The trip to Scandinavia and Russia actually began on a rainy Sunday afternoon in April 2004. We were sitting at the dining room table reading the travel section of the New York Times, and we began to talk about our summer vacation plans. We had thrown out some ideas during the winter, but we never seriously discussed any destinations until that afternoon. As we sat and talked over yet another pot of coffee, we pulled out a world map and started to fantasize aloud about what we would like to see and experience. We simultaneously pointed to Russia, our fingers colliding somewhere north of Moscow, and we sat back, stunned at the audacity of such a trip. Then we started to discuss it in earnest, getting more serious as the sky darkened and evening approached. And then we read advertisements in the Times for cruises. The idea began to gel in our minds as we logged onto the Holland America Internet site. By the end of the day, we were booked on the MS Noordam for a 10-day cruise in the Baltic Sea, a round trip from Copenhagen to St. Petersburg in Russia. An outside cabin with twin beds on the lowest deck, just above the waterline. We had 74 days to wait. And so it began…

The afternoon was warm and clear, with a few puffy clouds and the smell of hot pavement as we walked to the subway, the wheels of our heavily packed luggage thumping over each sidewalk crack. The subway ride to Kennedy Airport took only an hour, thanks to the new Airtrain from Jamaica Station right to the terminals. We waited in line at the American Airlines ticket counter for another hour, excited, anxious, and eager. We had been assigned seats by the computer system weeks before, but we had bags to check and we still needed boarding passes. We had plenty of time to wait for the first leg of our trip, a flight to Brussels.

The plane was packed, and we had the misfortune of being seated just ahead of a family that took up an entire row: a woman traveling with five kids all under 10. By the end of the flight, even the flight attendants were becoming annoyed with them. Another woman a few rows up had two or three kids, including one who screamed for at least an hour. That’s why we usually like to take vacations in April or October: virtually no kids on the flights.

The sun set about two hours after we took off, but then the eastern sky started brightening again about two hours after that. We were heading north across the Atlantic, following the coast of Canada and hopping over Scotland toward Belgium, where the midsummer nights are much shorter than in New York.

We landed just after eight AM in Brussels, two AM on our internal clocks. The plane dropped through the heavy cloud cover over a wheat field that extended up to the end of the runway. It was drizzling as we taxied into the terminal. We went through passport control, and then checked in at SA Brussels airlines for our flight to Copenhagen. Since it was very early in the morning, the ticket counters were nearly empty, so we were finished quickly, and we had almost three hours to wait. An ATM furnished us with Euros, and we went off in search of breakfast, ending up in an "American" diner, complete with a Formica counter and red vinyl stools. We had a Belgian breakfast: ham and cheese sandwiches with strong black coffee. We love European coffee. It’s expensive, but it is worth every Euro.

Brussels Airport Terminal A is new and beautifully designed in brushed stainless steel and glass, with curved three-dimensional trusses that form the roof and side walls. The marble floor is polished to a mirror-like shine and there are moving sidewalks to speed one along between gates. The terminal is not fully utilized yet. Many of the gates appeared to have never been used.

Our flight to Copenhagen was a bit rocky because of the stormy weather over the coast of Denmark just before we landed. It was raining there, too, and our luggage was wet when it came up the ramp and plopped onto the moving belt. We were domestic passengers now, and although we had to pass through a customs checkpoint, the officers were merely spot-checking passports. We walked straight through and we followed the signs for the subway, located under the next terminal. We were on a clean new train speeding into downtown Copenhagen within 30 minutes of landing.

A glass elevator brought us to the street at Norreport Station in the center of Copenhagen. We knew that our hotel was within a few blocks of where we stood, so we pulled out a map and got our bearings. In most European cities, the street names are on a plaque affixed to the buildings at the corners. We were on an island in the middle of Oster Voldgade, at the corner of Frederiksborgade, a block away from Vendersgade, where Ibsen’s Hotel was located, a ten minute walk away. The temperature was in the high 50’s, about 15 degrees Celsius, and it was misty.

The hotel desk clerk spoke English very well, as do most educated people in Scandinavia, and we were soon in our room. She didn’t explain to us, however, that a white card on the room key ring was to be inserted into the electrical control box next to the door to turn on the lights in the room. After a few minutes of confusion, the lights came on and we were ready to settle down. The room had a king-sized bed that was actually two twin beds pushed together. We had down mattresses with down duvets. The cable television included a few American channels with Danish subtitles. Our internal clocks told us that it was now nine AM (three PM local time), and we had had only about two hours of sleep on the plane, so we decided to lie down for naps. We set the alarm for six PM and slept.

After our nap, we showered, changed clothes, and went out for a walk. We didn’t want to venture too far this evening, so we walked east toward a botanical garden that we saw on our map. It was closed for the evening, but we walked around the perimeter and headed back toward the hotel. The clouds overhead were heavy and gray, but the sun was peeking under the cloud cover in the west, and we saw a partial rainbow in the east. We could smell the flowers and damp newly cut grass in the botanical garden as we walked past. It felt good to stretch our legs after the long hours in the air.

We decided to eat at a Spanish restaurant located in the basement of the hotel. We were seated in a back room overlooking a courtyard and outdoor eating area, unused in the chilly damp evening. Our waitress was pleasant, and we ordered a half-bottle of wine, two appetizers (octopus salad with spicy paprika, and a fish and shrimp salad with lime and cilantro). Beth had monkfish, and David had a lamb loin. We shared a lime mousse dessert and finished it off with cups of coffee. We were one of the last tables to finish, and we left after 10.30. The sky was just darkening, and it finally got dark just before midnight.

The complimentary breakfast buffet at the hotel included cold sliced meat and cheese, hearty breads and huge croissants, whole-grain cereal with real milk, yogurt, hard boiled eggs, fresh orange juice, and, of course, wonderfully rich coffee. Atkins dieters were not welcome here. Checkout time was eleven AM, and we couldn’t check in at the pier before 11:30 AM, so we had two hours to spend walking around the neighborhood. We walked north of the hotel to a canal that had been partitioned into separate lakes. Dozens of people in business clothes rode past us on their bicycles, some with little kids strapped into small seats over the center bar or over the rear wheels. Many bikes had large front baskets on the handlebars to carry groceries. The riders followed the rules of the road, stopping at stoplights, signaling turns, and yielding the right of way to pedestrians. There are dedicated bicycle lanes on all of the major streets, and drivers are careful about looking for bicyclists when they turn at intersections. The traffic was heavy, but the cars were small by American standards. Gasoline was eight kroner per liter, or almost five dollars per gallon, at a station near the hotel. That explains the lack of gas-guzzlers.

We walked in the morning sunlight through residential neighborhoods. The apartment buildings lining the wide main streets had all types of shops on the ground floors, including grocery stores that displayed fresh fruit and vegetables in bins on the sidewalks. Small attached houses lined narrower side streets; most of them had rose-filled gardens in the tiny front yards. Most buildings were constructed of brick, and the colors varied from brown and red natural brick to bright yellow or red paint. The roofs were red tile or gray slate, and the small-paned window frames were painted red or white or dark green. All necessary services and supplies can be found within a few blocks, within walking distance or a short bike ride of most of the homes. The city felt very cozy and comfortable and livable.

We asked the desk clerk to order a taxi to bring us to the pier. As we neared the waterfront, we found that a different cruise ship occupied the pier listed on our cruise documents, the Langilinie. Our driver asked a security guard where to find the Holland America pier and was directed to a pier about a half-mile away. As we got closer we could see the Noordam berthed there in its midnight blue and white paint, next to a renovated warehouse that acted as Holland America’s reception hall. Porters took our luggage at the curb, and we walked in to see a long row of agents sitting behind a bank of laptop computers, entering passport and ticket information into the computer system. A few hundred of our fellow passengers were already waiting to board, sitting on rows of folding chairs under bright lighting. Potted palms lined the walls and red carpeting covered the floor, making it less like a warehouse and more like an airport or railroad terminal. We checked in and received identification cards that were to be carried for the duration of the cruise. We had to scan the cards as we entered and left the ship, as we bought anything in the stores on board, and when we ordered drinks. A few minutes later, just after noon, we walked up the gangplank and onto B Deck 3, where friendly Indonesian cabin stewards greeted us. One of them escorted us down to our cabin.

