A cruise is a strange event. The logic is clear: a floating hotel where your stateroom can be in seven European cities in ten days. The food is plentiful, the entertainment abounds, and nearly every day you have a new port to explore. Maybe you can even befriend the Smiths from Des Moines over a Scrabble game.
Yet the socio-political ramifications of this septuagenarian Shangri-la are staggering. The amount of water, electricity, gas and people-power consumed are beyond reckoning. The opulent and corpulent Americans boss around the grinning obsequious crew from Indonesia.
Today my mother and I explored the old town of Tallinn. We sat in the shade of the City Hall and watched an international folk music and dancing competition. An Asian-American woman sat next to us and carefully mouthed to us, “Do you speak English?” I told her we came off the same ship as she did. Tallinn isn’t very big and the ship holds 2000 people. Plus, it’s not real hard to spot an American tourist, especially one of Asian descent. She was shocked I knew. She asked what bus we came in on and we told her we walked. “Oh my God, how did you find your way so far?” she gasped. Well, you could see the old town from the ship and it was a twenty minute walk. Sensing we were experts, she pushed things up a notch. She pointed to some of the folk dancers waiting for their turn to take the stage. “Don’t you think it’s warm for these people to dress like that?” I carefully explained to her that these were folk dancers and that tomorrow they will be dressed much like us. She nodded thoughtfully. “Are these what you call Vikings?” My mother later told me I did a stoic job of keeping a straight face. “No, I think they were a bit earlier and not quite from here.” She nodded again. “I see, so more like pilgrims, then?” My mind raced through all the possible interpretations of that word and I figured the simplest answer was to just agree. She nodded again, clearly edified by our interaction, and wandered off into the crowd with her husband.
People have asked me why I would be ashamed to be an American. If she, or the sparring couples last night at the formal dinner bragging about how many cruises they’ve been on to places like CanneS, were the only American ignoramae other than our former President, I might not feel so strongly. But this exchange in the shade of the Tallinn City Hall was merely emblematic of a much deeper darkness in the aging Empire.
Ingrid and I have been working hard as the representatives of her travel consortium. In fact, Ingrid is haggling with Onshore Excursions on the phone at the moment. We are “responsible” for some 68 people who have booked though a S- travel agency. S- is a consortium of agencies that have come together to increase their collective buying power. Our job has included running around the ship the first day, greeting all our people. It may not sound like much, but you try running up and down a 2000 person cruise ship, locating some 30 staterooms. It took us two hours, and some major patience as a lot of people had a lot of complaining they needed to do. It’s fun to see Ingrid in her professional capacity, assuaging clients’ concerns, fielding questions and listening patiently to how cruise lines discriminate against single people because they have to “pay twice as much per room.” Hmmmm.
Yesterday we hosted a cocktail party where we had to greet people by name, field questions, and explain the free S- tour tomorrow. Of course, I also had the honor of distributing the invitations room by room to said party. But my mother explains the logistics. We are precariously close to having earned this “free” cruise.
Two days ago we were in Warnemünde, which is a German Baltic sea resort. I have heard of such places all my life, but to finally see one was something special. Especially on a Saturday in July during a heatwave – it must have been about 32. It’s fair to say I saw Warnemünde in full swing. The beach was packed, the promenades were full. But it was great to have an afternoon in Germany, especially this particular Saturday. For at 20.30 the third place game between Germany and Uruguay started. After a leisurely supper on the harbor, reveling in my favorite food and beer, I had asked a few locals where I should watch the game. I found my place at the bar and ordered a hefeweizen. Customers greeted the owner informally and by name. Life was good.
I’d never watched a German World Cup final (not qualification) game in public in Germany before. I had never really been surrounded by such partisan fans before. When we, and it was “we,” scored the first goal, the tiny seaside resort town erupted. Die Mannschaft was playing aggressive, attractive football, and everyone in the world knew it. When Uruguay equalized, the mood dampened, but we were still optimistic. A few minutes before half time I had to run for the bus to take me to the ship. The streets, which, 45 minutes before had been almost too crowded to walk, were now nearly empty. Third place game or not, it mattered.
It was the same bus driver who had driven us into town. I had chatted quite a bit with him before. He didn’t speak English and had been a bit lonely driving these ship passengers back and forth all day. We talked about how much Warnemünde/Rostock had changed since the reunification in the last twenty years.
Once the bus pulled up to the ship, I heartily shook hands with my new friend and ran to the ship. The harbor security guys knew who I was and why I was running. I raced right into the second half onboard the Eurodamm. The fans were mostly the non-American minorities onboard, watching the BBC via satellite. The BBC somehow erased the score and time that the South Africans put on the screen. So I was shocked when the people next to me told me it was 2-2.
As is typical of a “neutral” audience, they were strongly anti-German. It seemed a bit annoying since Germany has played some of the most attractive football of the Cup and we were in Germany. But, the game was exciting and colorful on both sides, and, of course, I was pleased with the result. Maybe I’d been a bit more pleased had I been able to stay in that little bar in Warnemünde.
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen