Sailing to a new life (by kerouac2)
Mar 23, 2010 13:45:05 GMT
Post by Deleted on Mar 23, 2010 13:45:05 GMT
After my adventure on the Greyhound bus, chapter two of my new life began when I boarded the SS Michelangelo. The Michelangelo and the Raffaello were already dinosaurs when they entered service in 1965. Ocean liners were already in decline by then due to jet travel, but at the time, it was traffic between the United States, England and France that was mostly affected. There was no way to fly nonstop to Italy yet, or any of the Mediterranean area, so ocean liners between New York and that region still seemed like a good idea. Also, people from that area often travelled with a lot more “stuff,” so the unlimited baggage allowance of a ship was certainly more attractive than 20 kilos on a Boeing 707 or a DC-8.
I would have never thought to actually use an ocean liner to move from Los Angeles to Paris, but I still remember the short article that I saw in Time magazine, probably in December 1972. I even remember the title of the article: “The Good Ship Lollipasta.” It said that the Italian Line was in dire straits due to air travel, and to get a few extra passengers during low season, they were offering an unbeatable student fare of $150 for the 7, 8 or 9-day crossing (depending on where you disembarked). Bingo! There were a few complications, such as the fact that a little boy of the age of 20 was not allowed to travel on an Italian vessel without written parental permission, but I got all of the paperwork done, and it was with great exhilaration that I finally boarded.
I think the sailing date was February 14th, meaning in the absolute middle of winter when the North Atlantic is at its roughest. And indeed, the ship did have a steady roll, but I was actually quite lucky with my cheap fare, because I had a small windowless cabin in the depths of the ship, which moved a lot less than the upper levels or the sides. The proximity of the engine room was both an advantage and disadvantage – the low rumble and vibrations were very conducive to going to sleep, but it was damned HOT in that cabin, too.
The ship was more than half empty. It was built for 1775 passengers and there were fewer than 800 on board – for a crew of 725. The most visible emptiness was in the dining room, because not only were there simply not many passengers, but at an given time a number of them were seasick and not making an appearance at meals. Even in tourist class, an ocean liner is an ocean liner, and the restaurant service was impeccable – immaculate tablecloths and napkins, fine china and crystal glasses. While the food was not as sophisticated as on the French line, it was totally edible and hey, for the price I was paying…
It did not take long for the “student” travelers to find each other (who is really a student on a ship when school is in session in February?) – we absolutely did not look like the other passengers, who were about 50 years older than we were and dressed like they were steaming to a funeral. I know that at the dining table to which I was assigned, there were three elderly people all of the same family, only one of whom spoke English. They were nice, but it did not make for great meal conversations.
There were only eight of us on that special fare, and we had all read the very same article in Time. There was never any mention of that fare in any other publication, and there was absolutely no advertising, so I suppose that it was a marketing plan that was cancelled just as soon as it was announced. Hippies on an ocean liner! Mamma mia! Two of the girls were Iranian, and they had a pretty good stock of hash. We would congregate in the evening in the cabin class bar – we were the only people who ever went there (even though we were in tourist class). It was at the stern of the ship with a small open balcony in back, which was where the hash pipe would come out in the icy air. We would look at all of the white water churned up by the propellers and the menacing black waves everywhere. I don’t remember any starry nights – just dark clouds hanging over the ocean.
It was exciting to see Gibraltar one day as we entered the Mediterranean. It was our first stop, although there was no place for the ship to come into port. We remained moored far from shore for the night, and passengers were ferried on smaller boats. This was actually the second time that I had seen Gibraltar, having taken the ferry from Algeciras to Ceuta on the African side the year before. But to this day, I still have not set foot on Gibraltar.
It was the next day that we hit the bad weather. Here we had crossed the entire North Atlantic without incident, even if it was not smooth, but the Mediterranean was in a raging fury. They had to install rope passages across the public rooms because it was not possible to walk normally without falling down. The ship went up and down and pitched from side to side. All of the outer areas were closed off so that people could not fall off the ship or be swept away by a wave. (A few years earlier, the Michelangelo had been struck by a rogue wave during a crossing, killing three people and smashing in the entire side of the ship.)
I was alone at my table that day (not seasick!), but service was very slow, because even the waiter was sick, and the one who was still working looked quite green around the gills. I don’t think there were more than about 15 people eating that day. I rolled from side to side in my bed that night – and slept just fine.
