On the morning of our departure from Barcelona, Spain, I opened the drapes at the Grand Marina Hotel and saw The Ship.
That gigantic ocean liner, European Stars, our home for the next week, had docked right outside our window as we slept.
As we looked it over, a man and a woman in terry-cloth robes emerged from their stateroom onto their little veranda. They embraced and began twirling like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
Not a bad little prelude for a swing around the Mediterranean: warm Catalan sunshine in our faces, magical Barcelona beyond our hotel window, the Mediterranean beckoning and a big luxury liner awaiting our pleasure, a ship so romantic that passengers tango before drinking their orange juice.
My wife, Juju, and I would be among the newcomers joining the seven-day European Stars cruise that spends each week from May through November visiting seven ports along the Mediterranean Sea -- a different city every 24 hours.
Today, Friday, we would sail from Barcelona at 6 p.m. Then, Saturday morning, we would arrive in Marseille, France. Sunday, Genoa, Italy. Monday, Naples, Italy. Tuesday, Messina, Sicily, Italy. Wednesday, Tunis, Tunisia. Thursday, Palma, Majorca, Spain. And Friday, Barcelona again.
Festival Cruises, the parent company of European Stars and other ships, set up a system that would let passengers board at different ports and, on their last day, disembark where they had started.
Americans, for example, were encouraged to begin and end their voyage in Barcelona, because it offers the best trans-Atlantic connections of any port on the schedule.
Lively Barcelona
Juju and I never tire of Barcelona and its flamboyant yet elegant architecture, its lively street scenes, terrific museums and food that we can't find anywhere else. Some of the motor coaches lined up across from European Stars that morning would be taking passengers on a quickie tour of the city's delights. We prefer strolling, combined with local transportation.
We wandered through town on our own, starting with a promenade up La Rambla, the main pedestrian walkway. Some of the most imaginative mimes in Europe work La Rambla; that's hard to appreciate from a motor coach, although the passengers do avoid the pickpockets.
Later, we watched an engaging human spectacle -- including mimes, buskers, shoppers and skateboarders -- from our sidewalk table outside Hotel Colon, across from the imposing cathedral.
Reluctantly, in late afternoon we made our way back to the pier. Our luggage had preceded us, so all we had to do was ride an escalator to the pier's upper level. Past the gangway, we found ourselves in the main reception area, where a handful of greeters wore costumes no doubt meant to convey the European and northern African history that would inform the days ahead.
The Genoa-based cruise company markets itself in the U.S. through First European Cruises, and tries to add Ameri-cans to its largely European clientele.
Americans who don't mind a near-total immersion in the ways of the Continent should be delighted.
"When you cruise with us, you're definitely not in Kansas anymore," says First European chief executive officer Makis Xenatos.
Veteran American cruise passengers will find that the French-built European Stars is pretty much like a lot of the new ships. Their layouts go something like this: open space with swimming pools in the middle, dining areas aft, a theater and a show lounge near the bow, public areas with boutiques and reception desk, an Internet cafe, health club and spa, video game room, rock-climbing wall, golf simulator, a business center and, of course, a casino.
Fortunately, European Stars is a bit more dignified and subdued than some ocean liners.
For example, light woods and pastel fabrics defy the general cruise ship trend toward garish atriums with massive chandeliers, bizarre statuary and flashy neon.
Travel agents might advise clients that it isn't a good idea to go directly from a spacious hotel room with big windows, such as our quarters in the Grand Mari-na, to a standard cruise-ship cabin. We took one look at the stateroom assigned to us and immediately arranged for an upgrade to a minisuite with a veranda.
We found pleasant blond-wood furniture and abstract prints on the walls. A maroon spread with gold circles covered the queen-sized bed. We had a little glass coffee table and a red-toned loveseat. A 20-inch TV sat atop the handsome minibar-cabinet. Our marble-topped desk could double as a dressing table because of its big mirror.
An upholstered side chair matched the couch. Closets and drawers were generous by cruise-ship standards, and so was the marble-trimmed bath, complete with tub.
And there was the veranda -- a little slice of teak decking with a couple of beige plastic chairs and a matching table just the right size for a couple of mimosas. Nothing fancy, but it would be opening up a world of scenery.
