
The King's Court restaurant area -- the use of the word "Court"
may be ill-advised, evoking at least for USAmericans the moiling mess
of shopping mall and tourist trap.

This is no "food court," but a pefectly respectable spot for
buffet breakfast and lunch service, converting in the evening to reservation-only
dining in Lotus (pan-Asian fusion), the Carvery (meats and chops in
traditional style), La Piazza (Italian), and the Chef's Galley ($30
extra tariff demonstration cuisine). One section of King's Court was
open 24 hours with hamburgers, hot dogs, and other heat lamp specials.
Early this first full day morning I would find myself snacking there,
only the grill cook to keep me company.

A Wedgewood panel in King's Court.

Bar and lounge set aside as pre- post-prandial locale for the ship's
most expensive accomodations.

A certain austere elegance distinguishes the room.

The Winter Garden was a pleasant spot for tea, and possibly the ship's
least successful room for decor. I didn't care for the trompe l'oeuil
greenhouse effect on the ceiling, and the parrot mural in day-glo
color was did not appeal. Some passengers thought the round gazebo-like
ceiling recesses actually cast a purplish glow that was unflattering
to skin tones.

Behind glass of a banquette end table: plastic butterflies on plastic
grass.

All those stairs. Each of the five stairtowers is decorated in a different
color scheme: A is green, B red, C grey, and D yellow.

Stairway A detail, where 1930s retro stylings meet 21st century safety
requirements: the deco-nouveau glass panels actually are a nice fulfillment
of SOLAS standards for railings enclosed against the spread of fire,
and here the ubiquitous emergency lighting strips are in harmony.

What room is this? At 3AM I found the Deck 9 private area for premium-suite
passengers. The more utilitarian label at bottom has the designation
in Braille as well.

Exclusivity, with all the warm of an airport hotel. Clearly the services
of a private concierge are the attraction, not the decor.

Here is the entrance to the Commodore Club. Another deviation from the
straight and flat on QM2, like the Deck
3 incline between Royal Court and Illuminations. Here there is a
downward incline to accomodate slightly raised platforms on the wings
of the Club. (thanks, Alan!)

Handsome marking of the entrance to a spectacular room.

Behind the Commodore Club bar, a stunning model of the ship.

Someone should write a book compiling all the art works on QM2
-- I'll do the job for mere expenses. Here is a fine Gordon Bauwens
rendering of the ship's namesake.

Here a canvas-transferred cropped enlargement of an original by Stephen
Card, showing Mauretania on a landing in stairtower C.

A closer view.

Not all the art was to my liking: this stairtower B piece was a bit
more Disney-does-Peter-Max than I cared for, but I heard others say
they liked it.

And while I'm at it ... these oil paint versions of frames from classic
movies didn't really do it for me, though even a lesser rendering of
Audrey Hepburn is divine.

Lest I be thought to cavil: it was about 3:30AM, when I found myself
thinking that this hot tap with inverted Cunard logo, and the profusion
of times on outdoor clocks, were the only deviation from perfection
for QM2 herself, that I felt it finally was time to go to bed.

Our first sea day was cold, wet, the ship pitching in long langorous
motion, prow rising then falling to a loud hiss of displaced water from
under that massive hull. We were doing a good 24 knots.

Juan and I took a long lazy walk.

After Juan went to take a nap, I kept exploring the ship; it was past
lunch, and QM2 was moving as much as she would the entire trip.
While the weather was officially only Force 8, people were doing that
drunk-like stagger of the passengers on a rolling deck, and sickness
bags appeared by all the elevators.
It was shortly after taking this shot of the Princess Grill that I
heard from the nearby galley a loud crash of what sounded like hundreds
of plates and glasses.

The next day we force the tropics: Juan found the Pavilion Pool &
Bar, a pleasant space to sip a Margarita.

On a pretty rainy day -- but the weather is breaking in our favor.

The Pavilion was a nice place, and on this first day we were some of
the only people there. The nautical design elements produce a strong
flavor of blue water liner.

Later this space would be crammed with somnolent elderly, basking.

Blue skies and calmer waters ahead.

More blue water feel: this section of Deck 7 outside the Queen's Grill
is Stephen Payne's distinct evocation of a Pacific liner's covered promenade
deck.
While the Duplex suites are grand, the 3-deck staircase is even more
a design tour de force.

Deck 8's Pool & Terrace, quadruple-screw wake behind us ...

Not yet installed, the bar for the area later designated for Queen's
Grill passengers only. This space was one more place where I was struck
by how much of Queen Mary 2's design encourages photography
with so many stunning vantage points to view vessel and water.

A formal night beckons, and I wonder if the shower is available ...

Deck quoits, satellite antenna, and the funnel: from here it doesn't
look too short. On the starboard side of the funnel is the original
whistle from the Queen Mary; the other, to the right here,
was made from the older whistle's design. Each produces a sound distinctly
different from the other: Queen Mary's is slightly lower in
pitch, with a softer attack, but fuller somehow at the same time. The
newer whistle does not disappoint, still making passengers jump, and
the older one is sounded only once daily, at the noon test of all four
whistles/horns on board.
Dramatic markings on the Sun Deck (13) at the top of the ship, for emergency
landings by helicopter. Waiting in the wings against the distant windscreen
are stacks of resin recliners, anticipating sunbathers in the next few
days. The glass box in front of the observation platform is a skylight
for the B stairtower.

The head of stairtower A. While no one particular staircase no Queen
Mary 2 dominates as "the grand staircase," A tower does
take the prize for running to the greatest number of decks: all 13.

Carpet expanse on a C stair landing: what better choice an for abstract
pattern on a ship that so freely incorporates updated design elements
of older ships, than a lot of quotation marks?

The head of stairtower D, jarring tones of yellow that do not appear
to have come from nature, except perhaps (on the floor), the skins of
a few thousand leopards.

Sunlight fades on our second sea day, and ship's lights come on.