Social scientists attempt to explain humankind’s fascination with water, from the ocean’s rolling waves, the peaceful lakeside or the small waterfall in a tumbling stream. We watch in fascination. We dream, we meditate, we pray, and sometimes, merely rest in peace with a companion.

Biological scientists believe we came from water, and within our natures we have the eternal desire to return. The earth was probably covered with a layer of water from which the continents emerged. Chains of carbon molecules existed within the water, and eventually minute creatures emerged. Over millions, possibly billions of years, evolutional changes occurred, but only in the nineteenth century did paleontologists distinguish the remains of upright man, dating them backwards in time tens of thousands of years.

Each of us, of course, bathed in amniotic fluid for nine months before a violent entry into the world. We return to our beginnings. People have built homes and condominiums on the ocean shores, subject to destruction by storms, and yet they continue to build. The tourism industry captures this intense love of water and caters to the sun and beach seekers. We take ourselves to vacation areas, whether it be sea, lake or mountain stream.

A new industry, cruising, has exploded in recent years, capitalizing on the discretionary income and leisure time of retirees and those nearing that age. Another segment of that industry caters to the interest of young affluent people as candidates for their services. Travel agents throughout the world offer nine thousand itineraries in over two hundred fifty cruise ships sailing in international waters and on cruises along the world’s major scenic rivers. In the United States they offer sailings along the Mississippi and on northern rivers and lakes to view the fall leaves. In Europe, the Rhine and the Danube attract sailors of all occupations, ages and nationalities.

I had a recent personal experience in cruising with friends, flying to England, boarding a massive liner, The Splendour of the Seas, a ninety-five-thousand-tons-ship. This luxury liner, repositioning from Mediterranean summer cruises to Caribbean winter tours, offered bargain rates. In addition, it offered the possibility of tours through the beautiful leaf-changing areas of New England. Since the European cities included only one great attraction, Paris, it was not expected to be a full-passenger complement. However, the response surprised the company, and they offered no additional special gifts to passengers, as implied in the early advertising. This company now has under construction a new liner with a gross tonnage of one-hundred-thirty-two-thousand-tons that will carry three thousand passengers.

We boarded at Harwich, sailed overnight to LeHavre where we had the option to visit Paris or Normandy. I wished we had two days there since these were the most interesting tour destinations. I opted for the tour of the Normandy Beaches. In 1945 I had known no one in the D-Day offensive, but over the years I had met men who had participated.

When we docked, it was a beautiful, sunny day. We traveled by bus across the French countryside, through several villages, first to the beaches where the British and Canadians had landed. We could see remnants of the artificial pontoon bridges and the wide flat beaches where so many drowned or died by gunfire. We reboarded for the ten-minute drive to the Omaha and Utah beaches and cliffs where the Americans landed. On the hills, one could still see the results of shellfire and a few German concrete bunkers. We visited these bunkers, then walked along the cliffs where the troops had rappelled, and where many had died, scaling these cliffs. Many people, mostly older men, walked down to the beaches, sauntering back and forth. Perhaps some of them had been there those first weeks of the maneuvers.

We toured the cemeteries and the memorials. We watched an impressive film showing the magnitude and the horror of the operation. It was a deeply emotional experience, and it was difficult for me to realize that so many of my contemporaries had fought and died here.

We crossed the English Channel again by night and landed in Plymouth, going by tender and bus into the center of the town. My companions and I had not joined the tours, and we merely wandered around the town, not really seeing it. Fortunately , we discovered the Plymouth tour bus, an excellent service. We saw the Mayflower steps from which the Pilgrims had left for America and the battle fields overlooking the harbor, where soldiers witnessed the destruction of the Spanish Armada. We had lunch in an outdoor area overlooking the harbor. Historical towns have learned the art of pleasing tourists.

We sailed from Plymouth along the west coast of Europe to Vigo, in northern Spain, the area bordering the Atlantic ocean. Here we could board the tour bus at the pier. I took the trip to Santiage de Compostela, a cathedral city, famous as a pilgrimage site, with relics of the Apostle James. This is a jubilee year, in which the feast of St. James, July 25, occurs on a Sunday. For that reason, the Pilgrimage Gate opened, and as part of the special ceremony a massive incense censor swung in a huge arc, possibly near one hundred feet, over the congregates. Thousands of pilgrims swarmed through the Cathedral and courtyards. Stories of the great Cathedrals mention this edifice, though it is in a remote area, seventy miles from the port of Vigo, a major trip in medieval times.

