TRAVEL PORTS OF CALL

IT SHOULD come as no surprise, considering that the ancient Greeks were great perpetrators of mythology, that the modern-day phrase “Greek cruise” is one of the great mythologies of 20th-century travel-dom. For me, at least, the concept of the “Greek cruise” has always been every bit as other-worldly as The Iliad. “Greek cruise”: It conjurs images of Onassian splendors, of the highest heights of hedonism, of lithe, bronzed bodies glistening on the white decks of a gleaming ship floating luxuriantly from remote island to remote island, from sparkling crescent beach to sparkling crescent beach, from dreamy day to dreamy day.

I was, of course, wrong. My recent “Greek cruise” was a series of exploded myths-and each was an unexpected, and usually pleasant, discovery. I no longer believe my old mythology of the “Greek cruise” any more than I believe Hermes had wings on his feet. This odyssey was rife with earthly realities.

The first myth. Cruising by ship, thanks to a certain Saturday night television series, is perceived by the uninitiated to consist of endless eating, dancing, tanning, and moon-gazing – all on board. And 95 per cent of the North American traveling public has never taken a cruise. The fact of the matter is that the cruise industry has begun to redirect itself as a travel form; while life-on-board remains elemental to the “cruise experience,” as the industry dubs it, the notion of destinations and itineraries, life-off-board, has taken on increased importance. Cruises are no longer confined to a lot of” floating between exotic beaches. The new Mediterranean itinerary of the Stella Solaris, the Greek-registered flagship of the Sun Lines fleet, is a perfect case in point. What is memorable about this cruise is not so much the ship (albeit a fine one), but the stops it makes, including, in one week, seven ports of call on three continents.

The second myth. This “Greek cruise” is not all Greek. While the Stella Solaris does sail, on a Monday evening, out of Piraeus, the port of Athens, it immediately sails south, out of Greek waters, destined for Africa. Tuesday is spent at sea, and passengers would be well-advised to enjoy a leisurely day on board, as the remainder of the cruise is anything but leisurely. This cruise is, in effect, an intensive tour of the eastern Mediterranean.

The third myth. If a tranquil vacation of sun and sand is what you’re after, forget it – you’ll have to work hard to squeeze in a few hours on the beach. On the other hand, if you’re looking for a comprehensive tour of the eastern Mediterranean, you won’t get that either. Instead, each stop represents a brief glimpse, a tease, really, before sailing on. But on that basis it works beautifully; this cruise maximizes the notion of the “floating hotel,” the hassle-free, ticketless, luggageless passage from place to place. There is something exhilarating about waking up each morning and looking out your porthole at a new landscape, a new country, a new continent awaiting your tourist’s assault.

Cairo. The first glimpse out the porthole on Wednesday morning is of Port Said, Egypt. Upon disembarking to board buses bound for Cairo, you find yourself engulfed by Arab “traders” who seem to know only two English words: “one dollar.” Everything thrust under your nose, from stone pendants to stuffed camels, appears to cost “one dollar.” If you hesitate, you’re doomed; just head for the bus.

The bus ride to Cairo (or bus race, really-the drivers must have wagers on who can get there first; our man Hashim won the pool) is some two hours, past the Suez Canal, through the strange salt fiats of the Nile Delta, and over desert land marked only by ragged Egyptian army outposts. The only “colorful” sights en route are the dashboards of the Egyptian cars, all bedecked with furry fabrics, silly trinkets, and plastic flowers. Upon entering Cairo, you’re greeted by a sight more astonishing in its way than the pyramids themselves: Cairo traffic. Cairo is a city of 10 million people, and it seems they all want to drive to the same place at the same time.

The first tour stop is the National Ar-cheological Museum, a shadowy, crumbling edifice befitting its ancient contents. Here you get your first sense of the cultural tease that recurs throughout this cruise; an entire day could be spent in the museum-you’ll get an hour. Suffice it to say that the King Tutankhamen exhibit alone contains some 5000 pieces; the much heralded King Tut exhibit that toured the U.S. contained only 75 major pieces.

