THE WATERS of the Mediterranean hold no more horrors for us. Wandering Odyesseus long ago sailed from his ”wine-dark sea” into the mists where history and legend collide, taking with him six-headed Scylla and ship-swallowing Charybdis, the insidious Sirens, the Laistrygonian cannibals and Circe the sorceress. Who`s afraid of big, bad Polyphemus?
Alas, when the horrors faded, so did some of the fun. Whose imaginations can today be seduced by names that no longer sound strange: Naples, say, or Capri or even nice Nice?
Fortunately, two contemporary goddesses have been summoned by the Norwegians to put the provocative back into Mediterranean sailing: Sea Goddesses I and II, both styled for sea-borne sybarites. In settings of restrained, even easygoing elegance, the two smart sister ships transport their pampered passengers to several ”new” ports of call: Collioure in France, Bonifacio in Corsica, Katakolon in Greece, St. Feliu de Guixols in Spain.
Happily, some favorites still are on the itineraries: Venice, Santorini, Taormina and Monte Carlo among them.
THE NIGHT BEFORE our departure from Civitavecchia, I sat in the cozy Roman restaurant called Ostaria Marcello and studied my upcoming parade of ports: Olbia in Sardinia; Bonifacio, Corsica; Portoferraio, Elba; Portofino and Santa Margherita, Italy; Marseille and St. Tropez (ugh), France; and Monte Carlo in minuscule Monaco. It was a menu of anticipations.
A good ship, too, becomes a destination. Clothes can be secreted in the closet, the unpleasantness of unpacking and repacking temporarily forgotten;
one prepares to be cosseted and cared for by cabin stewards, dining salon staff, deck crew and bemused barmen. A good cruise combines all the comforts of home with the excitements of abroad.
The moment I stepped aboard Sea Goddess I in Civitavecchia (port for Rome), I knew I was aboard a good ship (to put it modestly). It is small, with the shallow draft that permits floating into noncommercial harbors. It shelters 116 passengers in 58 outside suite-style cabins, each outfitted with full bathroom (including tubs!), color TV and a sophisticated stereo system I never mastered. I just found BBC and left it at that.
EVERYWHERE, DECOR (quiet earth tones and pastels) and materials (teak, solid oak, wool carpets, crisp linen, crystal) brought to mind one`s own yacht. (You don`t have one? Shhhhh.) When you`ve exhausted all the usual amenities (pool, sun deck, skeet shooting, etc.), you can slip into the on-deck Jacuzzi after dinner and enjoy a warm, watery massage as the stars of the Mediterranean slip slowly across the sky. (Deep purple night, soft Mediterranean air, and lines of Coleridge swim into mind: ”As idle as a painted ship/Upon a painted ocean.”)
By night, one sails and sleeps. By day, he steps ashore.
Olbia, Sardinia. The largest island in the Mediterranean after Sicily, Sardinia is rugged, mountainous, in some mysterious manner, savage. In spring, its scent is caught far out at sea: an all-spice symphony of arbutus, asphodel, eucalyptus, cactus, myrtle, wild roses and indiscernible varieties of brushwood.
Sardinia is ancient: The Phoenecians` galleys sailed there, followed by Carthaginians and Romans and other invading enthusiasts. The antique fortress- houses known as nuraghi date from times beyond memory. On a brief call, one does not expect to comprehend it. Never mind; you`ll be back. Meanwhile, the day`s diversion is a dally at the Aga Khan`s Costa Smeralda (Emerald Coast), prominently featuring the remarkable architectural hotel-village of Porto Cervo, perhaps a swim, and lunch (if one is wise) at Vermentino di Sardegna.
Bonifacio, Corsica. The 13th-Century Old Town named for defender Boniface II is an evocative collection of narrow-shouldered old houses strung along skinny, curving streets, and sitting high above the sea atop an extraordinary upthrust of limestone. Inviting little restaurants and sidewalk cafes abound, some overlooking the blue sea that pounds upon the rocks far below.
On my first visit, years ago, the little harbor bobbed with a few aging fishing boats; on summer afternoons today it bustles with sailboats from the ports of Europe, while sun-seeking Scandinavians (almost nude and smelling of suntan oil) stroll unself-consciously along the quays and scurrying waiters serve up ponderous platters of garlicky seafood.
Corsica has been French since 1768 and the following year Napoleon Bonaparte was born to Italian parents in the capital, Ajaccio.
Portoferraio, Elba. Crouched within its amphitheater of hills, the capital is a pleasant, laid-back Italian port whose name recalls the iron mines and smelting works employed by the Etruscans as long ago as the 6th Century B.C. Like Corsica, Sardinia, the Balearic Islands and some rocks of the French Riviera, Elba is an island outcrop of the long-vanished continent of Tyrennia.
