Boat Noises
Notes from the Viking Aegir
Happy holidays, or Frohe Weihnachten! I just completed a week-long cruise along the Danube river with my mom and grandma. Below are notes of varying quality.
There are no links at the bottom because, in lieu of scanning the news, I’ve been scanning all pedestrian surfaces for elevation changes of more than 3 cm. The goal is to prevent my grandma from falling and breaking her hip. It is a full-time effort. A second effort is not catching the phlegmy cough that one in five people in Europe—including my travel companions!—seem to have. A fool’s errand. See you in 2026.
DAY 1. Budapest, Hungary
A SCALDING TAKE
Budapest is prettier than Paris. Who knew.
HONEYMOONERS
At dinner I meet Caroline and Michael, a couple from Boston and among the youngest passengers on the ship. Their wedding was a week ago at The Harvard Club, Caroline tells me with the energy of Ellie Kemper’s character in Bridesmaids: “This is my HUSBAND.”
Later, I find their wedding website in six seconds. (The Knot’s SEO is incredible.) Caroline and Michael met on Hinge. They enjoy dressing up in colonial costumes, discussing Star Wars prequels, and posing among foliage.
Fancy an excerpt? “Early in the relationship, Michael and Caroline had discussed the 2 year rule. Two years minimum before a ring, but anything longer than three years may indicate commitment issues. Caroline knew he was the one by the second date, so for nearly two years, she was quite antsy.”
DAY 2. Budapest, Hungary
FALSE CONFIDENCE
Dinner the first night is excellent, so I order an “open-faced cheese sandwich” for lunch with confidence. It disappoints. I joke that the chef may be different, which is funny because we’re on a contained vessel. Less than 24 hours in and I have aged thirty years.
SHOWBIZ
My family and I become chummy with three servers: Aco from North Macedonia, Petar from Bulgaria, and Matthew from Poland. All three are younger than 45, which makes them teenagers on board. At 33, I am a child. There is a 20-year-old; he is a toddler.
The waiters work long, hard hours and I feel gross about doing fuck all as they barrel through 14-hour shifts. I wonder what they think of serving ballooning Americans, Canadians, and British three-course meals—including dessert with lunch—three times a day. (Sometimes there is tea time, which verges on elder abuse.) I suspect it is, simply, showbiz.
BOAT NOISES
We sit with Ana and Karen, high school friends now with greying hair and grandchildren. Ana builds furniture—live edge tables, mostly. Karen has diabetes. Ana wears long-sleeved shirts with simple sentences like, “I love dogs.” Karen knits.
Ana mentions she didn’t sleep well our first night because of strange thuds. I tell her I heard what sounds like muffled boiling water through the night.
“Boat noises,” she says.
SAILING BEGINS
Sailing begins during dinner. We pass the parliament building. I recognize it as the most beautiful view I’ve ever enjoyed over a meal. You cannot feel the ship move at all—meaning your brain receives conflicting visual and physical cues. I question whether the disorienting sensation is dizziness. It is not. I continue eating my potato pancake.
CRAZY LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE
The Christmas party begins at 9:45 p.m. I am handed eggnog. I take it to be festive.
George, the cruise director from Bulgaria, wears black skinny jeans and sings songs from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. His voice is good. A man on a piano (and sometimes electric guitar) plays behind him.
During Y.M.C.A., a woman stands from her walker and flails her arms in the air. My mom and I exchange a glance.
During Sweet Caroline—the second most widely sung song in the world after Happy Birthday, we’re told—my grandma can’t help but smile. The song’s popularity peaked in the last few years her husband was alive. I wonder what memories the song surfaces, but don’t ask.
Next, Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen. She grips one arm of her chair with both hands—her torso twisting to face George. I imagine her in her twenties, fangirling.
