Epic Honeymoon Cruise

Some days ago, who knows how many, we left Portland, OR passed through Chicago and Munich and ended up, travel-weary and a little woozy, at the baggage reclaim in Copenhagen airport. Along with five or six others, we were bused to the ship, led through security, given our key cards (which also act as I.D. and shipboard credit card) and directed to our room, D317. We met our cabin steward, a tall, humorous, Polish guy called Kris, and were told to get ready for the emergency drill. Looking around at our muster station, Chris and I decided we must represent a minority group amongst Princess customers. We sat, orange life-jackets carefully folded on our laps, and watched as repeat-customers dozed off to the shout and crackle of the PA.

By now we have explored most of the decks -- my favorite is definitely the Promenade deck, which as the name implies, allows us to walk completely around the ship. Three times around equals one mile, because, as we now know, this ship is enormous. Not only is the circumference 1/3 of a mile (1,760 feet!) , but the height is staggering. We tower above everything else in port. The views are amazing, no matter where we are: from our balcony we watch the moon light up a strip of the sea; from the dining rooms we look out over miles of water, or at a rocky islands covered in pines; from the promenade we gaze over the stern, hypnotised by the swirling, washing-machine chaos being churned out behind us. Our wake stretches out behind us for miles.

We haven't yet eaten in the formal dining rooms, we've had all of our dinners in the buffet restaurants on the fifteenth deck. Immediately before entering the buffet we are directed to sanitize our hands--with 3,000 passengers and 1,500 crew, this plan makes a lot of sense. At peak times in the buffet lines you must be savvy and alert to keep your plate safe. Groups or individuals can suddenly reverse, cornering you by the oatmeal pots; while a passenger examines the spread to his right, his towering plate lists dangerously in his left hand; you must protect your plate from unpredictable elbows and shoulders flying in from port or starboard.

Apart from arriving in Copenhagen, we've visited two ports so far, Oslo, Norway and Aarhus, Denmark. In my mind's eye I now equate Denmark with bikes. Bike paths run faithfully between the road and the sidewalk. Not American style bike lanes, which are usually just renamed shoulders, but real paths with their own curb and all. At large intersections the bikes have their own mini set of traffic lights! Everyone peddles along: men in suits; girls in dresses; grandmas; grandpas; young dads with a child in the back; teenagers; students. No one wears a helmet and no one carries a lock. The buildings and railings are lined, two or three deep, with bikes. Bikes are everywhere! And none of them are locked up. Aarhus is Denmark's second largest city, and it's biggest port. The bike-lined mile of pedestrian streets was heaving with people this Saturday. Everyone was out to shop, dine, catch up with friends, flirt, and check out the live music. We navigated the little streets and made our way north to the Botanic garden and Aarhus University. We like having a destination, no matter what it is, as it allows us to see more sides of the city. We were led down residential streets of multi-coloured row houses; past paint stores, grocery stores, bike shops, home goods stores, tiny mini marts nestled in garden-level basements; past some graffiti and some robust front gardens. We passed the art museum with its rainbow paned panoramic walkway and the big, modern library.

This is the first time either of us has visited Scandinavia, it's fun to see the people. I recognise my fine hair and easily-burning scalp in the people we pass, my height does not feel out of place. For once I feel I am "ethneutral", I am not usually addressed in English, but Chris is. Oslo is a lovely city. Once again we chose some destinations and explored the streets. The architecture is varied -- some cake-like buildings, some pointy, doily-like buildings, lots of yellow, orange and red. The streets run into each other at odd angles and we had to pay attention to stay on the same street. We saw the Nobel Peace Prize Museum (that does not sell imitation coins), the National Library and the National Gallery. Our final destination was the Vigeland Park which was designed by Gustav Vigeland and filled with his work. His statues are a tribute to humans and to life, in all of its stages. Everyone is naked (the statues, I mean), but they are all engaged in normal activities -- swinging a child, fighting, hugging, crying, consoling, dancing, playing. His style is not overly detailed or so-realistic-it's-creepy. Instead they seem like sketches in statue form, all of the emotions and movements are so perfectly conveyed.