The drive to the pyramids is punctuated by the bountiful street sights of this strange city, providing a sense of civilization run amuck (a decrepit donkey cart loaded with some unidentifiable crop passes underneath a bizarrely painted movie billboard touting The Return of Al Capone). The bus passes over the Nile (even in the heart of the city it is grand and beautiful) and past “the largest zoo in Africa” (producing again, tourist’s regret – that must be one extraordinary zoo) to a lunch stop at the exotic Mena House hotel (which appears to be the place to stay in Cairo, despite a pathetic lunchtime belly dancer named Fifi Abdou).

The great pyramids of Giza shatter another personal myth. 1 was under the postcard impression that the pyramids were in the desert; instead, they sit on the edge of the suburb of Giza, and the setting is more like an amusement park: an unceasing parade of camel rides to the base of the pyramids (“one dollar”), a five-minute descent into an empty tomb and out again (“one dollar”), and a snack stand not 300 yards from the paws of the Sphinx (“Coke, one dollar”). It is virtually impossible to respond with the expected “awe of antiquity.” In fact, the most lasting impression here is of the camels; no matter what you’ve heard about them, it can’t prepare you for these foul, snarling, ill-tempered beasts – which nevertheless are fascinating to watch and a real kick to ride. A word of advice: Don’t bother exchanging your money for native currency here or at any other stop on the cruise; the American dollar is always acceptable and it avoids confusion; I knew I was in trouble when my camel driver grinningly grabbed my tip, which I thought was 10 piasters (about 16 cents), but then realized was 10 Egyptian pounds (about $16). Needless to say, he didn’t give it back. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn my lesson -I later paid 85 cents to visit the men’s room.

The tour ends at the Khan el Khalili bazaar of central Cairo, the only point at which you get a first-hand feeling for the city itself. The bazaar is a frenetic scene: streets and alleyways crammed with tiny dark shops full of perfumes, carpets, tobaccos, and jewelry; on the sidewalks outside grimy cafés, old men sit puffing on hookahs while veiled women rush by clutching large bags of unknown things. Just as you begin to adjust and absorb, it’s time to leave. On the long ride back to the ship, you can only reflect that Cairo is a fantastic cultural onslaught, but is like the Stella brand beer you had at lunch -a taste so strange that you need more of it.

Jerusalem. On Thursday morning, still reeling from Cairo, you gaze from your porthole and there sits Israel, in the form of the port of Ashdod. Upon disembarking, you are struck by the quiet, efficient, civilized air of the place, a sharp contrast to the previous day’s cacophony.

The bus drive to Jerusalem, an hour away, winds through the beautiful, rocky Judean hills spotted with pine and eucalyptus forests, all contrary to the dry desert images conjured by Biblical history (and all lovingly described by our tour guide whose name is – no kidding -Moses). The approach to Jerusalem reveals an elegant city of white limestone, draped over a series of hills. The bus unloads at the gates of the old city, where a vendor sells huge sesame seed bagels that must surely be the world’s finest. As you munch quietly and gaze around, the surrounding landscape stretching from this high hill is serene and lovely.

But as you enter the old city walls, the tranquility ends abruptly; the tourist blitz is on again. First to the Wailing Wall, where a noisy, candy-throwing bar mitz-vah is in full swing; then to the gorgeous golden-crowned Dome of the Rock temple, which you rush past almost as if it isn’t there; on up the Via Dolorosa of the hill of Calvary past the first nine of the 14 stations of the cross (the historic points of incident during Jesus’ climb to crucifixion). Elbowing your way through the teeming, tunnel-like bazaar jammed with shops of all imaginable goods, you find yourself wanting to stop everywhere and not stopping anywhere. (If you do stop to buy, do so with American dollars; the Israeli inflation rate of a staggering 180 per cent has forced an ongoing currency changeover – from pounds to sheckles – that adds to the confusion.) And if you want a worthy souvenir, look for a bottle of Sabra, a delicious blend of orange- and chocolate-flavored spirits.

Finally you emerge outside the doors of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, holiest of Christian shrines. Here, you expect, will at last be a sanctuary of peace and quiet. Alas, inside the church is another mass of humanity, struggling to view the extraordinary mosaics, the eerie, candle-laden altar at the site of the cross, and the dark burial tomb of Jesus. The church provides a remarkable clash between its aura of sacred history and its present role as a kind of overcrowded religious museum. Your instinctive reaction is, “I’m glad I was here.”

