but in nonagenarian terms, a marathon. My solution? Booking cabs into smaller, less crowded towns where we could run on our own timetable while maximising time in port. Travelling in cabs also lessened my panic about being back in time for the ship’s departure. The family decided to visit smaller, quieter places, such as Haarlem in the Netherlands (Photo: Allard Schager/Moment RF/Getty) We explored Haarlem instead of Amsterdam; slower paced, but just as pretty. Copenhagen’s sightseeing bus stopped beside the quay, making getting to popular spots like Nyhavn and the Little Mermaid statue simple. Warnemünde, home of artist Edvard Munch, charmed us most. Lined with little bars, cafes and a sandy beach, we could have been in the Med, not a north German port town. Why bother with the three-hour train down to Berlin from Warnemünde when we could eat local cherries and people-watch by the canal? When my grandma needed a lie-down, we were back on the ship in 10 minutes. Cruise excursions were considered, but swiftly ruled out. They were either all-day affairs, didn’t tickle everyone’s interests, or prohibitively expensive (I’m talking £400pp at the top end, virtually the cost of the actual cruise) – especially for four of us. Ultimately, it wasn’t that sort of holiday. It was about creating new memories, the location simply serving as a backdrop. We can visit Hamburg whenever, but when would we get this time with my grandma again? As low effort as we tried to make things, and though she never complained, I could tell it was an exhausting week for my grandma. Visiting the family home a week later, she seemed happier pottering around, fixing lunch, and snaffling ice cream on the sofa, comfort winning over wanderlust. It demonstrated that we don’t need a cruise for quality family time; we can drop anchor anywhere.