Excursion in France
The upgrade to a veranda-equipped stateroom meant we qualified to dine in the cozy Da Giacomo Restaurant on the Genoa Deck, rather than the big, 696-seat Napoleon Restaurant on the lower Marseilles Deck.
We could sit at a table for two just like a couple of grown-ups in a fine-dining establishment, rather than the usual cruise-ship practice of assigning strangers to the same table. (Those in lesser quarters may dine there, too, if they make a reservation and pay a $15 cover charge.)
Angelo, the maitre d', bustled around the 296-seat dining room with exuberance. The mood of Da Giacomo definitely was Italian, from the paintings of dignified 16th-century doges on the walls to the gilt-framed mirrors to the background music of Dean Martin singing That's Amore.
We asked Angelo why the dining room seemed so empty at this, the late seating.
"The busy season begins July 1," he replied in rapid-fire English. "We have about 1,200 passengers right now."
We knew the ship could hold 1,566 passengers in 272 inside (windowless) cabins, 511 outside staterooms and 132 minisuites with balconies.
Just 60 people listed English as their first language, and the majority spoke Italian. Crew members are a multilingual bunch and use English as their common tongue.
During our chat with Angelo, we brought up shore excursions. "Oh, please, do not miss Portofino," he urged. "The most beautiful place in the world! The people are so rich, property costs $25,000 for one square foot!"
For our first shore excursion, we boarded a motor coach heading for Aix-en-Provence, rather than take a bus tour that the ship's excursion brochure called "Flavours of Marseille."
We like Marseille, but a few hours hardly does it justice. At least in smaller and more manageable Aix we could, as the brochure suggested, "enjoy a leisurely stroll through the heart of the town along Cours Mirabeau."
Sadly, the sidewalks of Cours Mirabeau were undergoing a jackhammer facelift, defeating the purpose of the great Aix sidewalk cafes.
It was market day, and temporary booths were clustered along one end of shaded Cours Mirabeau. I sampled a farmer's foie gras and tried a bit of honey cake at a pastry counter. Juju bought three pairs of handmade sandals from a stall near the famous fountain that features a statue of King Rene Anjou holding a bunch of Muscat grapes. King Rene introduced the Muscat strain to Provence.
All too soon, it was time to make the trip back to the ship. Our coach waited in front of the tourism office. European Stars would be leaving France at 6 p.m.
A glimpse of Genoa
We missed Portofino.
A series of misunderstandings left Juju and me standing on the pier when we thought we should have been on the motor coach. We had gathered in the Politeama Genovese Theater, as instructed, but failed to see or hear whatever signal would have told us to board our bus.
Martin, the excursion coordinator, was unsympathetic. All the English-speakers and some of the French had signed up for a tour of Genoa, not Portofino, he informed us.
"If they don't come and book, we can't help it," Martin said.
We told him we'd be glad to take any motor coach assigned to the Portofino excursion, regardless of language. That, Martin said, would be impossible. We gave up. Making our own arrangements would be too complicated and take too much time. Portofino would have to wait for another time.
At least we were free to enjoy a leisurely breakfast. Juju and I decided to try out the Napoleon Restaurant, the big place where most of the passengers eat their more formal sit-down meals when they aren't jammed up in La Terrazza Cafeteria or the adjoining Da Teodoro Grill. Our intimate little Da Giacomo opens only for lunch and dinner.
The food in Da Giacomo was good -- fresh, imaginative and prepared with care. Elsewhere, dining on European Stars was a bit hit-or-miss. Usually, we took our breakfasts in the cafeteria, which doesn't set any cruise industry standards.
Later that day, we discovered a free shuttle bus about 100 yards down the dock and rode it into Genoa's downtown. Like most European city centers on Sunday, Genoa's closes pretty tight. Juju was deprived of shopping, and I missed the people-watching.
We walked through the lavishly decorated Piazza Ducale, Genoa's big cultural center, and explored several streets.
Massive, elaborate sculpture frosted one building after another. Everywhere we saw domes, parapets and churches striped with black and white marble. A gorgeous city and obviously too complex and overwhelming for a couple of cruise-bound day-trippers.
