I expected at least two things when I booked — about six months in advance — a 16-day trans-Atlantic crossing on the SS Norway (Norwegian Cruise Line) leaving from Miami on Sept. 2, and a three-week return crossing on Holland America Line's Rotterdam from Barcelona on Nov. 17.
One was that this would be the historic final crossing of the Norway — formerly the SS France, being repositioned for Far East deployment as a result of a sale to Asian-based Star Cruises. The other was that each cruise would be a carefree, relaxing vacation. I had arranged time in Europe and a return round trip (by air) to the United States in between.
Each cruise had an intriguing itinerary, no mere five-day journey across the ocean. In the case of the Norway, it included New York, Halifax and St. John's (Newfoundland), crossing to Glasgow, Dublin, Le Havre and Southampton.
For the Rotterdam, it was even more exotic: Livorno, Villefranche, Marseilles, Mallorca, Almeria, Gibraltar, two stops in Morocco, Canary Islands, Madeira, crossing to St. Thomas and the Bahamas before disembarking in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., on Dec. 9.
The dates are significant, because the tragedies of Sept. 11 occurred on the first voyage while we were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and nothing was the same after that.
On board the Norway, we watched the events with horror on TV (just like anyone back home), made phone calls and wrote e-mails to our loved ones in New York and elsewhere, and life went on.
It took a while for the full significance of Sept. 11 to set in, especially as life on a cruise ship isn't quite real-life anyway. There was a brief service at one point for the victims, and the cruise line was generous in allowing each passenger one free ship-to-shore phone call. Yet looking over the ship's in-house daily newspaper, Cruise News, on the days following, there is not a single word about the tragedy, or any listed activities related to it. Life on board was still relaxing, and often, fun, though it was no longer carefree.
When we arrived in Europe, I learned that the sale of the Norway had not gone through, and that the venerable old ship would shortly be returning to the Caribbean! This must have been shocking news to the numerous ship aficionados who had taken what they expected to be the liner's final crossing.
The passengers included, among others, a sizable contingent of the Steamship Historical Society of America, members of the Ocean Liner Museum and a group of approximately 1,000 French travelers interested in the final fate of the former S/S France.
The French, by the way, made a point of separating themselves from non-French travelers, even to the extent of insisting on dining only in one of the ship's two dining rooms and, at open-seating meals, not to be placed at tables with English-speaking guests.
The current S/S Norway, in the state it exists for present-day passengers, is disappointing. Much of the ship is in a state of deferred maintenance, apparently intended to be left for the next owner. Inside and out, chipped paint is left unrepaired. Upholstery in public areas is often stained or worn. In our stateroom, one of the roomier and more comfortable on the ship, the sofa had taken such hard use that its cushions tilted forward when anyone sat on them. A safety bar in the bathroom was so wobbly that it would not have supported the weight of an adult in a real emergency.
Worse yet, in part to accommodate revenue-producing shops, many of the public spaces — bars and lounges, for example — had been converted into commissaries of one sort or another. And those that were left were used for games and other group activities during much of the day. As a result, there was often no place to go (outside one's own stateroom, of course) simply to read or while away the time.
Just as things seemed to be returning to normal, the crash of American Airlines Flight 587 in Queens on Nov. 12 jarred travelers once more from any fleeting feelings of security. The crash occurred on the day before I was due to fly back to Europe for the Rotterdam cruise.
Fortunately, it was said to be unconnected with terrorism. Of course, the fighting in Afghanistan still dominated the news, which we watched on CNN International, and the second day of this journey brought news of the bombings in Israel.
Attitudes had changed by this time. It seemed that people were becoming hardened to the horrors. While just about everyone was aware of what was going on, there was practically no discussion of these events at the dinner table.
The Rotterdam's return itinerary was a wonderful combination of a "destination-intensive" Mediterranean cruise with a trans-Atlantic crossing — a two-for-one bargain lasting a total of 22 days. Whereas the Norway was a liner revamped somewhat for cruises, the Rotterdam was a great cruise ship — elegant and well-appointed with all the latest comforts and amenities. For the record, the food on the Rotterdam — an important element of any cruise — was much superior to the Norway's. Entertainment on the Rotterdam, however, was the worst of any line I've traveled with.
The trans-Atlantic part of our voyage was launched in Funchal, on the island of Madeira. Symbolically, it is appropriate that a replica of Columbus' Santa Maria runs locally as a tourist attraction in the port. The crossing itself this time was happily uneventful. Days at sea were spent doing the meaningless things associated with days at sea in any cruise: lolling by the pool, working out at the gym, playing games, watching bad (and occasionally good) movies, eating and drinking more than perhaps we should, making new acquaintances and friends.
Columbus landed on San Salvador, not far from Half Moon Cay, Holland America's private island in the Bahamas, which was to be our next-to-last stop. Our first stop in the New World, however, was St. Thomas, Virgin Islands — the shopping haven of the Americas that brought us back to the real world once and for all.