Our Spanish guide emphasized the wealth that had come to Spain when explorers returned from the new world. Her speech contrasted with the words of Mexican and Caribbean guides in the Americas who bemoaned the plundering of their lands by the Spanish

The next port, Lisbon, also could be visited by bus. Near the ship terminal, spanning the Tagus River, we saw the magnificent Twenty-Fifth April Bridge, the third longest suspension bridge in the world. It is light and delicate-looking, held by self-supporting cables, an unusual design. The bridge soared high above us, on the left toward the ocean. I hoped we would cross it, but unfortunately, the bus turned to the right toward the city, as the bridge receded in the back-ground.

The bus traveled through beautiful tree-lined streets. Memorials to the early explorers abound in the city. Portuguese explorers secured parts of Africa for the mother country in the fifteenth century. The Maritime Museum touts their exploits and those of the sailors who went to

America--Vasco de Gama, Magellan, and others. We knew that a World’s Fair had taken place in Lisbon in 1997, but the guides did not mention this event.

We boarded the ship, and two days of traveling brought us to Ponto Delgado, in the Azores, a pretty port which does not seem to be greatly affected by tourism. It is remote, and possibly this ship stopped here simply as a convenient stop between Europe and America, or it might be a scheme to promote touring to those lovely islands.

After three days spent crossing the Atlantic Ocean, we arrived in Halifax. Nova Scotia, an old seaport area, and the entry point for many Irish into Canada. It is also the site of burial of many victims of the Titanic disaster. Most of the tours were booked, so I walked around, visited the old English Citadel and the harbor shops, converted from waterfront warehouses. I also visited St. Paul’s, the first Anglican Church in Canada.

The next paort, Bar Harbor, was closed because of rough waves in the harbor, so we moved on to Portland, Maine, an old fishing town beset by the demise of the fishing industry. The town leaders have recognized the commercial possibilities of tourism with changes resulting in the restoration of many fine old brick waterfront buildings. This town featured many fine shops, though they seemed to concentrate on restaurants and stores featuring luxury cooking and kitchen supplies.

Our next stop was the homeport, Boston, the end of a pleasant journey, but we had an introduction to the less pleasant side of ocean travel. We had perfect weather for our trip, but a hurricane, Floyd, was building up in the Atlantic. Because of that, we were diverted to Portland, as were other ships in the next few days. From Boston, some of us had to rearrange airline flights to Maryland. I had planned to go by train, but the floods closed the tracks, and the train did not run for several days, so I joined the air travelers.

People travel by cruiser for relaxation, to see new sights, and food--food--food! Three gourmet meals daily, plus a midnight snack, in effect a fourth meal, give a great opportunity for gluttony. The evening entertainments offered classical music plus popular music and dancing. The ship also provided opportunities for fitness of the body and mind. A quarter mile walking track circled the top deck. A fitness club tempted the exercise machine enthusiasts, and daily aerobics classes suited a small number of people. The library had beautiful glass enclosed shelves; a few of the books had publications dates as late as 1998. Otherwise, it was an exercise in nostalgia.

I probably won’t cruise much again. But I had a real revelation on the experience of cruising. There is an immense counter-culture of people who spend most of their time cruising the seven seas for pleasure, going from one luxury liner to another, one continent to another. They follow the sun; they don’t change the choice of weather: it’s always summer. A few passengers owned condominium cabins on the ship, so they always had their own spaces. Some sported pins awarded for the number of cruises. I had dinner one night with a woman who was enjoying her thirty-fifth cruise and showed me her award pin. She said one of her companions had sailed ninety times on various ships. I did not meet him. Many of the passengers tended toward obesity, not surprising considering the enormous amounts of food available and the lack of enthusiasm for exercise.

After a taste of cruising, I can understand why there are many people who, if they have the time and the money, will indulge in this basic urge to go "down to the sea" with pleasure and no fear. However, it’s not for me. I loved to look at the rolling waves and magnificent setting sun. There were tender trips into small harbors; otherwise, we landed at dreary warehouse docks. As a complete lifestyle, it would be, to me, boring to the final embarkation.