Cabin 841 was on the starboard (right) side of C Deck 2. It had two twin beds, a desk, a dresser with six drawers, two mirrors, two closets, a small bathroom with a shower, and a round porthole just a few feet above the water line. It was compact but didn’t feel small. The crew was still hauling the luggage aboard, and it would be delivered to us later in the day. For now, we were free   to explore the ship.

The Promenade Deck 6 contained most of the public services: the Lido restaurant at the stern with its outdoor deck, the stores, the Admiral’s lounge, the movie theater, several smaller lounges, the library, and the Internet room. Below that, on Main Deck 5, was the Amsterdam restaurant, the main dining room, where we were assigned a table for two at the second (8:15) dinner seating. The Upper Promenade Deck 7 was a wrap-around teak deck one-fifth of a mile around, or five laps per mile. There was a small health club on the Navigation Deck 9, and our favorite lounge, the Crow’s Nest, on the Sun Deck 10, just above the navigation bridge.

The Lido restaurant was serving a buffet lunch. We ate while we watched the heavy gray clouds roll in from the west to snuff out the sun. We went back down to our cabin and found that they had delivered our luggage. We unpacked and found places for everything, and we felt right at home. Our cabin steward, Adrian, stopped by to introduce himself and to tell us a few details about our cabin and the ship.

A bon voyage party was scheduled for our sailing time, five PM, on the Lido deck. It was a low-key affair, with hot hors d'oeuvres, drinks, and a jazz band. We were delayed by almost a half-hour by the departure of the ship we had seen earlier, actually a ferry sailing to Stockholm Sweden. We were talking to two of the cruise directors as a tugboat began backing us out of the slip and the Noordam began to slowly move stern-first into the harbor. A short rain shower sent us under the overhanging deck for cover but it passed quickly. We were underway at last.

We began a long slow arc around the islands of Copenhagen, heading for open water at half-speed. As the church spires and other city landmarks receded into the distance, the heavy clouds began breaking up and we began to see blue sky again. At seven PM, the pilot’s boat pulled along side and the harbor pilot left the Noordam. We were out of the harbor and we began to pick up speed.

The dress code was casual at dinner, but most people had changed into nice clothes. Our table was located near the starboard entrance to the dining room. The four-person table next to us was occupied by a Chinese family that spent most of each dinner session in quiet conversation between themselves, so we were alone for the most part, just as we had hoped. Dinner in the Amsterdam is up to five courses: appetizer, soup, salad, main course, and dessert. One is free to order any combination, taking some or all of the courses. We opted for all five. As in any high-end restaurant, the courses are small, not heaping plates of food, and one can enjoy five or more courses without feeling bloated. In fact, after sitting at the table for two hours, savoring the food slowly, one feels satisfied, not stuffed. That night, we had a smoked salmon and asparagus appetizer, chilled apricot soup, a small spinach salad, roasted pork loin with pureed potatoes and sautéed spinach, and flambéed pears for dessert.

After dinner, we went to the Admiral’s lounge for the evening show: a little music, a little song-and-dance routine, a lot of comedy, and a few pleas from the activities staff to attend the various events in the coming days. The main act was a British comedian who told old jokes that were funny because of his accent and his English viewpoint. He got a lot of mileage from attempting to explain his jokes to a Turkish woman. She didn’t understand English very well, and he didn’t speak Turkish, but the whole episode was funny, nevertheless.

After the show, we went looking for a quiet place for a nightcap and we made our way up to the Crow’s Nest. It was almost midnight and the Crow’s Nest was almost deserted. We sat at a small table at a front window with a spectacular view of the full moon rising over the eastern horizon through wispy clouds. The moonlight reflected off the water, lighting our way through the calm Baltic. There was no real sensation of speed, only a little random movement and a sense of slowly flying in a low-altitude airplane. Earlier, in the dining room, we could feel the constant throb of the engines, but up here, all was quiet and calm. We could see the lights of several ships through the mist on the horizon, and one freighter crossed our path, but none of the ships actually came close to us. We finished our Irish coffees after midnight, and took a short stroll on the Upper Promenade deck in the crisp sea-scented night breeze. As we crossed over the bow, we could see a faint band of light at the northeastern horizon. Dawn was just a couple of hours away.

We awoke to blue skies and a calm sea. The cabin was only a few feet above the waterline and an optical illusion makes one think that the water comes up above our porthole, which it doesn’t. We are about a hundred feet from the bow, so we can hear and see the bow waves, and the light reflecting off of the water forms a constantly moving pattern on our ceiling.

We had an early breakfast in the Lido, and then decided to work out together. First we walked five laps around the Upper Promenade (a mile), and then we went to the health club to use the treadmills and weight machines. The weather was perfect, so we could see for miles in all directions as we worked out. A lot of people were walking and using the machines, keeping in shape for the coming land tours.

We finished our workout, and then headed downstairs to tackle our laundry. There were four free self-service laundry rooms scattered throughout the ship. That chore done, we headed back upstairs for lunch and a short lecture about Russian souvenirs and the quality to expect from street vendors. The ship’s stores buy items of known value and sell them at a "Russian Extravaganza" after the ship leaves St. Petersburg. The information was interesting, but we were not really in the market for the types of souvenirs they were talking about.

In the afternoon, we had a very short tour of the ship’s main kitchens between mealtimes. The kitchen was quiet except for some ice carving. The space was not as big as one would imagine for such an extensive food operation; like all professional kitchens it was spotless, compact, and efficient.

We claimed two deck chairs on the Upper Promenade so we could read and soak up some sun. We brought some snacks from the Lido to tide us over until our late dinner, and we followed the sun around the deck to keep warm. Later we went to the Internet center to set up our online account so that we could check our email.

Tonight was Formal Night in the dining room, and everyone was a little concerned about his or her appearance. Basically, any nice suit or dress qualified as "formal", although some men wore sport coats with no ties. The dining room looked very festive with everyone in his or her best clothes. The kitchen produced some great ice sculptures, and the servers wore formal uniforms. After dinner, the evening show was a Vegas-style song and dance group doing music from Elvis, Elton John, Dinah Ross, Sammy Davis, Cher, Dolly Pardon, and Frank Sinatra. The eight performers had great voices and amazing choreography for such a small stage, and they had a very busy costumer with constant costume changes. The audience was a little cool at first, but everyone warmed up by the end of the show, and the performers got an enthusiastic round of applause at the end.

We awoke just as the Noordam was docking in Tallinn, Estonia. The sky was bright blue, and we could see the church spires and red tile roofs of the old city across the harbor. The Noordam was moored next to a Princess Lines cruise ship that dwarfed the Noordam. The old town of Tallinn spread out on the starboard side, and it appeared to be within walking distance of the pier.

 City and national government offices now occupy the upper town, with few apartments. The lower town is thriving, with many shops, restaurants, small hotels, and many renovated apartment buildings that were not more than four or five stories high. The buildings were well maintained and the wall colors ranged from yellow to red, with red tile roofs. Flowerboxes hung from many windows and colorful plaques announce the names of stores. Many of the cobblestone streets had newer granite cobbles, but some streets were intact with old rounded cobbles. The town never had a master plan, so the streets meander in all directions and many streets either returned you to where you started or they dead-ended at the town wall. Most of the streets in the lower town eventually run toward Raekoja Plats, or city hall square, the site of public gatherings, celebrations, and the annual Christmas tree. The streets were swept clean of litter, but they were muddy in some places because of recent rain.

We stopped for a few minutes in Nevsky Cathedral, a Russian Orthodox Church built in 1894, which is very new by Tallinn standards. The interior surfaces of the church are covered with painted icons, mosaics, faded gold leaf, and statuary. As we walked toward Dome Square, church bells began ringing all around us, announcing Sunday services at several churches. Our guide had to shout over the bells as she explained that St. Mary’s Church in Dome Square was built in the 14^th century, and that the Lutheran Church is the oldest in the country. It has been rebuilt several times after fires. We were not allowed into the church because services were being held.

We selected a Russian restaurant, the Troika, and were invited to sit at a table with two women from the Noordam. As we ordered lunch, they entertained us with tales of their other cruises, including one to Antarctica and South America. We ordered a beef stroganoff type of stew, with cream sauce, potatoes, and carrots; and a chicken Kiev variation with a cutlet wrapped around a cream cheese filling, breaded and fried. Both dishes were substantial and extremely good. After lunch we walked back up the hill and explored the streets in a more leisurely way, possible now because the crowds of tourists had left. In fact, as we stood again at the overlook platform, we saw the Princess Line ship heading out of the harbor with its 3000 passengers.