Island of dreams
The excursion to Capri would head out at 12:45 p.m., leaving us an hour for lunch in the open terrace of our dining room. We felt like royalty, enjoying exquisite salads under a white canvas canopy and looking out upon the crowds swarming over Naples' Stazione Marittima.
After lunch, Juju and I joined a throng of other European Stars Capri-goers on a ferry to the island of so many lyricists' dreams. Sure enough, the poets had nailed it. Capri is a little lump of pure bliss, a heavenly rockpile of villas, gardens, blue water and inspiring vistas that justify all our romantic notions about the Bay of Naples.
The city of Naples itself, like Portofino, would have to wait for another occasion.
Our pre-dinner sailing out of Naples was the most enchanting departure of all. With the setting sun turning our veranda rails bright gold, the ship sidled along the Amalfi Coast, horns blasting a greeting as we passed each town nestled on the cliffs and hillsides. Lights twinkled in the windows of charming houses as the European Stars made its way south.
That night, our congenial waiters, Cuban Vladimir Cam-bara and Hungarian Botand Negy, introduced us to another American couple, and we joined them for dinner. Mary Pat and Joe Abraham, from Minneapolis, were topping off an elaborate wedding with an equally elaborate honeymoon trip: four days in Barcelona, then the cruise, then four more days in Madrid.
The Abrahams had seen this part of the world before, so they could relax on board when they felt like it, rather than rush from place to place. Joe, 32, manages a marketing and planning team for a firm that prints product labels. Mary Pat sets up Web sites for television stations.
Juju and I were looking forward to their company at dinner for the rest of the cruise. But when we returned to our stateroom, we found an invitation under the door. It said the captain requests the pleasure of our company at his table the next night.
Dinner with the captain
The ship docked in Messina, a first look at Sicily for Juju and me, but we skipped the big city and spent our brief shore time in Taormina. The hilltop village has a well-preserved Greek theater dating from the third century B.C., great views of the coast and scores of tastefully fitted-out boutiques.
It was another place that begged for a day or two, at least. But the gangway went up at 3:30 p.m., and the ship left at 4 p.m., so Sicily remained just a pleasant glimpse. We would have to cover 289 nautical miles before reaching the northern coast of Africa the next morning.
A number of Italians had boarded in Genoa, and they were having the time of their lives.
Juju and I gaped at people grabbing heaps of pasta off the buffet tables, flip-flopping across the pool deck, chattering to envious friends on their cell phones, kissing their babies, sunbathing on the deck chairs and singing songs.
This was the night for meeting the captain and dressing in "gala" attire, which evidently means somewhat formal and, here and there, flamboyantly sequined. In the big theater, couples danced and mingled on stage during the captain's cocktail hour. Servers passed among us with trays of exquisite hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne -- the only time we could drink alcohol that week without having to sign for it.
We got another free round of drinks as well as superb rack of lamb and the wine to go with it.
Capt. Pietro Esposito was a gracious and informal host, as humorous as Angelo.
It wasn't quite clear why the captain (or one of his minions) invited us, although public relations seemed to be involved. Juju and I weren't the only ones at the table with media connections. We tried to stay incognito all week, but cruise publicists have a way of finding out such things.
Otherwise, we tried to stay as anonymous as possible A young man and his partner turned out to be filmmakers of some kind. The Danish couple on my left had their seats because of an essay contest the woman had won.
"You wrote I was the most handsome captain on the sea," Esposito teased. The essayist blushed.
I asked Esposito why he had leaned on the horn so often the previous evening, as we cruised along the Amalfi Coast.
"We live in Sorrento, so we were just saying hello," he answered. "And, besides, it's good marketing. There are a lot of hotels over there. People often come on board and tell me they were staying in Sorrento or Positano or Amalfi, saw the ship, and decided to book a cruise."
Exotic Tunis
Our Tunis adventure began somewhere amid the colorful markets -- souks -- inside the medina, or old native quarter. A busload of French- and English-speakers followed our guide, Fehta, through a labyrinth of vendors selling carpet, gold chains, exotic food, clothing, silk, copperware and chechias, the traditional pillbox-shaped male headgear.
