Ship of Fools

My darling adorable diminutive Granny Sammy was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. Her Parents emigrated to the USA when she was one year old. Her Father was well educated man. They did not settle in the lower East side tenements but bought a house in the Bronx. Often I would wonder about that transatlantic voyage. Days at sea, no sight of land, confident that your destination was favorable but not really sure.

Two years ago a cruise line sent me an early booking bargain offer of a transatlantic trip. It was a well fitted ship with nice amenities. The boat was departing Florida, from our most convenient port, at precisely the time of year we would head North. It seemed serendipity.

Further research revealed, interesting possibilities for overseas accommodations and return airfare. The ship would dock in Copenhagen, Denmark. We could stay on a canal houseboat. Our former neighbors had touted Icelandic stopovers between the US and Denmark. Hot springs, volcanic smokers and the rift valley between the American and European plates, 'all near Reykjavik! To lure Francis into this travel plan, we would visit the Maritime Museum in each port and stopover.

It would be a total of 27 days, the longest time we had been away from home. Certainly the longest time either of us had ever been on the road. Even our cross country RV trip had been of shorter duration. 26 nights in strange quarters. The sole defect to our week in Havana was sleeping in someone-else's comparably uncomfortable bed!

Since I'm always tired and my interest was the ocean voyage, I'd be content to stare at the endless water but what would Francis do for two+ weeks at sea? Realistically at sea there would be minimal contact with friends or family, no phone and internet slow and spotty if available. Francis talks and texts with his buds everyday. Would he find an alternative support system on the ship or, with an unlimited “beverage” package, would he drown himself in a vat of Mamsey in desperation?

The Ship

The Getaway is one of Norwegian Cruise Lines newest and largest vessels. Last Spring, we made a Family Spring Break cruise on the Sister ship, the Breakaway. The two ships have almost the same layout. For the long haul I booked the same room in the same location. We had a comfortable quiet berth, high on the prow of the ship with a balcony overlooking a mezzanine deck and the ocean.

The ships can carry about 4,000 passengers and about half that in crew. That is a whole lot of people! The demographic for the previous week trip during Spring Break and the upcoming multi-week trip during the school year would be very different. Thank goodness. No school age or college break kids on this cruise. The kids had been Francis' nemesis. Given the over two week duration, probably few working age folks either. If the mode age was under 60 I'd have been surprised; I was not surprised.

On a big multi-national ship there are enough bars with live entertainment, restaurants with good to very good food and talented performances in a variety of styles to fill a month of evenings. I was ready to relax.

In preparation for the trip we hitched ride to Miami with Rebekah. Her apartment overlooks Biscayne Park, in the distance you can see the cruise ships. We set up her new computer and printer at the apartment, then she dropped us off at the pier. Alerting the dock personnel to Francis' back, we quickly released our luggage and were whisked off to an early boarding line. Settling in to our cozy room, was not an issue after we complied with the mandatory safety presentation. With Miami fading in the background, we wondered what would the next couple of weeks hold?

Days at sea

The first day at sea, a crafty woman urged the activities director to post a notice for a knit / crochet / handcraft liaison. The response was 40 women congregating by one of the bar areas the next day and every sea day thereafter. Off and on from 10 AM to 3 or 4 PM, people would drop in or out at random, comparing projects, sharing tips and occasionally supplies. That was my perch in the late morning / early afternoon. Huddled with an international group of women working on hand crafts, evoked the atmosphere of my fore-mothers. They probably spent their days at sea just this way, while the menfolk took to themselves smoking and chatting. Chatting with his fellow smokers being Francis' preferred activities.

The air was cold and the seas were rough. So chilly and rough that the outdoor activities had minimal appeal. A few hardy souls basked in the hot tubs as water splashed out onto the walkways. Staff were constantly on mop up duty. There were no lines for the water slides or climbing wall, in fact most days these attractions were closed due to the movement of the ship. The gentle sway appealed to me but I'm sure not everyone agreed. 