We were to be back at the ship by four PM, an hour before sailing time. As we walked toward the pier, the previously blue sky turned dark gray, and it began to cool off. We stopped to take pictures of the ship from an empty lot near the pier, but several black and white swallows began to dive at us with open beaks, screaming as they flew past, protecting their nests in the tall. Rain began to fall just as we reached the end of the pier and we got aboard before it began to pour.

We decided to take naps before dinner. We awoke after 8 PM and we still weren’t very hungry after our big lunch. Instead, we went to the Lido for coffee and read while we waited for the start of the 11:15 PM buffet. We went to bed after midnight, but we lost an hour because of the time change in St. Petersburg, Russia, our next port.

Our Moscow tour was to leave the ship just after seven AM, and we were ready at least an hour early. It was cool and raining in St. Petersburg, and apparently it was also raining in Moscow, 700 kilometers (420 miles) away. Three Holland America ships were in port, and a total of 300 people were heading to Moscow this morning. As we left the ship, an eight-piece brass band serenaded us. We passed through Russian customs, where dour, unsmiling, uniformed, blond women took our passports, stared at us to compare picture to person, stamped the last page, and gave us orange port embarkation cards that we were to turn in when we reboarded the ship that night. The tour guide for our group was Nina, a plump, middle-aged Russian woman with reddish hair, large eyeglasses, and something of a sense of humor.

Our bus convoy made its way through the port, past the port security checkpoint (it is still a heavily restricted area), and through the southern part of St. Petersburg, giving us our first look at the city. Our first impression was that it was very run down and neglected. Building facades were cracked, severely deteriorated, and stained. Nina described the city as beautiful, and it may well have been much nicer in years past. For now, though, it appeared to need a lot of tender loving care.

The domestic flight terminal at Polkovo I airport was primitive by American standards. There were no jetways; the planes were parked out on the tarmac and we had to transfer to other buses to reach our plane. We pulled up to the front of the terminal and exited, and then realized that Holland America had assigned groups from different ships the same group numbers. In other words, we were in Noordam 4, but there were two other group 4’s. We had to make sure that we followed Nina with her mustard yellow coat and her group 4 flag.

We bypassed the security desk inside the main door of the terminal, but then had to walk the length of the long narrow building and pass through a special security checkpoint. Nina led her group like a big yellow mother hen leading 30 chicks. We filed through a single narrow door and a metal detector while our backpacks went through a bomb detector. Then we waited inside the security area in groups surrounding our guides. Nina told us to refrain from using the airport bathrooms, and instead to wait until we got onto the plane. As we waited, a dirty white cat prowled around the security area and behind the ticketing desks, obviously a permanent resident. We began moving finally toward the boarding area, but we were instead directed into the business class waiting room, a dismal gray room with a crowded bar at one end and well-attended toilet rooms at the other, and few seats. People began grumbling and getting impatient. Nina again told us not to use the toilets, and she was right, because after waiting about a half-hour, watching Russian-language MTV music videos on television screens affixed to the walls, several transfer buses showed up to take us to the plane. The terminal emptied in just a few minutes, and several people in the toilet lines had to hurry to board the buses instead. We were obviously on Russian time, at the mercy of their timetable and decisions. Any resistance on our part only led to frustration. We understood that and made ourselves as comfortable as possible. We had brought some fruit and bottled water from the ship, and we were content. Others didn’t learn that lesson. Nina responded to complaints with a shrug and a wry smile, eyes closed as she tilted her head and raised her palms, in effect saying, "Not my job, not my fault…"

The flight lasted about 45 minutes and was quite smooth despite the heavy clouds and rain. The flight attendants were all young and blond and attractive in their light blue uniforms, and they spoke some English. They served beverages and peanuts with grim faces and a determination to get the job done. After we landed at Sheremetevo Airport in Moscow and parked, they stood at the doors, trying to look pleasant, saying goodbye in English. We climbed down the rear stairs through the exhaust and noise and waited on the tarmac for transfer buses to take us to the distant terminal. Several people snapped pictures before being sharply warned by a short, stout, unhappy, green-uniformed, walkie-talkie toting airport representative that it was forbidden to photograph the airplanes. She directed us to five buses that pulled up, pushing us out of the light rain into the crowded buses. We were taken to the rear of the terminal, where we disembarked and walked through the terminal, past uninterested security guards, to where our Moscow tour buses were waiting in a parking lot. Nina directed us to our bus where another guide, Olga, was waiting for us. Olga was our local guide; Nina helped her and was probably responsible for making sure that all of us got back to the ship later that night.

When everyone was accounted for, all ten buses began to move in a convoy with police cars at the front and rear of the string. Olga explained that Moscow traffic was horrendous and that a police escort was necessary to shave hours off the 45-kilometer (27-mile) trip. As we merged onto Leningradski Prospekt, or Leningrad Highway, we saw that traffic had been stopped for us and the resulting traffic jam extended about a mile behind the machine-gun toting traffic cop standing in the middle of the highway. We raced onto the highway, only to be stopped by the traffic ahead of us. The escort at the front of the convoy was too efficient at getting past the other cars, and we were soon far behind him even though we were third or fourth in line. Our driver was becoming frustrated by the automobile drivers who illegally darted into the gaps between buses, and he had several angry conversations on his cell phone with the other bus drivers. Finally, they agreed to reform the convoy at a particular location. The lead buses pulled over and waited, allowing the stragglers to catch up. Other police cars had stopped traffic in the right lane and were writing tickets to some of the automobile drivers who had gotten in our way. Soon all of our buses were in line again and the convoy began moving.

We passed many unpainted shacks surrounded by overgrown vegetation in the Moscow suburbs. Olga explained that they were dachas, inhabited by pensioners who grew their own food. They were quite decrepit and many appeared to be in a state of collapse.

The Soviet-era apartment buildings lining the highway were bland and soulless. Windows were mismatched, walls were cracked, and the front doors were drably painted plywood or plain steel doors. Cars were parked everywhere; traffic and parking laws are unenforced or nonexistent, and major traffic jams are common. We crawled along in traffic, and the closer we got to the center of the city and to the Kremlin, the worse the traffic became. It was eleven AM, but the morning traffic was still heavy. Olga explained that people leave the city on Friday for their country dachas, and returned on Monday, causing the traffic that we were now seeing.

We drove along the Moscow River and came to a stop outside the southwest corner of the red-brick Kremlin wall. Three hundred people climbed down from the buses in the rain and crossed Manezhnaya Street to the main gate in the Borovitska Tower, one of only two public entrances to the Kremlin. As we waited to file through the gate, Olga explained that the word "Kremlin" meant "citadel", and was a city within the city, built by and for the Czars. The official capital of the country was St. Petersburg until 1918, but the Kremlin always was a seat of government. The earlier Czars lived their lives here, they were coronated here, they governed here, and they were married and buried here.

We entered the Assumption Cathedral, where the Czars were coronated and the leaders of the Russian Orthodox Church were entombed. Its interior surfaces are covered with painted icons and mosaics, some dating from the mid-1600’s. The Cathedral itself was built in 1475, and was ransacked by Napoleon’s troops in 1812, who used it as a stable. It was repaired and was used again as a church until 1918, when it officially became a museum under the Soviets. It was returned to the Orthodox Church in 1989, but still functions as a museum. As in all Orthodox churches, it has no seats inside; the congregation stood for services. It contains the coronation thrones for the Czars and Czarinas, and a throne built for Ivan the Terrible in 1551. Despite the stream of people walking into and out of this church, only one narrow door was open.

The Czar’s cannon is located on the east side of Assumption Cathedral, and it was never fired. It was cast in 1586 with a 90-centimeter (34-inch) bore. The cannon balls stacked next to the cannon were cast afterwards, and they are actually too big to fit into the cannon.

The Czar’s Bell sits on a pedestal near the cannon. It weighs 270 tons, and was damaged in 1737 when water flowed into the casting pit as it was cooling, causing a 17-ton chunk to break off.

