Many things in fact. From her gracious dance hosts to her English high teas, the Queen Mary 2 does old world charm like no other cruise liner. By Sandy McPhie

The dance floor is full. Dapper men in tuxedos and dinner jackets lead elegant women in full-length black and white gowns in a graceful waltz. As the music tapers off, the band leader announces a foxtrot, and I watch a tall, silver-haired gentleman lead his partner back to her seat. With a bow, he holds out his hand to one of her companions for the next dance.

It’s like a scene from a 1950s movie, but this is real life for passengers aboard the ocean liner Queen Mary 2, at least for a while.

The Black and White Ball is one of many balls held during the ship’s 101-day world cruise. For the more than 600 passengers who have been aboard since she set sail from New York, it marks roughly the halfway point. But for 1300 others who, like my partner and I, boarded in Sydney the previous day, it is just the beginning. 

The band strikes up a rumba and I’m surprised to see the tall gentleman take up yet another new partner. Then I notice that he and half a dozen other dancers in white dinner jackets are wearing discreet name badges. It turns out they are dance hosts, on board just to dance with ladies who don’t have partners.

Frank, the energetic elderly gentleman I’ve been watching, is a retired engineer from Canada who takes regular cruises as a dance host. In exchange for a lavish ‘bed and board’, he spends up to five hours a day on the dance floor.

“This cruise leg is 42 days, which is longer than I’m used to,” he admits. “But I love to dance, and it keeps me out of trouble. What else am I going to do?”

It obviously keeps him fit. As the evening progresses, I see several of the younger hosts taking a breather, while Frank – who must be in his 70s – bounds tirelessly from one partner to the next.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” remarks a lady floating towards the floor. “You won’t find anything like it on an ordinary ship.”

She’s right. All but the most luxurious ships have dispensed with gentlemen dance hosts and none have a dance floor as big as this one.

I suppose that’s not surprising given the QM2 is one of the world’s largest, most luxurious passenger ships. The 345 metre, 17-deck ocean liner cost US$800 million to build and is almost twice the size of her predecessor, the Queen Mary.

It is not just her dimensions that make the QM2 special. She is the only ship with a planetarium. She is decked out with US$5 million worth of specially commissioned artwork. Her wonderfully old-world timber-lined library is the largest at sea, with rows of glass-fronted cabinets stocked with more than 8000 books. She has 14 bars and clubs, a choice of 10 venues for dinner and a two-level day spa… I could go on, but you get the idea.

Step aboard the QM2 and you enter another world, especially on formal nights when black tie and evening dress is de rigeur. Before sailing I’d heard tales of tiaras and obscure European royalty dripping in diamonds, and while we don’t spot anything quite so over the top, it is obvious the bow ties are not elasticized and the gowns whisper haute couture.

I hear one lady on board needed eight suitcases just for her evening dresses and a crew member tells us it’s not unusual for passengers to board with a dozen trunks. I’m just relieved we’re only aboard a few days. My evening wardrobe will be exhausted by the time we reach Adelaide.

After 24 hours on board it’s easier to find my way around, and directions like aft and fore seem less cumbersome, although I have been ticked off for telling people that our cabin is “up the front”.

Sadly the balmy weather we enjoyed as we sailed out of Sydney Harbour deserts us, replaced by a strong wind that puts paid to the deck activities we’ve been anticipating. It doesn’t stop the sun lovers from basking on the more sheltered aft decks but it drives Jim and I into the Pavilion Pool room, which has a glass roof, heated pool and two whirlpool spas – bliss on feet worn out by exploring.

Later, strolling along a lower walkway on our way to the captain’s welcome cocktail party, I’m surprised to see huge waves smashing against the ship. The deck is so solid beneath my feet I’d almost forgotten we were at sea.

Lesser ships, a fellow passenger assures me, would be tossed about, but not the QM2. Beneath all her old-world charm beats a thoroughly modern heart. The ship is equipped with four 70-tonne underwater stabilisers that can reduce roll by up to 90 per cent. She is powered by four diesel engines and two gas turbines that between them produce enough thrust to launch a jumbo jet and they allow her to reach an impressive cruising speed of 30 knots (55km/h).

Could anything rock this royal barge, I wonder as I collapse into a very comfy bed, exhausted by a long day of luxury. That question is answered in the early hours of the morning when I’m woken by a distinct pitching. We’ve caught up with the tail of a storm that pounded Melbourne with huge hailstones a few days earlier.

Our cabin is in the bow and each lift and dip seems to take an eternity. Our generous porthole reveals an almost black sea, churning with a four-metre swell. Standing up is a bad idea, so I spend most of the morning in bed waiting for the seasickness tablets to take effect.

By mid afternoon, the sea is settling and so is my stomach. Besides, I really, really don’t want to miss afternoon tea in the Queens Room. While meals in the elegant Britannia Restaurant are first rate, this one has really wowed me.

It’s a true English high tea; the sort they serve at the Ritz in London. A solo harpist provides the music as white-gloved waiters flit from table to table filling bone china cups with delicious tea, and proffer silver trays of finger sandwiches, slices, tarts and, my favourite, scones with jam and cream. I know I should be leaving room for dinner but there’s plenty of time to walk off the scones with a lap of the 600m Promenade Deck. The only question is, can we fit that in and still have time to dress and make it to the Veuve Clicquot champagne bar for a pre-dinner drink? Life at sea is full of tough decisions.

By the time we dock in Adelaide, we’ve grown so accustomed to life in this luxurious parallel universe that it seems almost natural to be greeted by waving crowds and a band. It’s just a let down that no one has sent a limo to pick us up.

Open Road May/June 2010.