A Tale Of Two Staterooms: Prof. Cruise Reviews A Balcony Cabin On Holland America’s Ms Eurodam

If you find my cruise reviews to be the antithesis of Dickensian, more one-dimensional and clichéd than layered and richly described, or if you believe that classic literary references have no place in online fluffery, let me offer you the following video tour of cabin 6110 on the Eurodam with minimal commentary and an invitation to take your leave upon its conclusion, via a click of the “X” next to the open “Prof. Cruise” tab at the top of your browser. No hard feelings – I get it.

However, if you’re considering or booked in a balcony cabin on the Eurodam – and willing to risk your eyes rolling so forcefully they will dislodge from their sockets and travel across the floor until they are either eaten by your dog, “Winston, NOOOO!,” or blindly retrieved and reinserted after becoming wedged under a piece of furniture – by all means, read on to find out why #6110 on the Eurodam was both my favorite and least favorite stateroom of all time.

My Ms. Eurodam Balcony Cabin: It Was The Best Of Times

I would scour the aisles at Goodwill for an appropriately glamorous and minimally musty gown, change out of my sweatpants for the first time in 3 weeks (it’s been unseasonably cold in Seattle), and tape my boobs together to create the requisite cleavage in order to announce cabin 6110 on Holland America’s Ms. Eurodam winner in the category: best stateroom ever. I’d present the gold plated statuette amid raucous applause, tears of joy, and fake conciliatory smiles from her fellow nominees, as I cite her bathtub as the primary distinguishing factor.

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And while I don’t care if you’re a cat person or a dog person, prefer Pepsi or Coke, or vote red or blue, if you’re a shower person, please declare yourself now so I can dismiss your critical comments: “whatever, she’s a shower person.”

Because I’m a bath person, descended from a long line of bath people – my father once sawed a hole in the wall between his bathroom and closet to house a television so he could read the newspaper and watch his Sunday morning political shows from the tub. And after approximately a billion cruises, #6110 on Ms. Eurodam was my first ever stateroom to feature a bathtub.

My Ms. Eurodam Balcony Cabin: It Was The Worst Of Times

Upon seeing my tub for the first time, I had to cut my celebratory antics (which involved my slightly modified rendition of that song from Dirty Dancing: “I’ll have the time of my life…and I’ll owe it all to this bathtub!,”) short due to a noise complaint from my next-door neighbor who clearly had something against Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes. But also so I could begin scouring the Eurodam for desserts and time pieces. Desserts to eat while soaking in the tub, obviously. And time pieces to hide and destroy. Because, at just 1 night, this sailing on the Eurodam was slated to be my shortest cruise ever.

And while I maximized my brief time in cabin 6110, spending 20 of my 22 hours fully submerged in warm bubbles with a book in one hand and a fork in the other, having to say goodbye so soon was worse than the time I got banned from Olive Garden for not reading the rules of the Never Ending Pasta Bowl (I guess there’s something in the fine print about not filling up a backpack with rigatoni for later).

So, on the mantle next to the statuette I awarded Ms. Eurodam’s cabin 6110 previously, is a spray-painted golden raspberry, a “razzie” if you will, with “Worst Cabin Ever” scribbled on the front with a dried-out Sharpie. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

It Was The Age Of Wisdom

With more time, I would have fully enjoyed the following wise design choices and cabin features:

Ample Storage Space

I didn’t require much storage space for my spare pair of leggings and dressiest flip flops, but when I return to the Eurodam for my world cruise, #agirlcandream, I’ll be pleased with the large closets and additional storage space in two bedside tables, a desk, and a storage cube (located under the desk, doubling as extra seating).

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Bedroom Sitting Area

While my own bedroom in downtown Seattle has barely enough square footage to house a queen-sized bed with Mr. Cruise folded up like he’s practicing a twisting yoga pose in his sleep to avoid fully extending his too-long legs and punching through the drywall to trespass in our neighbors apartment, this spacious cabin made me feel like a suburban soccer mom with a “reading nook” buried in the mountain of laundry I swear I’ll get to “first thing tomorrow.”

The cabin was quite spacious and I appreciated the extra sitting area with a table perfectly sized to receive my complimentary room service order (go here for HAL’s room service menu). I requested it be delivered directly to me in the tub, but was informed that that would violate the “minimal risk of trauma” clause included in crew contracts.

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A Desk And Multiple Outlets And USB Ports

So I could keep up with my rigorous occupation as a d-list cruise blogger.

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It Was The Age Of Foolishness

Thankfully, I didn’t have time to grow annoyed at the heavy balcony door that wouldn’t stay open on its own and locked with a key from the inside (okay, maybe mine is the only 6 year-old who would lock his mother out there for the duration of a 7-day cruise while taunting her with desserts he’d eat sprawled out on the bed doing God-knows-what on her phone). #silverlining

It Was The Epoch Of Belief

It turns out that believing, really believing something – like that if you stick this in your door and never remove it, you won’t have to leave the ship and return to real life – doesn’t necessarily make it true.

It Was The Epoch Of Incredulity

And while I’ve never believed in watching television on vacation, I didn’t have a choice on the Eurodam as my TV would never switch from a repeating safety message (I’m sure this wouldn’t be the case on a longer sailing or could be easily remedied by the steward – I didn’t bother investigating it beyond ensuring the remote’s batteries weren’t dead).

It Was The Season Of Light

If not for the bath, I would have spent my cabin time noveling and desserting in bed illuminated by two handy reading lights…

or desserting out on my balcony, distracted from my novel by the beautiful views and sunsets.

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It Was The Season Of Darkness

“Insert keycard to activate lighting and air conditioning.” But what if I can’t find my keycard in the dark to turn on the lights?

I always find this mildly annoying and generally stick an old motel keycard in there for the duration of my cruise (remembering to manually turn off the lights when I leave the room).

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And speaking of dark, while I know many are fond of the classic, more traditional decor on Holland America, I found my cabin on the Eurodam a bit drab and outdated looking, reminiscent of the budget motels I book on solo road trips when I’m responsible for footing the full bill and don’t have to field complaints from finicky travel companions. “Something just bit me!” “You’re impossible to please!”

The above damaged and water stained drawer only added to the older feel of the room which, considering there weren’t even any bed bugs or mice trapped in the garbage can, didn’t affect my experience in the slightest. But if forced to choose, I’d go with more contemporary decor.

It Was The Spring Of Hope

Having forgotten my allowed one bottle of wine per person to be boarded in my carry-on luggage and consumed without a corkage fee in my stateroom (as per Holland America’s alcohol policy), I felt renewed hope upon opening the mini-fridge to discover a small bottle of chardonnay along with wineglasses and a corkscrew nearby.

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It Was The Winter Of Despair

But the price tag ushered in a winter of despair.

Final Thoughts On My Balcony Cabin On Holland America’s Ms Eurodam

“There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.” That’s how Charles Dickens would sum up my balcony cabin on the Eurodam. But I would sum it up more like this: there may have been water in my wine glass, but my bath was extra hot and my desserts extra sweet and, as such, this cabin becomes the new one to beat (good luck to my next booked ship, NCL’s Pride of America). And with that…

Class Dismissed.

Stay tuned for my full review of the Eurodam, but in the meantime, learn the 20 things I love most about Holland America here. And don’t forget to subscribe to the blog to receive new Cruising 101 content direct to your e-mail (scroll up to the top right if on a computer or keep scrolling down if on a mobile device) and follow Prof. Cruise on social media:

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