Indoor entertainment was continuous. During the day there were classes ranging from the practical language lessons in Mandarin, Tagalog and Portuguese to absurd, a Michela Jackson “Thriller” zombie dance class. There were Bridge and box games in the Library and the ubiquitous Bingo in the great hall. The evening presentations were designed to appeal to a variety of tastes and were uniformly entertaining, exhibition dancers, comic jugglers, jazz combos and a couple of Broadway-style shows.

Our plan had been to tour the Maritime Museum in each of the five ports of call: Ponta Delgada, Azores; Brest, France; Southampton, England; Zeebruge, Belgium; and Rotterdam, Netherlands. The seas, even on fancy cruises, will have her way with the plans of men! Approaching the Azores, the sea was rough, 15 to 20 foot waves, such that the Captain was advised not to attempt landfall. Our first stop after a week at sea, canceled. Many cranky passengers, now also feeling a bit trapped!

The next stop was delayed by a lamentable disembarkation process. The only facility was a steep narrow steel gangplank intended for youthful staff and stores. It was wholly inappropriate to older and often unsteady individuals. Amplified by a light rain, the sleek steel surface was slippery as well. People fell, often injuring themselves on the crossbars; often just one patron escorted by two or three staff could exit at a time. It took hours, we had but two hours ashore in Brest, France, 'barely enough time to tour the Musee National de la Marine and rush back to the ship.

The Musee was worth the bother. Sited in a historic fort, overlooking the port, both the building and the contents were fascinating. The hike to the fort and around it's grounds were a bonefide pleasure after a week on the ship. It was early Spring, flowers bloomed along the hillside around the fort. Their vibrancy and color framed a wonderful contrast to the ancient dark stone walls. If it had not been raining and I was not curious, I might have been tempted to stay outside and appreciate the landscape.

Indoors, the exhibits were no less of interest. Our American view of the age of exploration tends to be Anglo-centric. Here the French equals of the English explorers and their discoveries were touted, along with ship replicas and items from their travels. The ship models were Francis' favorites, extraordinary detail in miniature of every beam and line of a massive ship. The contemporary portraits, copies of the ship's logs and master's journals recreated the era, back-dropped as they were by the setting among the fort's turrets.

Another section of the old fort displayed the history of the town of Brest. It's development as a trading port through the middle ages, it's destruction by Allied bombing during World War Two and it's rebuilding after the war. Only two structures remained from the medieval town, the fort and a bell tower. The remainder of the city was rebuilt as quickly as possible after the war. As a result while it was modern bustling seaport, there was little historic charm in downtown Brest. From the ramparts we could look across the river to the energetic modern town. We had neither time nor inclination to tour it.

A both ironic and equally lamentable re-embarkation process marred returning to the ship. There had been severe warnings NOT to return after Four PM and NOT to line up along the quay. The reality of the inadequate gangplank required returning guests to line up along the quay and queue for hours. To further dampen spirits and raise folks' ire, it began to rain. A chill steady drizzle, fell along the stone breakwater. The grey sky and grey stone surrounded by the grey Altantic. The bright Guy Harvey mural on the sides of the cruise ship did nothing to cheer this crowd, if anything it's promise of delight only annoyed them further. We were one cranky and miserable lot. Francis was in such obvious discomfort, a staff person grabbed him by the elbow and steered him to the front of the line, up the gangplank and onto the ship. Merci, merci, merci!

Engine problems then delayed our arrival in Southampton. It was five o'clock by the time we arrived at the Maritime Museum. Guess what time they close, 5 PM! The engine issues also canceled the stop in ZeeBruge, Belgium. We did overnight in Rotterdam, Netherlands and toured that interactive museum before docking and disembarking in Copenhagen, Denmark.

At the Museum

Two hours is the least time you would want to spend touring the fascinating French Maritime Museum in Brest, France. Housed in a historic fort on the seawall, it not only has the expected ship models and nautical exhibits but also an excellent view into the French military, through the history of the fort itself, and the effects of WW2 on coastal France, through a before and after photo montage.

We docked in Rotterdam in the evening rather than the following morning as originally scheduled. Sure skip two ports you will catch up to the schedule. Our berth gave us a perfect view of the Erasmus Bridge, called the Swan Bridge. It is an amazing engineering and architectural feat, and a splendid preview of Rotterdam's whimsical architectural design.