Sidewalk cafes sit comfortably along the leafy main square, and at Hotel Hermitage eight kilometers from town, children chatter and splash in the beach-lined sea. Elba clearly demands to be visited again, at greater leisure. Only one ghost of major importance still stalks Elba: that of Napoleon Bonaparte, who after his abdication in 1814 received the island and its neighbor, Pianosa, as a principality and held relatively small court here until Feb. 26, 1815, when he embarked to invade and reconquer Paris and France.
Steep-stepped streets lead uptown to the Villa dei Mulini, the unimposing mansion that Napoleon occupied during part of his exile. Undergoing much-needed restoration at the time of my visit, it houses a library and a few personal mementos of the great man. Nearby, the Misericordia Church and adjoining Napoleonic Antiques Museum preserve some fairly unremarkable artworks as well as a bronze death mask from St. Helena, a wooden copy of one of the funeral urns from Les Invalides in Paris, the first bronze copy of Napoleon`s hand, etc.
Students of Napoleon will hasten five kilometers from town to visit the beautifully situated summer villa at San Martino, where one may hear the quarrels between the failed emperor, his mothers and sisters, and perhaps the titters of various mistresses.
Portofino-Santa Margherita, Italy. This is the postcard peninsula of golden cliffs buried under tangled woods rising from the sea, of sparkling streams and olive trees, of earth-toned mansions and opulent hotels, of poor artists and aristocracy and the complacent rich of several continents.
Sea Goddess I anchored offshore in the glorious gulf, the better to lower its watersports platform for divers and swimmers, while sightseers were transported to both towns by ship`s tenders. Portofino is the more arty but less pretentious of the two. (Visit the chapel of San Giorgio and climb the hill to the properly named old Hotel Splendido, where you may wish to stay when next you stop by.)
In Santa Margherita, the Church of San Lorenzo displays a fine triptych attributed to ”a master of Bruges.” The classic hostelry, the Imperial Palace, still reigns serenely over all.
Marseille, France. In 1985, Sea Goddesses will not call at this unlovely seaport, so I shall not discuss it here except to recommend a stay at Le Petit Nice Passedat (14 rooms, excellent kitchen, smashing seaside setting) should you be in the vicinity, as well as a side trip to the coastal village of Cassis, where Dufy, Matisse and Vlaminck found lovely light and you may find, in season, delicious sea urchins.
St. Tropez, France. I dislike this trendy, tourist-ridden town so much I wouldn`t even set foot in it. If you do, confine yourself to explorations of the curiously Near-Eastern ambiance of the Byblos Hotel (excellent food), the charming, 36-room Residence de la Pinede, or bouillabaisse as served at Les Mouscardins.
Monte Carlo, Monaco. A splendid final call following a splendid cruise:
From the Old World grandeur of the Hotel Hermitage, I looked down upon the pristine whiteness of my sea-going hostelry. In the night, the Goddess would sail again and somebody unknown would be sleeping in my bed. There was nothing to do but soothe my sorrows with champagne.
NOTES ON THE SEA GODDESS SEASON
SEA GODDESSES I and II are of Norwegian registry sailing with Norwegian officers, European and American staff and crew. Cruise rates are expensive and all-inclusive. They include service charges, all meals, all alcoholic beverages provided and consumed in staterooms as well as in ship`s bars and dining room, basic transportation ship-to-shore, etc. A concierge will make virtually any shore arrangements upon request, such as restaurant or car rental reservations, special excursions, etc.
Daytime dress is sporty-smart, and evening wear frequently is formal. The service is outstanding, a neat joining of professional expertise and youthful enthusiasm, efficient without being brusque, friendly without becoming intrusive.
Most cruises are seven nights, with itineraries so varied that two or more may be booked in succession with almost no repetition of ports. Some Egypt/Israel and trans-Atlantic sailings are longer. Rates are $4,000 for week-long cruises, per person, double occupancy, or about $572 a day. Single- occupancy rates are $858.
Both Sea Goddesses will sail nine different itineraries in the Mediterranean from May 4 through Oct. 12, 1985, out of Malaga, Spain; Monte Carlo, Rome, Athens and Venice. On Oct. 19, Sea Goddess II will make sailings to Egypt and Israel, followed by Greece. Two different trans-Atlantic crossings are slated for the ships in autumn, following which Sea Goddess II will make two South American sailings and Sea Goddess I will return to her winter runs in the Caribbean from Nov. 2, 1985, to April 12, 1986.
The Mediterranean season space for 1985 already is 70 percent sold out. Hurry to your travel agent.