The rain was coming down heavily as we walked toward the exit in the Trinity Gate and Kutafya Towers. Along the way, we saw the Supreme Soviet building and the Senate, the seat of Soviet power. Both buildings were heavily guarded and off limits to us. We also saw the Kremlin Palace of Congresses, a Soviet-era convention hall that has been used for rock concerts and other public gatherings.

We crossed a bridge over Alexandrovsky garden as we exited the Kremlin, allowing us a last look at the west wall. We had spent three hours inside, and we had only seen a small fraction of the historical artifacts within those historic walls.

Olga and Nina led us across Manezhnaya Street. Our buses had been moved to a parking lot three blocks away. We walked in the rain to a nearby subway entrance, and then through an underground passageway and emerged close to the buses. Once onboard, we headed through the crowded streets toward a restaurant for lunch. The convoy had been split up for lunch, and now we were in a group of only 60 people in two buses. It was about 2:30 PM. We traveled west on Novy Arbat toward the World Trade Center on 1905 Goda, near the Moscow River, and we were directed into Le Duc, a French restaurant with a medieval interior. We ate in a sprawling room on the top floor, with rough wood benches and tables seating six, stone floor, rough wood timbers, stained glass windows, and an arched roof. Everyone had the same meal: mixed green salad with vinaigrette and goat cheese, hot borscht, veal and chicken cutlets wrapped around sautéed mushrooms and deep fried, and ice cream for dessert. We also enjoyed coffee, wine, and bottled water.

After lunch, we reboarded the buses for a tour of rainy Moscow through Monday afternoon traffic. We saw the Russian White House, the Parliament building and the site of attempted coups in 1991 and 1993. The front of the building was still scarred by shells from the tanks sent in support of President Yeltsin. As we drove along the Moscow River, we saw Gorky Park stretching along the opposite bank, Moscow’s amusement and recreation park.

Moscow is a complex city of contrasts, of monuments, and of history. The city is dotted with gold-leafed onion-domed cathedrals, monumental Stalin-era apartment and government buildings that soar above the skyline, small parks, memorials to the military victories over the French in 1812 and the Nazis in World War II, newly-built cathedrals designed to look like their predecessors torn down by Stalin, and modern bridges spanning the Moscow River.

We stopped for a few minutes near the Novodevichy (New Maiden) Convent. In addition to being a convent, the buildings were constructed in the early 1600’s as a defensive fort to protect Moscow from invaders traveling upriver. The multiple gold-domed towers and massive exterior walls stood guard over a lake and a cemetery. Russian noblewomen were sent to the convent if they failed to marry or if their husbands had been killed or if they were simply tired of them. The Russian Orthodox religion forbids divorce, but if one’s wife was banished to the convent, the men were free to pursue others. Many unfortunate sisters, aunts, and ex-wives of the early Czars ended their lives there. Its graveyard contains the remains of many prominent Russian rulers, writers, and dignitaries, including Nikita Khrushchev, Raisa Gorbachev, and Anton Chekhov. It is an honor in Russian society to be buried at either a monastery or a convent.

Next, we drove up Sparrow Hill, the highest point in Moscow, and on clear days, the best place to view the city. Unfortunately, all we saw was a wall of white, so we headed back down to the city. The most prominent building on Sparrow Hill, and in all of Moscow, is the Moscow University building, at 256 meters (800 feet) the tallest building in the city. It was built in the late 1940’s, and, like most of the monumental Stalin-era buildings, the University building consists of a tall center tower flanked by four lower towers. The center tower is capped with a four-sided pyramidal spire that is decorated with a red glass star at its apex. Massive statues of Soviet heroes stand atop each of the four lower towers. The building is symmetrical and the architectural elements were derived from classical Greek and Roman and gothic styles.

Our final stop was Red Square on the north side of the Kremlin. The word for "red" in Russian is also the word for "beautiful", so "Red Square" is really "Beautiful Square". Our bus stopped at the west end, and we walked toward the square, past the State History Museum and the Resurrection Gate. Stalin had ordered the Resurrection gate torn down because it impeded the flow of large military vehicles into Red Square. The gate has been restored. The rain had stopped, but the clouds were heavy and the cobblestone pavement was wet. A light mist hung in the air. The square itself is surprisingly small; maybe the area of two New York City blocks. The Kremlin lies on the south side with Lenin’s tomb in front. The GUM department store, a gothic-inspired three-story complex built in the early 1900’s, lies to the north. St. Basil’s Cathedral, with its multi-colored onion domes and red brick walls, forms the east end of the square. We walked slowly, snapping pictures and imagining fearsome arsenals of tanks and missiles on May-Day display passing before a who’s-who of Communist Party dignitaries atop Lenin’s red and black marble tomb. We reached St. Basil’s, finally, and turned for a last look at one of the most famous and hated and feared fields of cobblestones in the world.

Our ten-bus convoy reformed in the parking lot behind St. Basil’s at seven PM. All of the passengers were accounted for, and we again followed a police car with blue flashing lights onto the rain-soaked Moscow streets toward the airport. The impending rain now fell in a steady downpour. Again, the main highways were blocked off as we approached, and this time we had little trouble finding our way through the traffic.

We entered the terminal building at Sheremetevo Airport, bypassing a large group of regular passengers waiting at a security checkpoint. We were directed through another checkpoint, again through a very narrow door (Russia needs wider doors!) Before we entered, Nina handed us our tickets for the return flight. They were only a formality, because we surrendered them just inside the checkpoint, and we were given boarding passes. We again waited for transfer buses, but this time they showed up quickly, and soon we were on the tarmac passing parked aircraft, mostly owned by Aeroflot, the old Soviet national airline. Most of the planes appeared to be at least 30 years old, and we saw at least one DC-8, a 40-year-old plane, all wearing the blue and white paint of Aeroflot or Pulkovo airlines.

We boarded the same airplane we had arrived on several hours earlier. The same crew and pilots greeted us. The plane quickly filled up, but we sat for almost an hour before the pilot announced that we would be leaving soon. Finally we taxied out to the runway and took off. It was nine PM and still daylight. The flight attendants handed out snacks and coffee and we settled in for the flight. It had been an exhausting day, and now we felt tired. We landed at Polkovo airport just after ten PM, and it was still twilight as we boarded another bus to take us back to the ship. Traffic in St. Petersburg was not nearly as bad as we had encountered in Moscow, and we moved quickly through the city toward the pier. We arrived at the ship at 10:30, and waited in line once again, this time to pass back through customs and to hand in our orange embarkation cards. The same women were on duty in the customs office, 15 hours later. Maybe that’s why they were so dour and unsmiling.

We walked up the gangplank into the wonderfully familiar Noordam. We went down to our cabin to unload our backpacks and jackets, and then went up to the Lido for a sandwich and dessert. We were very tired and we were a bit dazed by the intense experiences of the day. Others who had gone on the excursion wearily smiled and nodded to us. For the remainder of the cruise, those of us on the Moscow trip were treated as very minor celebrities; our experiences were becoming legendary.

Our second day in Russia began at 7:30 AM with a bus tour of St. Petersburg. We again walked down the gangplank toward the customs office. We were disappointed because the brass band was not there to greet us this time, but the sun was out and so far it was a pleasant dry day. The customs officials did not restamp our passports, but we were given the orange cards. Our guide Natasha met us at the bus, and we were soon heading into the city along the Moika Canal, one of several in the city. St. Petersburg was beautiful when it was built, Natasha told us many times. And it may have been true that many of the apartments inside the crumbling buildings were large and modernized, although we had no way of knowing for sure. The exteriors have obviously suffered from a decades-long lack of simple maintenance and repairs: caulking around windows and replacing broken glass, replacing stone window sills, repointing stone and brick work, cleaning gutters, and repainting wood and metal surfaces. Now, once-minor damage has become severe, and the image of the city has suffered.

St. Petersburg was built in 1703 by Peter the Great, who wanted a European-style capital for Russia. It was the capital until 1917, when the Bolsheviks moved it to Moscow. The city, now home to 4.7 million people, was called St. Petersburg until 1914, when it became Petrograd. In 1924, after the death of Lenin, it was renamed Leningrad. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1989, it reverted back to St. Petersburg. The original city was designed by Italian architects hired by Peter the Great because he was fascinated by Western Europe and he wanted his capital city, built on a series of islands like Venice Italy, to be as beautiful as possible. Both he and Catherine the Great eventually built summer palaces outside the city. The Italian-inspired green and white and gold Winter Palace and the adjacent Hermitage art museum form a massive building complex on the south bank of the Neva River, in the center of the city. The Winter Palace was the site of the October 1917 revolution when the last Czar, Nicholas II, was deposed and taken prisoner with his entire family and later executed.

