Day 4. Warnemunde, a German seaport town.

Right. Off we go. I’d researched this area, so when we walked to the train station I knew how to operate the ticket machine. It was of a particularly inept design, and uncommonly slow. It was all in German. The people ahead of me in line were stymied by it; and they were Germans! They took such a long time at the machine that we missed our first connection. I actually had to show a German-speaking lady how to work the machine.

Eventually we got all-day tickets on the local transit system: trains, buses, and trams. We took a bus to Bad Doberon, a small town with a giant minster. More interesting to me was the small gauge steam railway that runs right through the middle of town. When the train comes through, all traffic is blocked on either end while it huffs and puffs down the street.

From the moment we boarded the bus, we were away from the tourists and among the locals. On the 13 kilometer drive to Bad Doberon, we passed four wind farms. In the large green square in the town center was a restaurant where we enjoyed rabarber apfel pie.

We took the train to Rostock, the largest city in the area. It was a disappointment. It’s not a tourist town, and we walked far too much in search of the city center. I had a compass and binoculars, which helped us orienteer. In fact we’d have been better off to ignore the signs and rely strictly on the compass; the signs were for vehicular traffic, which takes a long route avoiding the pedestrian areas.

We took the train back to Warnemunde, and would have taken a meal there but we found no restaurant with an English menu. I once got a plate of liver from trying to order off a German menu, and I wasn’t about to try that again. So we returned to the ship and had the first satisfying meal since we had fish and chips in a London pub. Food is not a featured attraction on this cruise.

I estimate the median age on this boat at 65. In the lounge, the band will at long intervals play a nice old song. Instantly the dance floor fills with senior couples. Then the band resumes playing 70s and 80s trash and the dance floor is deserted. You’d think the band would notice that. Real dance music is quite rare. That is, except for what appears to be far and away the most popular song in this region of the world: Beer Barrel Polka. We’ve heard it from every band on board, and in every port. When we walked from the ship to the town in Warnemunde, a bar was playing a recording of Beer Barrel Polka. Danby and I are the only ones on ship who danced to it.

Distance we walked today: has to be at least twelve miles. Tomorrow we’re at sea. I’ll need the rest. The sea has promised to be calm.