3. Cuxhaven
As far as I was concerned, the ship was still pointing in the wrong direction
and it was beginning to get a little tiresome – day 3 and we were still nowhere
near
Like Ijmuiden, I’d never heard of Cuxhaven, though it did offer a rather more interesting vista from the ship’s windows. The only industry that seemed to be around was connected with fishing – no giant docks and cranes to contend with this time. The town could clearly be seen in the distance and some kind of old tower was poking up in the middle of it in a vaguely ‘come up and see me’ sort of way. Once again, a half-day trip was available, this time to Bremen, but I’d decided against it in favour of a lie in and possibly a visit to the ship’s cinema. In the end though, the view of the little town proved too much for my curiosity and, after a late breakfast, I set off on foot to explore.
It was quite a walk just to get out of the dock area and through the extremely long passenger terminal. Once outside, a little bridge took me over a largish canal and onto a proper road. This was lined with warehouses, their original purpose long forgotten, now refurbished into a series of little shops. I sauntered slowly along trying to read some of the German signs – I had passed O level German 31 years previously which obviously stood me in good stead. I certainly recognised the word for fish. Various doors and windows revealed fishing rods, fishing apparel, boat parts and yacht sails, pet shops devoted entirely to fish, sailing manuals and charts and, of course, many types of seafood. I was getting the idea.
Then strangely, about half way along, there was a pub. A pub with a fishing theme to the décor, but a pub nevertheless. The door was open and I could see people inside, clutching their fishy purchases and drinking beer. I decided that I’d venture in on my way back. I completed the remainder of fish row, or whatever it was called, which brought me out onto a more conventional road that led to a junction. There were more conventional shops to go with it, a lot of houses and roads going off in various directions. I wondered which of them led to the centre and the slightly flirtatious tower I’d seen from the boat. I crossed a couple of roads and started to walk along a residential street which looked like it might lead to the centre. I never found out.
As I was walking along I could see that there was some sort of community hall ahead. Lots of cars were parked outside and there were people gathered on the pavement looking in. As I got nearer I became aware of a pounding musical rhythm beating out and nearer still I realised that it was Indian music. I reached the hall and joined the little group who were peering inside. We could clearly see a man and woman standing in the middle of the hall, surrounded by a circle of people who were dancing with joined hands slowly clockwise around them. They were all in highly colourful traditional costume and it dawned on me that this must be an Indian wedding.
The combination of the music and the movement was extremely mesmeric. The loud
driving music and the slow, deliberate dance around the bride and groom seemed
to be designed to hypnotically bind them together. It was like looking into
a sort of space and time warp, a ceremony that was probably hundreds of years
old from a far away country taking place in this little hall in a small German
town. I realised that this must be relatively commonplace around Europe now, but it was the first
time I’d encountered such an event and I was feeling a little disorientated,
if you’ll pardon the expression. One thing I definitely hadn’t expected to
see in Cuxhaven was an Indian wedding.
In fact I hadn’t planned to see Cuxhaven at all; it had just crept
up on me on my way to
People started to emerge from the hall and clapped as the bride and groom made their exit and climbed into a car. I decided to retreat at this point, I no longer had time to explore the town any further and I suddenly felt the need for some coffee. I made my way back to fish row and headed for the pub I’d seen. I spent a pleasant half hour surrounded by walls decked with sea charts, fishing nets hanging from the ceiling and an old diving suit, made to stand as though there was someone inside it. I tried to listen to the conversations of the other customers and staff with the aid of my
distant schoolboy German but soon gave up after a few tortuous prepositions. I just sat back and enjoyed what was obviously a very convivial atmosphere and decided that my little expedition had been worth it just for the slice of Cuxhaven life I’d witnessed in such a short space of time.
Back on the boat after lunch I went up to the top deck to watch the goings on around the harbour and the view back over the town. The come up and see me tower was now sulking because I hadn’t. I know that I probably shouldn’t mention the war, but I couldn’t help imagining the scene sixty years previously. This must have been a hive of activity for the German navy and highly guarded. I supposed that it must have been heavily bombed too. Looking back across the passenger terminal I could imagine it crawling with soldiers and sailors and staff cars buzzing to and from the boats.
At three o clock we finally set sail. With the German passengers now on board the ship had its full complement and was suddenly very much busier. The Captain chose this time, probably quite correctly, to have an emergency drill. This involved everyone returning to their cabins at the given signal to retrieve their lifejackets, put them on and then assemble at their given muster point back up on deck. This, variously, caused mirth, confusion, panic and very nearly an international incident when a German lady appeared to steal the whistle from a Dutch lady’s lifejacket and they started arguing very loudly while blocking one of the key exits. Eventually we all assembled in the correct places and laughed at each other looking silly in our emergency attire. Cue the ship’s pest. She appeared from a doorway and started snapping away and seemed to be under the impression that this was highly amusing. I more or less barged my way to the side of the ship, turned my back and leaned over the rail in order to avoid her. She still tried to attract my attention, calling ‘photo sir’, at me, but I managed to hold out. I’d levelled the scores at least for the time being.
That evening the first of the formal dinners was held, which gave those with
expensive evening wear the chance to show off and the rest of us a pain in
the neck. I really don’t know why they persist with such an outmoded custom
other than to satisfy the desires of some people to feel superior to others.
I’d reluctantly brought with me some black trousers, a white shirt, blazer
and tie which I stuffed myself into and took myself off to the restaurant
hoping that the meal wouldn’t last for too long. I skipped the sweet that
evening, made my excuses and rushed back to my cabin to change – you’ll gather
that I hate formal dress – it’s just so damned uncomfortable. I retired to
the main bar, gratefully took possession of a nice cool lager and sat looking
out of the window into what seemed like a completely black night. It was
then it occurred to me that at last we were pointing in the right direction – north!
Tomorrow we would finally reach
1. Dover
2. Ijmuiden
3. Cuxhaven
4. Bergen
6. Trondheim
7. Olden - the Briksdal glacier
9. Stavanger