The tour continues by bus to the Church of the Garden of Gethsemane, at the base of the Mount of Olives, peacefully situated on the fringe of the city. Inside the church is an altar built around the rock upon which Jesus was said to have endured his private vigil in the wilderness. Above the rock is a bold mosaic depicting the scene, and here, thanks to the quiet and the diminished crowds, is the first time you can attempt to make any contemplative connection between what is and what was. It’s a welcome respite.

But the tour forges on to nearby Bethlehem (past rows of souvenir shops such as “The Holy Bible Store,” the “King David Store,” and the “Shepherd’s Tourist Center”) to the Church of the Nativity on the site of Jesus’ birthplace, where again the crowds tend to obscure the impact. However, the intrigue of Israel remains undeniable, especially when, engulfed by religious history, you walk past a newsstand blaring headlines of new Israeli aircraft forays into Lebanon. This city, you are reminded, is the historical center of both the Christian and Moslem religions and is, at the same time, the center of Middle Eastern militarism. This city, you are reminded, requires another visit.

Finally, the bus carries you to the port of Haifa near the Lebanese border (the ship has sailed up the coast from Ashdod during the day) and, after a last stop at the top of Mount Carmel for a sparkling nighttime view of the port below and the mountains of Lebanon in the distance, you are returned to your stateroom on the Stella Solaris, where you are likely to collapse in exhaustion.

This itinerary, however, is well-conceived in that the heavy touring of Cairo and Jerusalem occurs early in the cruise; from here on, the cruise assumes a much more relaxed pace, a kind of welcome reward for your two days of tourist’s labor.

Cyprus. This is your first reward. There is a tour available in Cyprus, but you may be inclined to pass at the thought of yet another bus. Instead, a shuttle will carry you from the port into the town of Limas-sol; you’ll have from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon to cover this small, quiet, lovely town on your own, and it’s easily done. Your first inclination may be to deposit yourself at a table in one of the seaside sidewalk cafés and sip some of the richest expresso you’ll find anywhere. From there you can wander at will: along the rocky coast, through the gorgeous botanical gardens about a half-mile stroll up the coast road, through the ancient Limassol castle, or through the backstreet shops that inspire leisurely conversations with friendly shopkeepers. (“You’re American?” asked one elderly man in his jewelry shop. “Yes,” we replied. “I’m from Brooklyn,” he announced in a thick accent that wasn’t Brooklyn. “You are?” “Yes, it was my home once.” “For how long?” we asked. “For three weeks,” he said.)

Cyprus is a good-sized island in the easternmost end of the Mediterranean; it is not a Greek island, though it once was. Today it is two islands in one; the southern half is Cypriot, the northern half is Turkish, and the line of demarcation between them has seen periods of nationalistic friction. The Cypriot southern half, in which Limassol is located, has begun to develop a resort industry, but in Limassol, which is really not a tourist town, the major resource is wine production. So, before returning to the ship, you may want to end your pleasant and restorative visit here by returning to a seaside café to sample some of the fruits of the local vines, particularly the sweet and delicious white wines.

Rhodes. Your view from the deck before disembarking on Saturday morning suggests instantly that this will be a particularly rewarding stop. From the water, ancient stone walls rise up, giving the impression that the city of Rhodos, on the northern shore of the island of Rhodes, is one massive castle. The walls are remnants of this fortress city’s past, when it was a prime target for invaders, due to its key position in Mediterranean trade routes. Today, however, the walls encompass a city of tranquility, an immensely beautiful city that defines the word “picturesque.” Your stay on this Greek island will be a full day, and you’ll appreciate every minute of it.

Again, a tour is available (primarily to visit the ancient city of Lindos to the south), but again there are better options. One, in fact, is to tour the island by taxi; taxi driver Sotiris Stavras, for example, will serve as chauffeur in his Mercedes 200 taxi for the entire day for 4000 drachmas (about $80); for a group of four people, that is less than the cost of a bus tour – and you can go wherever you want, circling the entire island if you wish; if you choose to stop at a beach for a few hours, Sotiris will gladly wait while you sunbathe.