One of the fellow knitters and her spouse asked if I'd like to walk around town. We wandered across the Erasmus bridge to a little pub where we sampled local beer and cider respectively. Her Husband returned to the ship while we wandered along the river until well after dark. Along the way we saw an amazing sight, a floating hot tub boat! Now that is life on a canal! 

We walked farther than we had planned, from the Erasmus Bridge to the Willemsbrug Bridge and back along the other side of the River Nieuwe Mass. Well-maintained and well-restored classic canal houses alternated with creative modern infill construction. Similarly residential alternated with commercial revealing a vibrant and livable urban community. Along the way, we passed by the Rotterdam Maritime Museum, my destination for the next day with Francis.

The Rotterdam Maritime Museum in contrast was modern and interactive, focusing on historical Dutch sea exploration and modern North Sea installations. When you arrive, your entry ticket is a punched name tag and you are encouraged to grab and lanyard for your new “employee pass”. You then proceed through a Off-shore Oil Refinery safety lecture, with opportunities for you to dress in real sou'westers, boots and slickers for your first testing and training day. As you climb stairs between derrick platforms there are videos, displays and games for you to try your hand at standard oil rig tasks. Drill through the sand and bedrock to the oil shale. Stack the shipping containers of supplies. Pilot the ferry to the rig. After failing my entrance exams, I proceeded to the historical displays. The history of Dutch sea explorations in the 1800's was compared with current explorations of outer space. A Dutch Astronaut was featured in many of the exhibits.

Exiting the building there was a canal dockage with actual Dutch canal boats and North Sea ships to explore. A docent was sitting on the completely outfitted live-aboard canal boats. She was keeping herself occupied by knitting socks on double pointed needles. Historically and gender accurate to the era. Around the boats are amusing sculptures: cats on the deck; rats climbing the mooring lines; and on the dock a horse in a crate, being hoisted aboard by a crane.

Live aboard tulips and falling fruit

Rotterdam is renowned for its creative architecture. Rebuilding after WW2, they opted for unique modern designs rather than recreations of former eras or banal postwar practicality. In amusing juxtaposition are wildly imaginative buildings and public facilities with the traditional Dutch canal row houses and wooden barges. The most extreme are clustered around the Blacck neighborhood and euphonious subway stop. The stop itself looks like giant cruller or perhaps a scallop shell. Instead of sugar crystals or diatoms, blue uniformed police clumped around the edges. Ostensibly on crowd control they were much more attuned to their cellphones than their two way radios, as they concentrated on the process and outcome of the national soccer championship.

On one side of the rail station is a residential complex called the cube houses. A series of bright yellow cubes set on end supported by pale columns. While viewed from a distance the effect is of a child's building blocks, viewed from beneath you feel you are walking through a grove of giant picelated yellow tulips. Inside the apartments, each wall slants out at a 90 degree angle and then veers back as a triangle towards a pyramidal central point, every room a dormer alcove.

On the opposite side of the station is an equally unique structure. An enormous saddle or bowbacked tunnel, glass walled on the two ends with offices and rooms in the built sides but completely open through the vaulted central space. A variety of photos had indicated the scale of the building but i had never been able to discern what was decorating the interior vault. While the doors were locked, closed due to the soccer game, walked over to peer inside. Floating fruit! Giant bananas, strawberries, apples and an assortment of fresh fruit were floating and tumbling through space, surrounding any dwarfed humans. What a fun place for a food court.

The cruise ship dock had displays of local products, crafts and souvenirs, while a group outfitted in navy blue and white striped jerseys was singing sea chanties in Dutch and English. What a lovely welcome back. Rotterdam had everything going right! The football game was concluding as we returned to the ship. Cannons and fire crackers could be heard all over the town and the cheering resonated from every corner! Rotterdam won! Finally Amsterdam defeated! That night as firecrackers and cannons celebrated the win, we packed up our baggage ready to disembark in Copenhagen the next morning.