Titanic Centennial and Other Matters of the Water

This week, the world is remembering the centennial of the Titanic tragedy with events to match every lifestyle. Perhaps you visited a museum or exhibition commemorating the event, or cruised to the crash site in the Atlantic Ocean, where passengers were encouraged to dress the part, take a look: A Dispatch from the Titanic Memorial Cruise

My fine hometown of St. Louis, Missouri, hosted an event at the Fabulous Fox Theatre: "Step back in time and experience the history, fashion, food and music of the elegant Edwardian Era with “Last Dinner On The Titanic," a celebration of the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic." Is it appropriate to celebrate the anniversary of a tragedy? Remembrance might have been a better choice of words.

The "unsinkable" monster of a ship was a stalwart seafaring vessel to be sure, not unlike those that ply the waters today. Cruise ships. Ocean liners. Ferries.

I have embarked on a few ocean journeys myself, in places like Greece, Indonesia, and Malaysia. A few were interesting, to say the least: riding with cockroaches from Sumatra to Nias island, in the heart of Indonesian earthquake/tsunami territory; rocking back and forth amongst breathtaking scenery en route from Santorini Island to Athens, Greece, while a multitude of passengers vomited over the railing during the eight-hour ride.

And then there was the mother lode of them all. Sumatra to Jakarta, a 2-night, 3 day odyssey on a ship (hopefully) large enough to quell the fears ignited by those ubiquitous reports of sinking ferries in South East Asia. Pelni, the government-run passenger line, mans the ships that ply the waters in the archipelago that is Indonesia, a country of 17,000 islands. This particular boat was cruise-ship-like in appearance from the outside, big, broad, sturdy-looking, everything a passenger would hope for when embarking on such a journey.

Pelni ship

Penny pinching, I opted for economy class, which looked a little something like this:

Economy class "cots"

Packed in amongst the locals who also eschewed first, second, and third class, I was allotted a tiny space, the size of a cot, for the three-day journey. For an extra charge, you could buy a pad for the hard, wooden platform that would serve as bed, lounge and dining area. My trusty Therma-Rest was the perfect accessory for this ride. Really, the accommodations were fine, I didn't need much space, and the locals were all quite friendly. I did, however, felt a wee bit like an animal in a zoo, as curious eyes watched my every move. See the foreigner eat. See the foreigner sleep. Does the foreigner read? She does! And she showers, too! A few brave souls engaged me in conversation, and some tried to direct me to the mosque for daily prayers.

The social highlight of the voyage was disco bar night, where I listened to a groovy band, watched the man I nicknamed Captain Stubing getting down to a funky beat, and was invited to dance by a large man with a wispy mustache.

Although the food left a little bit to be desired, three meals a day were included in the cost of the ticket, so rice and bland vegetables served on a tin tray, prison style, did the trick. Not quite the elegant food of the Edwardian era that my fellow St. Louisans must have enjoyed at the "Last Dinner on the Titanic" celebration, but enough for me.