The beaches of Rhodes are renowned, and this is really the only stop on the cruise where you can enjoy a beach of any kind. And a “Greek cruise” would seem somehow incomplete without at least a few hours sunning on Grecian sands. The beach most easily accessible from the ship is the Faliraki beach, about 20 minutes by bus or cab (or, if you’re feeling adventurous, by motorbike, which can be easily rented in town). Faliraki is by no means the most scenic of Rhodian beaches, just the easiest to get to (and time, as always, is of the essence). The beach is dotted with small tavernas that will cater to your needs, providing chairs, food, and, best of all, excellent Rhodian wines. (We were graciously treated by taverna owner Michael, who seems to have a special affection for Texans-“I would love to go to Texas more than anyplace,” he said, “but I think I’m afraid…”)

When your sunning is done, return to Rhodes for your own tour of the city. Rhodes is divided into two distinct sections, Old Town and New Town. The Old Town, with its walls, is a maze of narrow stone streets lined with small shops ranging from souvenir stalls to elegant purveyors of furs, shoes, and jewelry (if shopping is a part of your travel regimen, this is the place to do it); at every corner are tree-shaded sidewalk cafés where you can eat a flaky cheese pie or down a glass of potent ouzo, the Greek anise-flavored liqueur. (A gourmet tip: Try the Rhodian pizza, served folded like a sandwich and incredibly good.)

The adjacent New Town is marked by the main harbor and the site where the famed Colossus of Rhodes once stood astride the harbor entrance. This is a postcard port, crowded with little fishing boats and huge private yachts. Nearby are the more modern stores of the New Town, sitting in the shadow of the towering ancient Palace of the Grand Masters that dominates the town’s geography. Between the Old Town and the New is a massive park built around a deer preserve, the deer being the symbol of Rhodes since they were brought in long ago to rid the island of a plague of snakes. Surely there is no city in the world with a central park more beautiful than this one. And undoubtedly there is no point on this cruise where you will be more tempted to jump ship and stay forever.

Kusadasi. Next stop on this cavalcade of cultures is Turkey, at the port of Kusadasi. There is a singular reason for this Sunday morning stop-a tour to the ancient city of Ephessos. The 20-minute bus ride is eye-opening in itself: The stunning coastline and lush mountainous terrain are certainly not compatible with the prevailing images of Turkey (at least not mine, which were of a flat, arid, barren land). Along the coast is evidence of a growing tourist trade in Turkey; for example, the elegant Kismet Hotel, situated on a scenic peninsula; you’ll make mental notes for the future when told that a stay at the Kismet will cost you a mere $22 a day, including meals. You might also note, however, that temperatures can reach 110 de-grees here in the summer.

Ephessos was a dominant city in antiquity, considered, during the Roman Empire, to be the greatest city in Asia Minor. It was once a port city, but now, strangely, it sits inland, its once-great harbor and feeding river long since dried up, leaving only an empty delta where once floated great ships of commerce and war. Today Ephessos is the site of one of the most significant archeological excavations in the world, rivaling those of Pompeii. There is, in fact, a kind of running archeological feud between proponents of the two; fans of Ephessos, however, point out that only some 10 per cent of Ephessos has been excavated; when completed, they say, nothing in the world of ancient archeology will compare.

That 10 per cent alone is stunning enough. The smaller fascinations of this place are too numerous to delineate; a good tour guide here is of immense value in bringing the place alive (though you have little choice, you might seek out a young Turkish woman named Nil who is a master of the tour guide craft), by pointing out such features as the lines carved in the marble roads to aid uphill traction for wheeled carts on rainy days or the public toilets where slaves warmed the cold stone seats prior to their masters’ use.

Before returning to the ship, you may have a little time to run through the small (pop. 10,000) port town of Kusadasi – we had about 20 minutes-if only to catch a glimpse of the famous Turkish rugs. There are a host of rug shops, but you might look for one called Bazaar 77 where, if you like, you can get a complete lecture on the art of rug weaving (perhaps you didn’t know that Turkish rugs are double knotted while Persian rugs are single knotted) and where you can buy such a rug for 40 to 50 per cent of what it would cost you in the States – no small savings when you’re looking at an $18,000 rug for $8000.