St. Petersburg suffered a 900-day siege during World War II. Hundreds of thousands of residents died of starvation or wounds, and much of the city was destroyed. The residents are proud that the German army never captured the city, even though they suffered tremendously. Many monuments around the city commemorate this dark chapter in its history.

The Yusupov Palace on the Moika Canal was where Grigory Rasputin, the mystic and self-appointed priest and healer was murdered. Rasputin was a confidante and psychic of Czar Nicholas II’s wife Alexandra, but his strange and hypnotic hold on the royal family was distrusted by the Czar's court. In 1916, Rasputin was first poisoned, then stabbed, shot and beaten. Finally, he was dumped into the icy canal, where he apparently drowned.

We in a small park on the north side of the Neva River overlooking the river and the Peter & Paul Fortress, the oldest building in St. Petersburg. The later Czars who were not buried in the Kremlin in Moscow were buried here, including Nicolas II and his family, who were murdered in Siberia and lost until the early 1990’s. The tall gold- leaf spire of the old Admiralty building in the center of the fortress is a landmark and one of the symbols of the city. We had a good view of the Winter Palace across the river.

The Church of Spilled Blood, on the south side of the river, was built between 1883 and 1907 on the field where Czar Alexander II was killed when a bomb was thrown under his carriage by a terrorist group. The church was modeled after St. Basil’s in Moscow, but is larger and has more domes. The church is a museum and monument to Alexander.

We traveled along Nevsky Prospekt, the main shopping and residential street, on our way back to the ship. The street was active and bustling, with cars everywhere and people shopping or strolling on the sidewalks. We could see that the city was once a very beautiful place, but it was sad to see the neglect and damage everywhere.

We returned to the ship just before noon. We had no visa which would have allowed us to remain in the city on our own, so we had to return to the ship to await our afternoon tour of the Hermitage museum, scheduled for 1:15 PM. We had an hour in which to eat lunch in the Lido and stroll around the Upper Promenade deck.

Our afternoon tour guide was Nina, our Moscow tour guide. She recognized us and a few others from the day before, and she told the rest of the participants about some of our experiences. She described the unbelievable Moscow traffic and the rain and the crowds in unflattering terms. But she spoke glowingly of St. Petersburg and the Winter Palace and the Hermitage.

The Winter Palace and Hermitage were severely damaged during the revolution and World War II, but they had been repaired and restored since 1991. The Baroque exterior is pale green with white and gold trim. The interior is lavish, as one would expect of a royal palace. There are over 1000 rooms and over 100 staircases. The public rooms are reached via an ornate marble stairway decorated with cherubs, classical statues, large mirrors, and ornate crystal chandeliers. The public rooms are similarly decorated with intricately painted ceilings, heavy velvet curtains, tapestries, massive malachite ornamental urns, Corinthian columns carved from jasper, marble floors, and gold-leafed accents. The most impressive and intimidating room was the Great Throne Room: 50 feet long, red carpet, painted fresco ceiling, and a raised throne platform at the far end. In Soviet times, the throne and the backdrop tapestry was replaced with a giant hammer and sickle symbol. The room has now been restored to its original grandeur.

The Hermitage Museum contains about three million works of art. Catherine the Great, who bought 250 works of art from a German collector in the early 1800’s, started the collection. The collection was expanded over many years and was originally kept as a private personal collection of the Czars, handed down from generation to generation, open only to the Czar’s family and friends and foreign diplomats. It was opened to the public after the 1917 revolution, when it was "nationalized". The collection includes Rembrandts, at least one da Vinci, many European Impressionists, Renaissance paintings by Titian and Rubens, and sculptures by Michelangelo. We were surprised that the art is poorly protected by modern museum standards. Plain glass windows allow sunlight into the galleries, and in some cases the light falls directly on the paintings, many of which appear to be fading or too blue, an indication of damage by ultraviolet light. Several windows were propped open and the atmosphere felt damp, with no air conditioning to control humidity, heat, and dust. The old masters are fragile and very sensitive to their environmental conditions.

Our four-hour tour ended too quickly, and soon we were seated on the bus again, returning to the Noordam one more time. Our time in Russia had been short, but we learned a lot and saw many historical places. We boarded the Noordam at 5:30, and we sailed at six PM. We changed our clothes and went up on deck to pass the time before dinner. A tugboat nudged us out of our berth and out into the harbor, where we turned around and headed for Finland. As we sailed out of the harbor, we passed the Kronstad Naval Base, one of eastern Russia’s few warm-water ports. It was a surface fleet and submarine base during the Cold War, and was probably one of the most-studied pieces of real estate in the world. The base is now in poor condition, with crumbling sea walls, abandoned dry-docks, and rusting ships tethered to neglected piers.

The kitchen staff had prepared an outdoor barbecue on the Lido deck, so we decided to eat an early dinner and forgo the main dining room. We discussed our Russia experiences as we watched the Naval base and the Russian shore slide past. Later, we went to the Admiral’s lounge for a great show: singing, dancing, flashy costumes, and lots of talent. We gained an hour as we sailed westward.

Helsinki was rebuilt in 1812 after Czar Alexander II of Russia moved Finland’s capital from Turku to Helsinki. The old city was town down and rebuilt by Alexander’s favorite architect, Carl Engel of Germany. Engel had earlier designed much of St. Petersburg, so the original elements of Helsinki have some Russian influence. We began our tour at Senate Square, built in 1820 a few blocks from the waterfront as the focal point of the new city of Helsinki. Engel designed Tuomiokirkko Lutheran Church located on a hill at the north side of the Square. Its green domes and twin bell towers are visible from many areas of the city. Surrounding the Square are Helsinki University, the City Museum, City Hall, and the meeting hall for the Finnish State Council. In the center of the Square is a statue and monument honoring Czar Alexander II.

We walked west to the Rautatiesema Railroad Station, designed by Eliel Saarinen in 1904, a wonderful example of Art Nouveau architecture. The entry is guarded by giant stone figures that also bear lamps to light the exterior. The interior is quietly understated with intricate brick patterns and arched leaded glass windows. A tall brick clock tower capped with a green copper roof is a Helsinki landmark.

We walked toward Hosperiaparken, a serene city park next to Toolonlahti Lake. Finlandia Hall, an exhibition and lecture hall, is located at the south end of the park. It was designed by Alvar Aalto, another well-known Finnish architect. Unfortunately, Finlandia Hall was designed with a Carrera marble façade. Carrera marble is very porous and susceptible to water infiltration and subsequent damage after a period of years. The entire façade of this building is being replaced section by section, a process that will take years and millions of Euros.

Hosperiaparken was quiet during our Wednesday morning tour, but it is a popular spot during long summer evenings and on weekends. Helsinki is located at the 61^st parallel, so the summer days extend from sunrise at five AM to sunset after eleven PM. In the winter, by contrast, the sun is visible for only a few hours. Consequently, the Finns take advantage of every available hour of sunlight in the summer, and the "white nights" in June and July are coveted events. We stopped for coffee and pastries at a small restaurant with an outdoor patio, enjoying for a few minutes the flocks of ducks on the water, the dense green foliage around and above us, and the elegant light-conscious design of the restaurant.

The continuation of the tour brought us past the National Museum and the New Opera House. Visible a few blocks from the Opera House was the Olympic Stadium built for the 1952 Olympics. We walked through several small parks and typical neighborhoods of apartment buildings, ending the tour at the "Rock Church" a modern church carved out of a granite outcropping. The raw stone surfaces form the walls of the church sanctuary, and a copper dome forms the roof. The furniture and organ enclosure is constructed of teak. A band of windows between the roof and the rock lets in diffused light. The exposed stone is red, tan, and brown, and together with the honey-colored teak and diffused light provide a surprisingly warm interior atmosphere.

