Final Thoughts - Onboard

This will be the last entry on the Baltic and will include some general (and generalizing) observations and thoughts about the now sadly-completed trip.

Not surprisingly, various nationalities found one another onboard, and gently staked claim to their own parts of the ship. The indoor patio area near the children's pool was the spot for blood-sport board games by the many Asians. How lovely it was to observe the multi-generational intensity of their play, only to be occasionally punctuated with great bursts of laughter after a particularly brilliant (or dismal) move. Speaking of games, the longed-for Scrabble playoff between me and Pam never occurred as the several games were consistently signed out when we wanted to play. Next investment: our own travel Scrabble set.

The Spanish speaking families, from a culture of ultra-late dining, (not certain if they were from South America or Spain) were in riotous form in the dining room at 11:00 PM or later. Their children, young teens from various families, sat together and away from the adults, and they had the time of their lives. And that reminds me of the Tango.

Each evening, in an area of the ship called the Piazza, a small dance orchestra played. The repertoire was standard "Titanic" and "Ship of Fools" fare; if you closed your eyes while listening to them, you found yourself waiting for the iceberg's crack. But one evening, I noticed a number of Asian women looking over the railing from Deck 7 down to the dance floor below. They were mesmerized and I soon found out why. A particularly lovely and elegant young Asian couple, the only dancers on the floor, was dancing the tango. Their lessons were not in vain, and the orchestra was in heaven to accompany such expert execution of this tricky dance. I found it all quite touching: the obvious pride of the observers, the grace of the dancers, the joy of the musicians (as they played tango after tango to keep the couple dancing). It was a "moment," that's all I can say. A moment of sheer beauty.

Concurrent with this tangoliciousness, another scene was being played out, as it was every night of the cruise. Tables (a' la street vendors, only they were ship vendors) were set up in the hall on the aforementioned Deck 7, piled high with wares that varied not at all over the ten days at sea. Baltic amber, Russian nesting dolls and lacquered boxes, costume jewelry and various other gimcracky continued to delight the women passengers (who piled up five deep at the tables) as thoroughly on the last night as it had on the first. Why, Pam and I wondered, did the fascination hold, when the merchandise remained virtually unchanged after ten days? It's the fever of the marketplace. It's what vacationers do, and it's goofy. The only item I purchased on the trip was a Russian nesting doll for my friend Cathi whose cat Cassie bears a resemblance to the cat painted on the doll. The painted cat, as inanimate as it is, is more likely to extend a friendly gesture than the real cat, that goes without saying.

One of my favorite scenes, repeated daily, was the sight of my friend Pam on the balcony of our room. She loved to sit out there and read after a day's excursion while we sailed off to the next port. Eventually her eyes would close and while she napped a look of utter contentment remained always on her face. This is one of the scenes that will come to mind when I think of this trip.