Heyo!
Last week I finished up a trip through the Mediterranean, with stops in Istanbul, Rhodes, Crete, and Athens. It was fun, but I must acknowledge, rather reluctantly, that I was on a cruise ship.
One of the perks of my job is that occasionally Viking cruise lines sends me on an all-expenses paid trip. I’m not saying this to brag, but to explain why I’m on board this Boomer leviathan in the first place. I don’t actually have the extra $10,000 or whatever it costs to sail through the ocean on a floating country club. My preferred way to see another country is not with a group of retired dentists. If I did have the scratch, I’d just book my own way through Greece.
But don’t get me wrong, I am grateful!
This unusual opportunity allows me to spend time in foreign cities that I otherwise wouldn’t be able to visit. Back in 2019, I went to Portugal on a river cruise, and it was a magical experience. I got put up in a hotel in Lisbon, stayed out until 2AM every night in Porto, and sailed through the Douro river stopping only to inspect olive trees and Iberian pig farms. The staff on the ship were also from Portugal, so we would go out at night and drink and eat piri piri and watch fucked up videos on our phones as a group. Culture! One night I ate something called “blood chicken” with the captain—a grey stew made with rice, chicken thighs and drums, vinegar, blood, and served with strong, headache-inducing Port wine. It ruled.
This ocean cruise was much different. We set sail at 5pm most nights, so, aside from Istanbul and Athens, I spent my evenings aboard, watching in horror as the kitchen staff absolutely butchered carving a mushy, crustless, top sirloin. There are worse fates, but when I was leaving Rhodes (the most beautiful place I’ve ever been) to get back onboard a cruise liner, I couldn’t help but be a little salty about it.
I don’t know exactly why Viking lets me do this all expenses paid, but they do. I repeat: I am not doing anything for the company. I guess they just have press passes available for journalists, influencers, and writers. I honestly think if I had to write one positive word about the company I wouldn’t be here at all. I would feel too grimy.
I spent a lot of my time on the ship surrounded by old people. These retirees aren’t just from America, but also Japan, the UK, etc. I was a fly on the wall—being a bit voyeuristic and creepy but also this is my job—watching and listening to how these folks are spending their twilight years.
The entire cruise ship model would completely fall apart if people weren’t able to retire, which makes me think this enterprise is going to be ancient in the very near future.
Anyway, old people are funny. Here are some the highlights of my eavesdropping.
Notes from Eavesdropping on Old People
“You’re a rockstar!” - somebody complimenting their Indonesian waiter
“It says bananas can help with swelling,” then typing and speaking at the same time, “Why do older women’s ankles swell?” - a woman doing research on Web MD.
“Sorry, there was a lot of traffic.” - a guy making a little cruise ship joke about why he was late for dinner.
“Gargh! Arghhh!” - a man who dropped his bread on the ground
“Indianapolis: Race cars. Basketball. Football.” - a man who just met another man from Indianapolis.
“Whereabouts are you from?” - a man trying to make friends.
“We’re hoping for better things this year.” - a man talking about the Washington Commanders with another old man he just met.
“My youngest son is about to move out in October he tells me. We’ll see.” - a mother hoping her son will move out soon.
“Do you want another piece of eggplant? I don’t want it. I’m not going to eat it.” - a woman, married for I’m guessing at least 50 years, talking her to husband.
“They took my wine glass!” - a woman incredulous over the fact that a waiter took her wine glass.
“You look spiffy.” - a dapper, charming, older man with a set of pearly white teeth, complimenting his wife before dinner.”
Cruise ship food is, wait for it……bad!
Nothing has me more convinced that the human race is plummeting towards a very well deserved annihilation than dining on a cruise ship. It’s not the luxury that has me in a fit, but the appearance of luxury. The wine is cheap. The decor is tacky. The food is abominous. I ate chewy, slithery, grey legs of lamb, tasteless smoked salmon, and mealy sushi.
I watched an employee, god bless him, absolutely butcher the carving of a top sirloin, and I watched hundreds of cruise ship guests happily slop it up. It made me sad. If this is how we’re using our resources to travel, I don’t know, maybe everyone should just stay home.
Somehow, the best thing I had on board the entire week was a chicken consommé, which was crystal clear like the Mediterranean itself. I don’t know what short-cut was taken to avoid making a proper consommé raft, but I don’t much care. Chicken broth felt simple and elegant enough to soothe my aching, sea-sick heart.
I did have an unbelievable döner in Istanbul, though
The döner kebab I had in Istanbul, at Sahin Usta in the Grand Bazar, was truly exceptional. It felt like the quintessence of shaved meat sandwiches. Sliced beef from a vertical spit was juicy and dark—a strong cook produced a charred, smoky meat with laced edges almost like a smashburger. The pita—fluffy, but grilled crispy with waffle-iron like markings, was simply stuffed with meat, tomato, and onion.
Like a how a good burger is all about beef, so is a good döner. This was all about the tender, crispy meat. Juices flowed from the beef into my mouth, down the pita bread, and onto a napkin. I ordered a glass of yogurt drink to go with with it, which was ice cold, tangy, and a perfect accompaniment to the döner.
Eylül Savaş, a native of Istanbul, recommended the joint. Nicole Enayati of Mythical Kitchen jumped in my DMs to say, “YES. The best!” Which is how I know I went to the right spot.
Sahin Usta is a small hole-in-the-wall joint, and I found it funny how many employees—all men wearing red aprons—fit inside the space. A clown car of Turkish men hovered around the döner trompo, some assembling sandwiches, some pouring milk, some eating the sandwich themselves.
Anyway, it was so good I was kicking myself for not ordering another for the back-to-back döner experience.
Marinated Anchovies in Rhodes, Greece
I was in Rhodes for all over 12 hours and I had the one of the best afternoons of my life. I happened upon a pristine, lively beach full of young families and hot single people. Everybody drank. Greek music played from speakers, but then it suddenly turned to Rich Girl by Hall & Oates. Just a hell of a day.
Swimming in the Mediterranean ocean was one of the more notable experiences in my life. Normally when I get to a beach, or really anywhere, I think, “OK, it’s almost time to go.” Here, you couldn’t drag me out of the ocean. It was warm, crystal clear, and largely uninhabited. The water was so stark that at one point I actually got spooked by my own shadow.
I stopped at an idyllic restaurant on the coast, and ordered some marinated anchovies, octopus chunks in vinegar, fried anchovies with lemon, a block of feta cheese, and a bottle of ouzo. Greeks don’t order cheese and fish together, but fuck it, I’m not not ordering feta at a restaurant in Greece.
I didn’t expect to get so emotional in Rhodes, but my ancestors are from an island close to there called Chalkis. Everywhere in Rhodes I saw people that looked like my Great Uncle Mike—unbelievably tan, charismatic older men with their chests out and a flat mat of thinning grey hair. I even saw one guy on a motorbike wearing the same goofy VFW hat my Uncle used to wear. At one point, I swear I saw someone that looked like my Grandma, but she was in the passenger seat of a speeding car. Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
I know, I know: It’s easy to get all sentimental about a place when you’re only there for 12 hours. Maybe that’ll wear off.
But I swear, for half of a day, it felt like I was home.
Heyo! That’s it! I’m swamped with deadlines right now, but I hope you enjoyed reading!
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