Our guide led us down the hill to the Esplanade, a long narrow park extending from Mannerheimintie, the main shopping street, to the harbor. Shuttle buses ran from the Esplanade to the ship all day; the last bus was at four PM. We had just over three hours to explore on our own. First, we found a currency exchange office, where we converted a few dollars into krone (about 7 krone to the dollar). Then we walked back to the railroad station. We had seen a small café inside the station, and we were excited to eat in such an historic building, and the food was surprisingly good. The workers knew a little English (it’s a second language for most Finns, and they speak it well), and we ordered lunch. As we ate, we enjoyed the sleek modern furniture and the sunlight coming through the leaded glass windows.

After lunch, we window-shopped, we walked through another small park, and we walked the length of the Esplanade, about a half-mile, to where it ended at the waterfront in an open-air market. The produce and fruit were beautiful and fresh, if a little more expensive than in New York. Many stalls offered fresh and smoked salmon and all types of bread. Many stalls sold handcrafts such as leather goods, woodcarvings, clothing, and paintings. The market was patronized by local residents buying produce, fish, and meat; and by tourists buying everything else. We saw a few familiar faces in the crowd, people from the ship enjoying the day and the food. We made our way slowly back up the Esplanade to the buses, taking in the sites along the way. President Musharraf of Pakistan was in town, and we saw his motorcade as it formed near the Esplanade to take him from the city to the airport. Security was extremely tight around him, and we didn’t want to stop to gawk. Besides, men with machine guns make us nervous. So we stopped to watch a woman performing with three trained cats and a dog. The cats actually performed tricks on command, much to our surprise. They were easily distracted, though, by the birds heckling them from the tree branches above.

The partly cloudy day turned rainy as we reached the shuttle bus and rode back to the ship. We had enjoyed ourselves, and we found that Helsinki is a wonderful place to visit, a quiet, peaceful city. The people are friendly and speak English, the city is clean and beautifully designed and is a compact city that encourages walking to fully appreciate its true beauty.

The ship left Helsinki Harbor while we strolled on the Upper Promenade Deck. Since we were so far north, the sun did not set until after eleven PM. We had a quiet dinner in the main dining room, discussing our Helsinki and Russia experiences over a nice glass of wine and several cups of coffee.

We saw two shows that night in the Admiral’s lounge. The first was a very funny magician with clever card tricks, slight of hand (where did those bowling balls come from?), and mental tricks. Later, members of the Indonesian crew performed songs and dances from their homeland. They were amateur actors and singers, but they got a very nice round of applause from the audience.

The Noordam had to negotiate a narrow channel amid about seventy islands to reach the pier in Stockholm. Many of the islands are small and uninhabited, but homes are built on most of the larger islands. The houses we saw were beautiful: yellow or white stucco, red tile or green metal roofs, heavily-laden rose bushes climbing the sides of the houses, small manicured lawns, and carefully trimmed hedges. The ship docked while we ate breakfast. Our tour bus was waiting at the pier under a nearly clear blue sky.

Stockholm was built on fourteen separate islands connected by bridges. Most of the islands are surrounded by salt water, but several surround Lake Malaren, an inland fresh-water lake. Locks connect the lake with the harbor, an elevation difference of about two feet. The islands are rocky, and a few rise about 150 feet above sea level. The buildings and streets are built on terraces on the sides of the hills. A hill on the north side of Sodermalm Island had an observation deck with a view of most of the city, and we could see the Noordam at its berth at Stadsgarden Terminal.

Our next stop was Stockholm City Hall on the north shore of Lake Malaren. It was built in 1923 and is most famous as the site of the annual Nobel Prize committee meetings and award ceremonies. The speaker’s podium is located halfway up the ceremonial stairway in the main hall. It was a humbling experience to stop for a moment at the podium to contemplate the caliber of ideas voiced from there

 over the years. We walked through the building, and then spent a few minutes out on the sunny lawn behind the building on the shore of the lake.

We reboarded the bus and rode back to Old Town for a walking tour and a lunch break. Old Town was first built in the 14^th century on the slopes of the rocky island. The Royal Palace, now used only for state ceremonies and Nobel Prize receptions, is located at the top of the hill and is "only" about 250 years old. As we walked the narrow cobblestone streets, our guide pointed out houses that were 300, 400, 500 years old, all in good condition, all in constant everyday use. The neighborhoods had dignified ancient-spirit calmness despite the throngs of tourists on the main shopping streets. Our walking tour ended at the square in front of the Royal Palace, where our guide released us for two hours for shopping or lunch. As we wandered away from the group, the palace guards began marching up the hill to prepare for their guard-changing ceremony. We had to wait for the guards and their accompanying brass band to march past before we could walk back down the hill to find a restaurant.

Most of the restaurants were full with the noon lunch rush, but we found a very nice outdoor restaurant on a side street a block away from the crowds. We had fresh sautéed pike with roasted potatoes and buerre blanc sauce, a nice salad, and ice cream with strawberries for dessert. The food was expensive, but the meal was relaxing.

After lunch, we walked back up the hill to rejoin our group for a tour of the Royal Palace. The king and queen live in another palace outside Stockholm, but the original living quarters and public rooms are intact and open for viewing. The rooms are lavishly decorated in Baroque style, and the inlaid wood floors are masterpieces of wood carving. The floors are protected by carpets that are removed for official functions. The décor includes paintings, tapestries, crystal chandeliers, and velvet draperies.

Our bus brought us back down the hill and out to the pier. It had been threatening to rain all day, but never did. The ship sailed at six PM, and retraced its route through the island archipelago. We ate dinner in the main dining room, and then relaxed in the Lido restaurant with coffee while we read and talked and watched the beautiful little islands slip by in the late evening twilight.

The Island of Gotland is a Swedish state located in the middle of the Baltic. The largest town, Visby, has port facilities for ferries traveling to Stockholm, Riga, and Helsinki, but the Noordam was anchored out in the harbor to allow the ferries unimpeded access to the terminal. Instead, we were brought ashore on 100-passenger tenders; the Noordam has four such boats as part of its 16-lifeboat fleet. The harbor was choppy, and the relatively small boats bounced around as we neared the pier.

Our tour bus was waiting with our guide Lisa to drive us down the west coast of the island. The town of Visby was founded in the ninth century, and was a major trading port of the Hanseatic League in the 13^th and 14^th centuries, a confederation of merchant groups traveling throughout Germany, Scandinavia, and the Baltic ports. Visby was also a major Viking port for voyages toward Russia and the Baltic cities. Lisa told us emphatically that Vikings never wore horns on their helmets!

We drove north toward Visby along the west coast. Along the way, we visited a graveyard near Frojel where ancient stones had been arranged in the shape of a Viking longboat. The significance of the stone formation was still being debated but it seems to be a monument to a long forgotten Viking chieftain. A young colt greeted us as we climbed a wood stairway over the fence into the graveyard. Its pregnant mother nervously watched us from a safe distance, but the colt was enjoying making friends with the tourists.

Our next stop was a small fishing village at Guisvard, a small fishing village with many small fishing and pleasure boats in a marina. Further north, we stopped at Hogklint, a cliff overlooking the Baltic, the harbor, and the town of Visby. Much of the original town wall and its defensive towers are visible, and we could see the Noordam riding at anchor amid white-capped waves.

Our bus made its way back into Visby and stopped at Almedalen Park just outside the town wall. At one time, this beautiful park was a tidal mud flat, but now has dozens of large rose bushes in full bloom, lush green grass, and wide gravel walks. The Powder Tower at the north end of the park is one of the oldest structures in the town, built in the 13^th century. It has been used as an arsenal, a prison, and a storehouse, but is now empty. Lisa explained that medieval Visby ha d a working sewer system utilizing cesspits, wood pipes, and rainwater cisterns that flushed the system on a regular basis…essentially flush toilets in medieval times.

We walked along the cobblestone street just inside the town wall. The ancient houses fronting the street are still in use and are adorned with climbing rose bushes. We bought postcards at a small shop, and then headed back to the town pier to catch a ride on one of the tenders back to the ship.

