More booze than cruise

One of the great things about being an exchange student (well, OK, married to an exchange student) is that you get invited to participate in events and outings organized to introduce foreigners to Swedish culture--or at least to introduce the foreigners to one another. Having already enjoyed ourselves quite thoroughly at one such event, we fearlessly signed up for the latest dose of good, honest, Swedish fun.

We spent the weekend of 3-4 February 2007 aboard the Cinderella, the pride and joy of the Viking Line. The cruise line's website informs you exactly why you'll have the time of your life aboard the Cinderella:

The Cinderella of the Baltic Sea is Viking Line's largest and most gorgeous ship. A few astonishing details are worth mentioning: the panoramic elevator, the three-storey nightclub and the funny Wonderland for children.

"Astonishing" may be pushing a bit hard, but we get the point.

Without a doubt bigger than a breadbox.

But the real pride and joy, not to mention profit center, of the Cinderella is its onboard tax-free store. And the most popular items are--you guessed it--booze and tobacco. And booze. Did I mention that the Swedes bring tons of luggage aboard (remember, it's only an overnight cruise) simply so that they can pack it with booze? I suppose this is why they put wheels on luggage, at least in Scandinavia.

And the whole "most gorgeous" thing is rather bombastic. The truth of the matter is that the entire ship is designed to squeeze aboard as many suckers--er, guests--as possible. Check out the diagram below, again courtesy of Viking Line's website. I enlarged as best I could without pixelating everything. Notice what's inside those little red circles? That's right: beds. Notice what the beds are below? That's right: parking.

Sleep beneath your Jeep for a mere €92 per night.

So anyways, a typical cruise evening runs like this (and observe how many times your author is forced to use the word cram): (1) Everyone crams aboard. (2) Everyone crams into the tax-free shop in order to buy booze. (3) Everyone crams into his/her/his friend's/her friend's cabin in order to drink in relative privacy for a while. I qualify the privacy as "relative" since the Swedes evidently endorse an open door policy while on board.

Such cruises provide a venue for average Joe Swedes to let down their hair, their infamous reserve, and their trousers (thanks to SG for the photo).

(4) After getting a bit tipsy, everyone crams into the aforementioned "three-storey nightclub" in order to watch bands which were one-hit wonders a decade ago lip-synch that one hit. When I say "lip-synch," I mean that they didn't even pretend to play their instruments. And when I say that "everyone crammed in," I mean everyone. Remember that "funny Wonderland for children" mentioned in the sales literature? Well, there were plenty of kids aboard the ship; plenty of kids all over the place, in fact--even in the nightclub.

The kid's obviously grooving with one of the three wise monkeys, but a three-storey nightclub on board a Swedish booze cruise seems a rather unlikely spot to find the other two.

(5) As you might imagine, it's pretty much all downhill from here. I'd heard the phrase "stumbling drunk" before, but it had always seemed more hyperbolic than honest. During the course of that night, however, I finally found several occasions to use it in all candor and discretion. Stolid Swedes behaving (very) badly--rather astonishing. Even more astonishing, however, was the comment I received from a Swedish friend to whom I remarked that Swedes on a cruise were really quite something to watch. She replied something to the effect of, "Well, this is actually rather tame. At least there are no Finns on board."

The evening wound down eventually. We even slept a bit. Next morning, we braved "le buffet questionable," as our French friends christened it. Imagine stale muffins and 19-hour old shrimp salads. Questionable, indeed.

After lunch, we went to watch the karaoke finals in the (you guessed it) three-storey nightclub. Oh yeah, baby! There's something about watching dorky Swedes perform such classics as "Ice, Ice, Baby in the style of Vanilla Ice" (seriously, does anyone know of any other style for this song?), which just sends you straight back to the good old days.

You know, the days when you didn't know how much dignity you had to lose?

Despite the surreality, we did manage to catch a glimpse of the Swedish countryside. Well actually, actually the Swedish oceanside, but who's counting? Desolate, steep, and inaccessible, the Swedish coast hints at deep reserves of courage and determination in the Swedish character.

Certain Swedish dialects have no word for driveway.

Our voyage ended, as we pulled back into Stockholm, on two lovely little grace-notes. No less surreal than the rest of the trip, but decidedly more quixotic. First, we got some good advice from an oil tanker (click to enlarge the photo):

Good advice. Especially on a frickin' oil tanker.

And finally, we saw an instance where some impish soul had managed to bring to life the vision of a striking similarity which would have otherwise been impossible to see. Notice the two smaller cranes on the left-hand side of this abandoned shipyard, which lies on the outskirts of Stockholm (again, click to enlarge).

Once they've been painted that way, they do kind of look like giraffes.