Passengers on the Norwegian Pearl are Americans, mostly, from all over the country. Some are very elderly and frail, and the River Styx flows ever closer. Others seem unaccustomed to travel, and, in my imagination, are the winners of a Cruise of a Lifetime contest in some small Appalachian community. The few younger passengers are mostly with family groups. There are some very good eaters among our fellow travelers; I check the mirror for new bulges.
The crew are a diverse lot. The captain is Swedish, replacing the Norwegian of our cruise earlier this yeara. A few Canadians wave the maple leaf rather aggressively, in the manner of those who have been mistaken for Americans – a Canadian officer whose next ship will be the Norwegian Jewel in Quebec City, Matt the bingo king, a few others. All the eastern Europeans sound like Russians. The influence of Simon, your cruise director, is everywhere. He is an extroverted Australian who speaks in superlatives that also color the vocabulary of crew members whose mother tongue is not English. “Smashing”, “stupendous”, “outstanding”, “splendid”: favorite words of the young Romanian man who sold me Russian icons in the gift shop. His exuberance deflated when I noted that he is a long way from home and I instantly regretted evoking the homesickness that must be acute among some of these workers.
Many are from the Philippines, almost all cheerful, gracious and elegant. The ship could not sail without them.
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