The wind was coming up and the sea was getting rougher as we waited for the four tenders to shuttle back and forth from the ship. The sun was shining as we waited on the pier, but heavy clouds were approaching from the west. The trip from the pier to the ship took only ten minutes. We boarded the ship, brought our things down to our cabin, and then went up to the Lido for lunch. We set sail at 1:30 PM. It was raining by then, and the ship was buffeted by heavy seas. All afternoon, as we did our laundry, the ship was bouncing around. Walking was an adventure because you had to anticipate where to put your foot down on each step to avoid staggering around. Everyone took it in stride, and only a few people were sick. The bow waves crashed over our porthole, plunging our cabin in dark green fury at times. We were exhausted from a full week of early tours and late nights, so we ate an early dinner in the Lido and retired early to read and to catch up on our sleep. The heavy seas continued all night, but we slept soundly amid the sound of crashing waves.

Our Berlin tour left the ship at 7:30 AM. We walked from the Warnemunde pier to the nearby train station, where a chartered train waited for us. We were assigned to Coach E, a first-class car with several six-seat compartments. We were each given a white bag containing a "light" snack: a ham-and-cheese sandwich, an apple, a banana, a juice box, a bottle of water, and a candy bar. We had eaten breakfast before leaving the ship, so we kept most of it for later.

The train rolled through flat farmland on the way from the coast toward Berlin. The sky was partly cloudy, with heavy gray clouds on the horizon. The farms along the track were adorned in mid-summer colors: soft green rye and alfalfa, yellow-gold wheat, dark green beans and spinach. The farmhouses ranged from very old to very new and were clustered in villages that dotted the landscape. Our train was shunted off onto sidings several times to allow faster regular-service trains to pass. Our compartment mates talked with us for a short while, but then we settled down for naps.

We stopped first at a remnant of the Berlin Wall. Most of the wall had been torn down in 1991, but parts of it are still standing and serve as monuments and memorials to the individuals who died trying to escape into West Berlin. The wall remnants are covered with graffiti. Wherever the wall had been removed, bricks are set into the pavement to show where it once stood. The wall was 160 kilometers (100 miles) long and completely encircled West Berlin to prevent East Germans from escaping into West Berlin. West Berlin was first isolated by a barbed wire barrier laid down in one weekend in August 1961. The precast concrete wall was four meters (13 feet) high and was constructed in one-meter sections. A second wall was constructed a few yards inside the outer wall. East German guards patrolled both sides of the main wall with dogs, searchlights, and machine-gun towers that formed kill zones the entire length of the wall. It arbitrarily separated parents from children, workers from jobs, and friends from friends for thirty years.

Our next stop was "Checkpoint Charlie" one of a series of border crossing gates that controlled travelers crossing in either direction. It its original configuration, the checkpoint consisted of a series of barricades that required a driver to negotiate several hairpin turns, preventing anyone from ramming a car straight through. Now the checkpoint has been reduced to the original guardhouse in the middle of Friedrichstrasse, with new buildings all around it. When it was operational, there were no buildings within hundreds of feet of the checkpoint.

We drove a few blocks north on Fredrichstrasse to the Gendarmennarkt, Berlin’s concert hall built in 1871 to celebrate Germany’s victory in the Franco-Prussian war. The concert hall is flanked by the French cathedral and the German cathedral. The Franco-Prussian war took a heavy toll on both countries and led to the installation of German’s second republic headed by Chancellor Bismarck. The Sacre Coeur Cathedral in Paris was built at the same time to atone for France’s loss in the same war.

Lunch was provided for us at the Lowenbrau Braustube on Liepzingerstrasse. We were served a buffet lunch of sausages, chicken wings, salads, sauerkraut, and steamed vegetables. We of course had a glass of beer, and we had cherry cobbler and coffee for dessert.

After lunch, we crossed the center of Berlin for an hour-long stop at the KaDeWe department store for shopping or free time. We didn’t want to shop, so we strolled down Karfurstenstrasse amid the Saturday afternoon shopping crowds. We stopped at an ATM to withdraw a few Euros, and then found a small busy outdoor coffee place. We drank espresso while we enjoyed the colorful crowds and the sunlight fighting through the heavy storm clouds that had gathered while we were eating lunch. The Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church at the end of the street was heavily damaged by bombing during World War II, and its damaged spire was preserved in its damaged state. A modern steel bell tower was constructed next to it.

We reboarded the bus and rode further west to the Charlottenberg Castle, which belonged to one of Germany’s ruling families in the 1880’s. We stopped for pictures of the exterior; a tour of the interior was not on our itinerary.

We headed back to the east side of the city to visit the Brandenburg Gate, probably the most recognized landmark in Berlin. It became the symbol of the destruction of the Berlin wall when thousands of people converged in 1989 on the square in front of the Brandenburg Gate with sledgehammers, cheering as pieces of concrete fell away. To stand under the gate, touching those famous limestone columns, was a moving experience because the Gate was off limits to West Berliners for thirty years. A stripe of red bricks set into the pavement of the square is all that is left to remind us of where the wall once stood. People and cars move freely across that line, but just fifteen years ago, that line was absolute and impenetrable. A Room of Silence was located in a building adjacent to the north wing of the Gate, a non-denominational prayer and meditation room that is absolutely silent when you are sitting inside. The only sounds come from one’s own breathing and heartbeat and the rustling of clothing. We sat down for five minutes, alone with our thoughts in absolute silence, just a few feet away from crowds of tourists and vendors. With no distractions, we realized the intense emotional energy of the place and we couldn’t believe that we were sitting in a structure that was once one of the epicenters of the Cold War.

The Reichstag is two blocks north of the Brandenburg Gate the location of reunified Germany’s government. The interior of the building was burned in 1933 by Hitler’s storm troopers, but blamed on the Communists then vying for power in parliament. Hitler’s National Socialist Party was elected to a majority of seats in parliament, and Hitler gained absolute power over the government and the country when Paul Hindenburg gave up control. The Reichstag’s dome was further destroyed in World War II bombing raids and was replaced a few years ago with a futuristic glass dome. Modern government office buildings flank the 19^th century Reichstag, a stark contrast between the old and the new.

Rain was falling heavily as we approached our final stop, the Berlin Dome Cathedral. The Lutheran Cathedral was built in 1905 with a neo-renaissance style. It was severely damaged during World War II, but has been reconstructed. The interior is beautifully ornate and brightly lit, and the gold leaf and painted icons glowed in the light. A Saturday night service was about to begin, so we had to leave quickly.

We traveled back to the train station along Karl Marx Strasse and a wide boulevard once called Leninstrasse. Soviet-era apartment buildings lined both sides of the street for miles. Some had been remodeled and modernized, some have not, and the contrast was stark. As we saw in Moscow and St. Petersburg, the original design of the buildings gave the buildings no soul. The windows were set flush with the concrete block facades, resulting in flat featureless faces. The doorways were open and unprotected in many of the buildings, and several first floor shops were boarded up. The facades of the repaired buildings consisted of multi-colored tiles and bricks, modern window frames, and added ornamentation to give life and character. The first floor shops appeared to be open and busy.

The train was waiting and the compartments slowly filled up as buses returned from many tours of Berlin. This time our compartment mates were two Mexican couples. The six of us talked for a while, and then our dinner snack was delivered: cold hamburger and turkey sandwiches, fruit, water, and a candy bar. We ate and then napped as we headed north. Again, we were forced to wait for faster trains to pass, and we spent many minutes on sidings. We arrived in Warnemunde at 9:30 PM and walked to the ship. Our published sailing time was ten PM, but we were delayed for a half-hour while everyone got back on board. Since a Holland-America tour was late and not a private tour, the ship was obligated to wait for us.

We didn’t need to eat dinner, but the Lido was serving the usual late-night snack earlier than usual. We had coffee and dessert while the ship pulled out of the harbor and headed toward Copenhagen. The sea was moderately rough, but not like it had been the night before.

We had nothing to do today but to sit back and enjoy the last day of the cruise as we passed between the Danish islands. As we were eating breakfast, we crossed under the spectacular bridge at Osterreenden, a massive bridge and tunnel complex that links two islands. Later, we attended a mandatory farewell talk explaining the luggage and disembarkation procedures for the next day. Afterward, we did our laundry again and began to pack. The ten day cruise had gone much too quickly.