The next morning, everything was calm and we arrived in the bay of Naples. Vesuvius was very impressive. We were in port all day, so an excursion was proposed to Pompeii, which I loved. Europe at last! Overnight we continued on to Cannes, where I disembarked the next morning with all of my worldly possessions. I stayed with my parents for two months, since they were living in Béziers at the time, and then I went on to Paris to begin real life.
The Michelangelo made its last crossing in 1975. It was sold in 1976 to the Shah of Iran along with the Raffaello, who used them for military barracks. They had been built for $45 million each and were sold for $2 million. The Michelangelo spent the next 15 years moored at Bandar Abbas.
In 1991, it was scrapped in Pakistan.
I think the sailing date was February 14th, meaning in the absolute middle of winter when the North Atlantic is at its roughest. And indeed, the ship did have a steady roll, but I was actually quite lucky with my cheap fare, because I had a small windowless cabin in the depths of the ship, which moved a lot less than the upper levels or the sides. The proximity of the engine room was both an advantage and disadvantage – the low rumble and vibrations were very conducive to going to sleep, but it was damned HOT in that cabin, too.
The ship was more than half empty. It was built for 1775 passengers and there were fewer than 800 on board – for a crew of 725. The most visible emptiness was in the dining room, because not only were there simply not many passengers, but at an given time a number of them were seasick and not making an appearance at meals. Even in tourist class, an ocean liner is an ocean liner, and the restaurant service was impeccable – immaculate tablecloths and napkins, fine china and crystal glasses. While the food was not as sophisticated as on the French line, it was totally edible and hey, for the price I was paying…
It did not take long for the “student” travelers to find each other (who is really a student on a ship when school is in session in February?) – we absolutely did not look like the other passengers, who were about 50 years older than we were and dressed like they were steaming to a funeral. I know that at the dining table to which I was assigned, there were three elderly people all of the same family, only one of whom spoke English. They were nice, but it did not make for great meal conversations.
There were only eight of us on that special fare, and we had all read the very same article in Time. There was never any mention of that fare in any other publication, and there was absolutely no advertising, so I suppose that it was a marketing plan that was cancelled just as soon as it was announced. Hippies on an ocean liner! Mamma mia! Two of the girls were Iranian, and they had a pretty good stock of hash. We would congregate in the evening in the cabin class bar – we were the only people who ever went there (even though we were in tourist class). It was at the stern of the ship with a small open balcony in back, which was where the hash pipe would come out in the icy air. We would look at all of the white water churned up by the propellers and the menacing black waves everywhere. I don’t remember any starry nights – just dark clouds hanging over the ocean.
It was exciting to see Gibraltar one day as we entered the Mediterranean. It was our first stop, although there was no place for the ship to come into port. We remained moored far from shore for the night, and passengers were ferried on smaller boats. This was actually the second time that I had seen Gibraltar, having taken the ferry from Algeciras to Ceuta on the African side the year before. But to this day, I still have not set foot on Gibraltar.
It was the next day that we hit the bad weather. Here we had crossed the entire North Atlantic without incident, even if it was not smooth, but the Mediterranean was in a raging fury. They had to install rope passages across the public rooms because it was not possible to walk normally without falling down. The ship went up and down and pitched from side to side. All of the outer areas were closed off so that people could not fall off the ship or be swept away by a wave. (A few years earlier, the Michelangelo had been struck by a rogue wave during a crossing, killing three people and smashing in the entire side of the ship.)
I was alone at my table that day (not seasick!), but service was very slow, because even the waiter was sick, and the one who was still working looked quite green around the gills. I don’t think there were more than about 15 people eating that day. I rolled from side to side in my bed that night – and slept just fine.
The next morning, everything was calm and we arrived in the bay of Naples. Vesuvius was very impressive. We were in port all day, so an excursion was proposed to Pompeii, which I loved. Europe at last! Overnight we continued on to Cannes, where I disembarked the next morning with all of my worldly possessions. I stayed with my parents for two months, since they were living in Béziers at the time, and then I went on to Paris to begin real life.
The Michelangelo made its last crossing in 1975. It was sold in 1976 to the Shah of Iran along with the Raffaello, who used them for military barracks. They had been built for $45 million each and were sold for $2 million. The Michelangelo spent the next 15 years moored at Bandar Abbas.
In 1991, it was scrapped in Pakistan.
)
