Antwerp to Tallinn - Grounded: A Down to Earth Journey Around the World - page 21

Those of us booked in the cheap seats down below have been granted a one-hour time period during
which we are permitted to take showers in the ship's “spa.” When the designated time comes, and I make
my way up there, I find that the men's side of the spa is a small tiled room with one plastic bench and one
moldy shower stall. There are no lockers, no towels, and no attendant. (Were there an attendant, I imagine
he'd just grunt and toss a wad of paper napkins at my face.) I leave my clothes out on the bench and take
a quick, hot shower. It's my first since we left Antwerp two nights ago, and by far the best moment of the
ferry trip thus far. I dry myself off with the T-shirt I slept in last night, on the dustballed floor of the world's
worst room.
When lunchtime rolls around, we peruse the offerings at the snack bar. It has some unlabeled sandwiches
wrapped in cellophane. The condensation droplets on the packaging make it impossible to see what's in-
side. All I can glimpse is a limp piece of lettuce, browning at its edges.
Unless you need to transport your car to Helsinki, and don't feel like driving it, it's difficult to see why
anyone would take this ship instead of flying (or, for that matter, walking) to Helsinki. The ferry's not that
cheap. And with its thirty-hour transit time, it's certainly not fast. It's also not luxurious in any way. The
lounge areas are functional but boring, and from what we can see, the private cabins are pretty minimalist,
too.
At the table next to us, two young, blonde backpacker women are playing cards. I noticed them last night
in the windowless snore-chamber. They seem like nice, reasonable people. Which makes us wonder what
on earth they're doing here. Rebecca's so curious, she leans over to introduce herself and ask their story.
After apologizing for their limited English (which turns out to be much better than your average Amer-
ican undergrad's), the two women tell us they've been traveling on Eurail passes through Germany and
Poland. They're now heading back to Finland, where they live. “But why would you take the ferry instead
of a plane?” Rebecca asks them, pointing out that a plane would have been not only much faster, but pos-
sibly much cheaper and also more comfortable.
“Because,” says the taller one, “we thought we take ferry, big advwenture.” She throws her hands high
and wide on the last word, and the two women giggle. “But now we are here, no advwenture anywhere,”
she says, surveying the depressing vista of the ferry lounge. Their laughter fades. They return to their cards.
“What game are you playing?” Rebecca asks them.
After a quick discussion in Finnish, the shorter one answers, “English name is 'asshole.' ”
CROSSING the Atlantic on our cargo freighter, I'd felt wonderfully protected. We had our safety lecture,
and occasional drills where we all practiced boarding a lifeboat. In general the freighter crew seemed com-
petent and careful. They also knew us by name. I got the sense that, in the event of an emergency, I'd be
rescued even if I just sat in my cabin and listened to my iPod as cold, salty waves came crashing through
the windows.
On the Superfast VIII ferry? Not so much. We've had zero safety instruction or drills. I've no idea where
the life jackets are, and I haven't spotted any signs indicating where I might find them. Just looking around
at all the elderly people puttering through the ferry's corridors, the children roaming the lounges unaccom-
panied, and the overall sloppiness and disrepair I've noticed as I've toured around the ship (muddy decks,
rusty railings, etc.), I fear any crisis situation would quickly devolve into a colossal goatfuck. Loudspeaker
announcement: “Hi, keedz. Boat ees seenking. You jump now.”
Given all this, it is terrifying, and yet not surprising, when—flipping through a travel guide—I stumble
across a reference to a ferry disaster that occurred on the Baltic Sea, on an Estonian-run ferry not unlike
this one. The date was September 28, 1994. A ferry named the Estonia was headed west across the Baltic
bound for Stockholm.