DAY 3. Bratislava, Slovakia
THE GABČÍKOVO LOCK
We pass through the second-largest lock on the Danube. I didn’t know what a lock was either. Now, I can explain it like you’re five. It’s like a giant water elevator: depending on the river level, water is pumped in or drained out to raise or lower the vessel.
We rise 75 meters to reach the new water level. “Simple physics,” George calls it. But also, “an engineering marvel.”
COLD WEATHER
Bratislava is cold. My fingers ache through my leather gloves. I consider the Titanic and what I would do if I entered the ocean at this temperature. (Die, quickly.)
My grandma doesn’t understand why it makes her eyes water. She announces her leaking orifices often. The weather app says “feels like 29.”
PAUL
Our city tour guide’s name is Pavol, or Paul in English. He’s funny, thank God, and looks like a Slavic Chris Pratt. At home, he and his wife teach their two-year-old daughter Spanish; English is compulsory in school and Slovak will come naturally. He cautions us while crossing a street, then says a “20% loss is acceptable.” I laugh through frozen cheeks. The joke is probably a tour guide favorite, but said to the elderly it is especially good.
DAY 4. Vienna, Austria
CHATGPT EUROPE
You know those videos where someone prompts AI for “more” until the generated image is a grotesque exaggeration? Vienna looks like the result after a third or fourth attempt.
“Show me a European city.”
“More European. More ornate architecture! More statues!”
“EVEN MORE EUROPEAN!!!”
etc.
TENDER INCONVENIENCE
On the tour bus I see a middle-aged woman turn to another—maybe sisters or cousins.
“Just tell me what do you need me to do,” she demands.
“Make sure his shoelaces…” The rest is inaudible.
The first woman turns to the old man beside her. I unplug from the conversation. I know the situation exactly. Caring for the elderly is a tender inconvenience.
INSANE CHRISTMAS MARKET
DAY 5. Krems, Austria
*ZING!*
My mom wins second place in the gingerbread cookie decorating contest during tea time. Her competitors lack imagination: dots for eyes, three buttons down the abdomen. Hers wears a bikini and a puka shell necklace—natürlich!
My grandma turns to me: “Chaos… like her personality.”
GRANDMA’S CRUSH
The 20-year-old toddler helps my grandma down the stairs. She is so touched she gives him her phone number, in case he’d like to get lunch one day. He lives in Alabama. His name is Sven.
POSSE
My mom, grandma, Ana, Karen, and I have formed a kind of COVID bubble. What is a cruise without cruise friends? I will never forget the friend I made aboard an ocean cruise to Mexico when I was a child. Her name was Emily. She had one arm.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
A gentleman dressed so nicely I momentarily mistake him for the captain approaches me as I write this newsletter.
“You are so impressive. You’ve been at this for hours! Are you working?”
“Yeah, sorta.”
“So impressive.”
DAY 6. Linz, Austria
SOLO DOLO
I raw dog this day by going out into the city alone, with no headphones. I feel a little sad because the sky is white and I am far from home. I buy Swarovski earrings—an Austrian brand I could have bought at any mall in America. I am vulnerable.
DAY 7. Passau, Germany
WOOF
“You sound lost!” an American woman says to Walter, our tour guide with an Irish accent.
“You sound lost too. Where’s your German?” he quips back.
Alles ist wieder gut.
All is good in the world. :)
PU DER BÄR
Walter reminds me of Winnie the Pooh with his calm, raspy voice and words that trail into gentle exasperation, as if being round were an effort. He wears a yellow rain jacket and walks side to side, unhurried. I enjoy the congruency immensely.
“SUSTAINED EFFORT”
The gentleman who admires my ability to sit at a laptop a few days ago approaches me again:
“I don’t mean to interrupt. I just got to say.. I am so impressed by your focus, your Sustained Effort.”
I say thank you seven times. I am flattered, but confused. This is all anyone does.
Thanks for sharing. I feel like if I was on the boat with you guys. Happy Holidays dear. Hope to see you soon in Paris. Love to your OM and grandma. Xoxo from Paris