We went earlier to see the ship AIDAwhatsitcalled harbored here in Reykjavík. Such an overgrown amass of metal and glass that was a truly impressive sight to behold. A lot of Icelanders were there too, to take photos and jawdrop in silent envy. Some remained inside their cars to watch from a distance, some were brave enough to get as close as they could to peep inside cabins and other glass barriers, mainly out of curiosity. Many taxis were going back and forth, bringing the ship’s passenger back to the safety of their pastel furnished cabins.
But seriously, who would want to be aboard a ship like that and actually live on it for fifteen days, or more? It’s so much like a luxury concentration camp. From when you wake up to when you retire to go to sleep, your daily routes and routines are traced by marketing experts, that know exactly what you will want to drink and eat and where or when you will want to sit and what kind of dresses you will have brought with you in your suitcases. You will bath surrounded by fake palms and plastic bamboo groves and then, after a brief stroll along decks with that undistinguished minimal-artsy decor, you will listen to the country music act – very likely German, despite the fancy cowboy attire – at one of the eleven available themed bars, while sipping your outrageously expensive Mojito, battling with paper umbrella miniatures to get to the straw. And then you’ll dine in one of the seven restaurants, all covered in mirrors and other vomit-inducing materials in case of seasickness. I mean, seven restaurants and eleven bars? More than in the whole Reykjavík downtown itself – but of course, since I’m not fond of bars here, that’s not a point in favor. And a casino and sport centers and at least a cinema screen – but I suspect there are more – and god knows what else. And this AIDA is not even one of the biggest cruise ships, with only its mere 250 meters in length.
I wonder why people always need to find themselves trapped, from when they work to when they are on vacation; why they like so much the reassuring sense of imprisonment all the time. When and where on a luxury cruise can you be free just to be by yourself, instead of roaming the decks like a brainwashed monkey, eager to spend money on anything? When can you really enjoy the sea and its wild moods and the life in the middle of nowhere? I felt fed up by the thought even before being aboard. To think there are people with so little imagination as to save money for years to spend a few days in a prison like that, with the well-offs that are even less imaginative than they are, ha.