ABOARD THE SS NORWAY – Norwegian Cruise Line’s SS Norway, the oldest liner cruising the Caribbean, invariably offers the lowest-priced seven-day cruises. Now 40 years old and bravely steaming among brassy newcomers, it would seem from her fares that the Norway is a ship on which few people want to sail.
But it was precisely the ship on which I wanted to sail. For me this classic lady, formerly the transatlantic liner SS France and still the longest passenger vessel, held more appeal than any of those huge, new, floating boxes.
Granted a stay of execution last year and confirmed to continue her weekly sailings from Miami only until April 2004, time was running out. The low fare was a further impetus to book.
One cloud of doubt hovered over me: Would the Norway, after her several rebuilds, refits and refurbishments, deliver the Old World experience I was looking for? Or would she be unrecognizable as a once-glorious liner, transformed merely to a three-star floating beer hall and buffet?
The answer proved to be a bit of both.
In her day, the SS France was the most revered liner on the Atlantic run – albeit one of the last. Taken out of service in 1974, an injury to the French national pride, she was laid up until 1979 when Norwegian shipping magnate Lauritz Kloster decided to renew her as a showpiece cruiser. Kloster bought the ship for less than the scrap value of her metal, $18 million, and spent another $120 million renovating her for warm-weather service.
Today the liner is as handsome as ever. Ships decay quickly if not constantly nurtured, and under NCL stewardship the Norway has clearly been meticulously maintained. “She is 10 times harder to keep clean than a new ship,” Capt. Frank Juliussen proclaimed in part complaint, part boast. Her hull, more than double the thickness of modern ship hulls, looks new, sculpted of 30-foot steel plates, none of which is perfectly flat.
Though simply furnished and faded around the edges, the cabins boast original, not retro, ’60s style. Oval mirrors, metal commodes, chrome trim, spindle legs – one could imagine Rob and Laura Petrie (no relation to the author) settling in here.
Moving about the ship I felt as if I was time-warping between the SS France and a 1980s Holiday Inn. The stairwells, particularly those that had served first-class areas, gleam with the original ’60s deco revival look, with stainless steel railings and walls of brushed aluminum. These look astonishingly contemporary.
The Norway has a large casino, shops, an Internet caf, a bistro and an outdoor buffet restaurant, none of which existed on the SS France.
The ship has been largely reinvented, but for three rooms: the former first-class smoking lounge, now called Club Internationale, the theater and the former first-class Chambord Restaurant, now dubbed the Windward Dining Room.
A second dining room, the Leeward, which had been reserved for tourist-class passengers back when, has been gussied up to be as attractive as the Windward. But it’s in the Windward that one smells a whiff of history.
A broad staircase sweeps into the room, expressly designed for making the “grand entrance.” In the days of the SS France, this room was declared the finest French restaurant in the world. (Today it serves continental cuisine that is consistently very good.) A domed ceiling with twinkling lights still creates an illusion of a starlit sky. Original murals adorn the walls, depicting elegant nubile figures, hand-painted on metal.
Metal, I noted, tapping them with a fingernail, and a detail of my research came back to me: the SS France contained hardly a splinter of wood.
In the era of the Jetsons, push-button automatic cars and suburban streets given names like Atomic Drive, the designers wanted to create a “space age” ship, replete with the chic materials of the day – chrome, aluminum and vinyl.
It also was the dawn of jet travel, a development that meant the SS France would seldom turn a profit, and the death knell for the entire transatlantic steamship tradition.
Even on her outer decks there is very little wood. Her promenade deck, relegated in signage to “jogging track,” is not of the traditional teak but a rubberized material lain down on steel, now pitted and worn. In other areas, the decks are shoddily covered in plastic mesh or worn Astroturf. Even the main pool deck aft is covered in a vinyl imitation of hardwood. It all looks rather sad, and the disappointment is compounded by a lack of outdoor seating away from the clamor of the main pool. On the “jogging track” sit only a few Wal-Mart plastic chairs, chained to the railing.
The France was built for the cold north Atlantic, so she has a broad indoor promenade where her passengers would recline on teak lounges and take in the sea air, weather permitting, through massive windows. Now this indoor promenade is a shopping mall, the windows sealed shut in favor of air conditioning, and there are no lounge chairs. Amid the shops is a sports bar, a cold, spare space with little more than a pool table and a few TV screens making up the decor.
The handsome theater, with its expansive upper balcony, looks as it did in black-and-white photos of 40 years ago, and hosts nightly variety shows that, typically for cruise ships, vary from very good to quite bad.
I couldn’t help but get the feeling that Norwegian Cruise Line doesn’t quite know what to do with the Norway. She’s famous and beautiful enough to keep, but new competition means she can only be filled with deep discounts, and low fares bring a certain class of passenger, one not much interested in marine history or glamour. So NCL walks a difficult line between keeping her elegance alive and catering to the tastes of those who will board her. Hence the ship’s split personality.
The best spot on board, to my mind, the last lingering pice de resistance, is that old smoking lounge, the now non-smoking Club Internationale. Still much as it was 40 years ago, with new carpeting on its bi-level floor and new draperies covering windows that soar two decks high, this room alone provides the elegant throwback to the transatlantic era I was seeking. White columns support a roof still hung with the original lighting fixtures, and the original statues of Poseidon still stand in their alcoves.
It is truly a beautiful room, yet underutilized. A dress code keeps the beer-and-T-shirt crowd at bay. Even during the white-gloved afternoon tea service the room is seldom full. A breezy jazz trio plays in the evenings, and on the second formal night of the cruise a film was shown on the wall depicting the SS France’s inaugural transatlantic voyage.
It was a marvelous experience, and helped take me back to another time, on another ocean, on this ship.
Glen Petrie is a freelance writer who lives in Toronto.
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If you go
The SS Norway sails seven-day Eastern Caribbean cruises every Sunday from Miami, visiting St. Martin, St. Thomas and NCL’s private island in the Bahamas, until April 2004. Her future after that date is undecided.
My friend and I each paid $265 including port charges, plus $58 in other taxes, in the fall season for the cheapest cabin with two beds on the floor. Bunk-bed cabins cost less. Prices are slightly higher in the peak winter season, from $299 including port charges. $10 per person per day is recommended to cover tips.
Reservations or information: 800-327-7030; www.ncl.com.
– Glen Petrie