Somewhere between the market rooftop and its great view of the beautiful Jemaaez Zitouna (Mosque of the Olive Tree) and a visit to one of the major rug dealers, Juju and I lost the group.
We searched for a while, then made our way back through an elegant, tree-lined section and found our motor coach. Along the way, we could see that Tunis is a modern city with well-preserved touches of a rich past, blocks of gleaming white buildings punctuated with elaborately tiled minarets.
Fehta was sweating under his baseball cap when he arrived with the other passengers. "Oh, you frightened me," he said. "I was so worried."
From then on, he kept a sharp eye on us passengers, as he led us through the Bardo Museum and its extensive collection of fine Roman mosaics. After that, it was on to Carthage with a pause for lunch at Phenix de Carthage, a pleasant resort.
The once-proud city that had dominated the seas and matched the splendor of Rome in ancient times is a small but fascinating spread of ruins in a chic, flower-bedecked seaside suburb.
Founded by Phoenicians in 814 B.C., Carthage eventually became the capital of Roman Africa. The columns, baths and other crumbling structures on the site are vestiges of the city as it was rebuilt by the Romans and ruled by Caesar Augustus.
Given a few more days, Juju and I felt we could have really soaked in the history and tracked down all the areas where wars, regional rivalries and intrigues took place.
But, no, we had to move on to another collection of markets in Sidi Bou Said -- a beautiful town with cobblestone streets, more white buildings and vivid blue doors and shutters.
I tried to absorb the culture, while my wife bargained with the merchants. Tunisia was the exotic high point of the cruise.
Sips of liqueur
Almost back to Barcelona, we spent our last shore leave walking the streets of Palma de Majorca. We were told that most of Spain had chosen this day to go on strike.
The charming alleys around such historic sites as the stupendous Gothic cathedral and the 14th-century Bellver Castle were occupied almost exclusively by cruise passengers.
On a previous trip to Majorca, a few years back, we had explored the northern regions of the island, finding them scenic and craggy, sprinkled with charming villages and exquisite beaches. No time for that now.
On the waterfront, so many cafes and stores were shuttered that we fled toward the Plaza Major in the center of town, where shops stayed open and street life picked up.
As the all-aboard deadline neared, we bought several bottles of liqueur near the marina. That night, we opened a bottle of the liqueur with Joe and Mary Pat. Our waiters, Vladimir and Botand, accepted a taste.
Our cruise, it turned out, served as a sort of European sampler. The cities we saw too briefly and the places we missed altogether probably will tug at us until we find our way back -- not necessarily on another cruise.
But maybe.
Robert Cross is a reporter for the Chicago Tribune.
When you go
Cruise costs:
* Fares for the European Stars western Mediterranean cruise vary by date. In 2002, the ship's cruise season began May 3, and the last cruise is scheduled to depart Nov. 29. Next year, the season starts April 11 and continues through the end of November.
* All prices for 2003 are cruise-only and per-person, double occupancy. They do not include port taxes, which are $90 for adults and $70 for children. The first two weeks of August command the highest fares. In early April and again in mid-October through late November, fares are lower.
* According to First European Cruises, the U.S. marketing arm for Festival Cruises, fares for inside cabins in 2003 will range from $960 to $1,330; outside cabins from $1,220 to $1,690; and suites with balconies from $1,550 to $2,150. Those booking at least 90 days ahead receive a 15 percent discount.
* Fares for the remainder of this European Stars season will range from $910 to $1,530 for an inside cabin; $1,390 to $1,900 for an outside cabin; and $2,040 to $2,290 for a suite with balcony.
* For our June cruise, an upgrade from a midrange outside cabin to a minisuite cost $600.
Excursion costs: Shore excursion prices generally run between $40 and $80. Festival Cruises quotes those charges in euros, so they may vary, depending on the exchange rate. The company also operates European Vision (twin sister of European Stars) and three smaller ships -- Azur, Mistral and Flamenco. All call on European ports at various times.
For more information about European Stars, consult a travel agent, or write First European Cruises, 95 Madison Ave., New York, N.Y. 10016. Or go online: www.first-european.com.