Don’t become too captivated by rug weaving, however; the ship sails at 11:45 a.m. and, rest assured, they won’t wait if you’re late. Sunday afternoon is spent at sea, pointing toward one last evening stop on the island of Mykonos. This is a last chance to enjoy the amenities of the ship, which are many. The Stella Solaris is an extremely well-polished operation – veteran “cruisers” (there are such people, those who have logged a dozen or more cruises, including some who are into their fourth dozen) rank it among the five finest passenger liners in the world. The food is splendid, the service precise, the disembarkations smooth and efficient. But the real appeal of this particular cruise is that it attracts an international clientele; on average the ship carries a passenger list of about 50 per cent English speaking (British and American), 20 to 25 per cent French, 15 to 20 per cent Spanish, 10 to 15 per cent German; it’s a daily education in itself just to hear every announcement in four languages.

Mykonos. This final port of call is an all too brief one (a mere six hours), but one evening in Mykonos is better than no Mykonos at all. And Mykonos, sometimes referred to as “the St. Tropez of the Greek islands,” is actually well-suited to an evening stop-small, compact, and full of nightlife. Arrival just before sundown allows you to catch a glimpse of this whitewashed village -from the sea it doesn’t look real, more like a dream. (The word “quaint” was made for Mykonos.) Thanks to its magnificent beaches and its relative proximity to the Greek mainland, Mykonos is Greece’s most popular resort island (interestingly, it was most popularized for a time by gays, who still have a notable presence here) and has become known as a chic outpost for fashion and the fashionable (visit, for instance, the dazzling La-laounis jewelry shop, which seems more like a jewelry museum than a store).

But this night, the last of the cruise, is more suited to celebration than shopping, and there are plenty of places to do so, from waterfront seafood patios to back-street discos. (Before you choose your dining spot, stop at one of the little stands on the square and have a wooden skewer of grilled lamb served with a slab of Greek bread, a kind of walking appetizer on your way to a restaurant.) You can follow your nose and find a good restaurant here, but you can’t go wrong by seeking out the Tav-erna Nikos (on a back street, but any local can tell you how to find it). This small, crowded cafe, run by a jovial, curly-haired Greek named, of course, Nikos, has a native air-there are more locals here than tourists. Dine on the broiled whitefish or the grilled veal chops or the moussaka, wash it down with a Greek white wine or a bottle of retsina (the resinous red wine peculiar to Greece -beware, it’s different), eat a last sweet slice of baklava, toast your good fortune with a last glass of ouzo, and enjoy. Because when you wake up tomorrow morning you’ll be at the docks of Athens and it will all be over.

(Last tip: As Athens is your point of departure, it would be remiss not to visit there either before or after the cruise. Consider doing it before, to allow yourself both jet lag recuperation and Greek encul-turation before sailing. Give yourself at least three days, as Athens is a city and a citizenry without touristic affectations, but with a subtle charm that grows on you the longer you stay.)

The Stella Solaris sails this itinerary every other week during the summer season; the last sailing date in 1981 is October 19. Fares (adults/per person/double occupancy) range from $845 for a lower deck inner cabin (basic bed and bath, no window) to $1645 for an upper deck deluxe suite (complete with sitting room, large windows, and closed circuit color TV). For cut-rate cruisers it’s worth noting that a family or party of four could share a four-bunk cabin for as little as $103 per person per day. Shore excursion tours are additional, ranging from $20 per person (Rhodes) to $65 per person (Cairo).

On alternate weeks in the summer, the Stella Solaris sails a different seven-day itinerary: Dikili (Turkey), Istanbul, Kusa-dasi/Ephessos, Rhodes, Crete, Santorini, and Mykonos. This itinerary essentially exchanges Istanbul for Cairo/Jerusalem, Crete for Cypress, and provides a full day in Mykonos. In 1982, Sun Lines will also offer a two-week itinerary combining these two cruises, allowing more time in certain ports of call, notably Cairo and Jerusalem.

(Additional information – departure dates, fares, etc. – can be obtained through a travel agent or through Sun Lines Cruises in New York, (212) 397-6400.)