We docked in Copenhagen early in the morning. Our luggage had been collected the night before, and we carried only a few last-minute items. We were among the last to leave the ship because we were staying in Copenhagen that night and did not need to get to the airport. While we waited, we wandered for the last time through the now-familiar decks, taking pictures of our favorite places. We finally left the ship at about ten AM, claimed our luggage, and got into a taxi. We had reservations at the Ibsen’s Hotel for two nights. Our taxi driver claimed he knew where the hotel was located, and we showed him the hotel’s business card, but he drove past it. When we protested, he told us that there was more than one Ibsen’s Hotel, which we doubted. He finally backtracked and found the hotel. That’s the first cab ride we’ve ever taken where there was no tip.

We were at least four hours too early to check in, so we left our luggage in the hotel’s storeroom and went out for a walk. We went first to Norreport Station to determine the easiest way to buy tickets and get ourselves to the airport in two days. We found the ticket office and figured out the train schedule. With that item off our minds, we had two days to explore Copenhagen. We headed south on Norregade to the Christiansborg castle, the seat of Danish government. Originally the King’s palace, the castle now houses Parliament, the Prime Minister’s offices, the Supreme Court, and the royal reception rooms. As we walked through the courtyard, we saw a few people from our ship, and at least one Holland-America tour bus passed us on its way to the airport.

We were tired of touring, so we just began walking, first to Vester Voldgade, a major shopping street, and then to Radjuspladsen, an open plaza adjacent to Copenhagen’s city hall. It was lunchtime by then, so we stopped at an open-air café for sandwiches and coffee. As we ate, we agreed that we were more in a mood to wander than to find anything specific. We relaxed over our coffee as the Monday afternoon crowds milled about. The sky was heavy and gray, and it was threatening to rain, but only sprinkled once in a while. We resumed walking and passed Tivoli Gardens, an amusement park, and found ourselves in the newer part of the city, off of the typical tourist map.

We walked south to the river and sat down on a bench to take in the view. The river is actually a salt-water channel between islands. A tour boat pulled in to the landing in front of us and tied up. We were sitting at one of their regular stops, but we didn’t realize it at the time. We decided to go along for a tour of the canals to see the city from sea level. The low open boat had seats for 50 or 60, but there were only about 20 people on board. As we headed up the river to the next stop, the helmsman allowed a young boy to steer the boat. He was quite excited at the power he possessed for those few minutes and had a big smile on his face when he sat down with his mother.

When we entered the canal surrounding Christiansborg, we found out why the boat was so low: the bridges over the canal were only a few inches above our heads as we passed under them. We had walked over a few of those bridges only a couple of hours before. We passed through another canal on the south side of the river that was lined with sailboats, houseboats, and cabin cruisers. Many people live on their boats, and the floating neighborhood was thriving with people relaxing on their decks or performing household chores in the unusually cool midsummer air.

Our canal tour ended at a new library at the north side of the river. We walked through the modern glass lobby to a beautiful old garden between 100-year-old buildings behind the new library. We walked east, past Christiansborg, to Nyhavn Canal, which is lined with outdoor restaurants, colorful umbrellas and signs, and well-preserved old warehouses that now house dozens of restaurants. We stopped for coffee and a snack and then decided to make our way back to the hotel for a nap. After checking in and sitting down to watch television for a couple of hours, we went downstairs to eat in the Northern Italian restaurant that shared the hotel lobby. We ordered the chef’s special three-course dinner: a salmon tureen with hollandaise sauce, grilled veal chop with mashed potatoes and carrots, and a berry tart for dessert. After dinner, we went out for a short walk before going upstairs to bed.

We had a late breakfast in the lobby restaurant, a mistake because the croissants were gone by then. But the sliced meat and cheese and hearty country bread were delicious and the coffee was good and strong.

We didn’t have any specific agenda for today, so we just wandered. We knew about a nice park a few blocks from the hotel, so we headed there. The flowerbeds were in full bloom with brilliant purples, reds, and yellows. The air was heavy with the scent of roses and dewy fresh-cut grass, and we took our time walking and taking pictures. Many sculptures dot the park, including several bronzes depicting lions attacking their prey. The power and horror frozen in those images was fascinating and we sat for a while on a park bench contemplating at a sculpture of a lion and a zebra locked in a mortal duet.

We headed east through an older part of town with narrow streets and mustard-yellow houses, to the Kastellet, a fort on the edge of the river, an unspectacular active military barracks surrounded by a high earthen berm, a moat, and a narrow green park. We found a little café in the park where we ordered coffee and sandwiches for lunch. Later we skirted the east side of the fort and walked to the river, where a bronze sculpture of the "Little Mermaid," made famous by a Hans Christian Anderson story, perches forever on a tall rock in the water. This small sculpture is one of the best-known images of Denmark. Tour buses lined the streets leading to the sculpture and crowds of tourists snapped pictures.

We walked west along the river, passing through Amalienborg Slotsplads, the residence of Queen Margarethe. As we walked through, we saw the red-coated, fur-hat-wearing guards walking their beats, and we saw the guard-changing ceremony, a very low-key affair.

It was raining off and on, and the cool fresh air had tired us out. We went back to the hotel at mid-afternoon. We watched television for a while, and then decided to go downstairs to find a restaurant for dinner. Our first choice, the Spanish restaurant we had enjoyed on our first night, was closed for two weeks, but we found a Japanese restaurant next door. It was a good decision because the food was incredible: five different types of sushi, followed by five skewers of grilled meat and fish, along with miso soup and rice. The flavors were fresh, and the service was very friendly and pleasant. We stayed at our table for almost three hours talking about our cruise before we went upstairs to pack for our trip home.

We ate an early breakfast (we were in time for the croissants today) and then went out for a final walk around the neighborhood. The wind and drizzle made walking unpleasant, so we cut our walk short and hurried back to the hotel. We checked out and walked to Norreport Station with our luggage. The rain held off. We bought train tickets and rode an elevator down to the underground platform. The train came after twenty minutes, and was almost empty. The ride took less than a half-hour, and brought us to the platform under the airport terminal. We had to walk a short distance to find the British Airways check-in counter, where we were given our seat assignments. Our luggage was checked through to New York. We had plenty of time before our flight, so we went in search of coffee and snacks and souvenirs.

The flight to London Heathrow was an uneventful two hours, and we set our watches back an hour en route. We landed in the rain and taxied across the airfield to the terminal. Apparently, two planes had bumped wingtips just before we landed, tying up traffic to and from the terminal gates. We had a three-hour layover, so an extra half-hour of sitting on the tarmac did not bother us. We arrived at Terminal 4, and had to board a bus for a 15-minute trip to Terminal 3 on the opposite side of the airport.

The line at the American Airlines desk was long, and we had to wait another 45 minutes to check in. We were given boarding passes and then exchanged all of our European money for dollars. The gate was at the furthest point of the terminal, and we got there just a few minutes before they began boarding. The 777 has two seats next to the windows, and we had seats over the wing. Each seat had a small television screen, although the sound and video quality were poor on some of the channels. There were no kids near us this time, but the woman sitting across the aisle from us was a bit of a loon, talking to herself, getting up and down, and squirming restlessly. Her karma earned her a just reward, however, because the 10-year-old boy next to her filled up four or five airsick bags during the last couple of hours of the flight.

We were in the air for just under eight hours. The flight was smooth except for some turbulence over the coast of Ireland and again over the east coast of the United States. We were fed dinner just after we took off and a breakfast snack just before we landed. The clouds were heavy most of the way, and we chased the setting sun, finally losing it just before we landed at Kennedy. The clouds were heavy in New York, and it had been raining. We taxied for a while after landing, and then stopped within sight of the terminal building, waiting for the planes at the gates to begin to taxi out. A heavy storm had gone through an hour before we landed, closing the airport and backing up ground traffic. We began moving a half-hour later and soon were near our gate, but we stopped again to wait for the ground crew to tow us the final few feet. We had to wait for a free tow truck, and when it was finally connected, we stopped again, this time because a catering truck was parked in the wrong spot and the keys were missing. Everyone in the cabin just laughed at this last bit of news, and even the pilot was a little amused in his announcements to us. At last, an hour after landing, we rolled to a stop at the gate and the seatbelt sign winked off.

Our final hurdle was to get through customs. We had to fill out an immigration form that asked where we had been. We were afraid that our trip to Russia might be a red flag to them, but they didn’t give us a second look, except to welcome us home as they stamped our passports.

We grabbed our luggage and headed outside in the heavy humid air to the Airtrain station. We rode to Jamaica station, and transferred to the subway. We arrived home about 90 minutes after stepping off the plane.