Visions of Crystal in Northern Europe - cruise on luxury liner 'Crystal Harmony' - includes related articles on air travel

USA Today (Society for the Advancement of Education), March, 1994 by Laurel F. Lehrer, Sheila Rothenberg, Robert S. Rothenberg

LIKE FINE CRYSTAL radiating soft colors of light through prismatic cuts in the glass, Crystal Harmony offered a diffusion of light in the elegant Crystal Plaza, an atrium lobby, the central hub of this 49,400-ton ship. Water rhythmically and gently cascaded down the two-deck-high fountain of six hand-cut crystal columns. A circular ceiling of multi-colored, leaded glass formed a canopy over this bubbling creation. Standing in the splashing pool below, a life-size bronze sculpture of a dancing couple was frozen into a graceful dip. Facing the fountain were soft beige leather sofas and chairs, tempting passengers of the sleek white luxury liner to relax. Melodious tunes flowed from the lucite crystal grand piano in the adjoining Crystal Cove Bar.

This magnificently designed ship was launched in July, 1990, by Crystal Cruises, a California-based subsidiary of Japan's NYK Line. Crystal Harmony proved to be an elegant cruiser, indeed, for its 960 passengers. In addition to sophisticated services on board, it offered an extensive selection of shore excursions. I had chosen this ship not only for its fine reputation, but for the distinctive spring itinerary of northern European ports, mainly around the British Isles.

After the ship departed from Tilbury on Britain's eastern coast, sailing past the bright white cliffs of Dover, the Channel island of Guernsey came into view between England and France. The harbor of St. Peter Port, the capital, was a sloping hillside of red and blue stone houses. A vigorous cliffside walk along the southern coast proved spectacular as well as invigorating. I climbed a dirt path that, at times, skirted dangerously close to the precipice.

The mid-morning sun, rising in the azure sky, cast silvery glints on the distant bluegreen water. Below the cliff, white sea birds skimmed the frothy foam. How refreshing to breathe the cool, crisp sea air, which stirred red, white, purple, and yellow wildflowers that coated the rocky slopes. Photographers were busy at lookout points snapping rolling emerald pastures with tranquil Guernsey cattle grazing near white farmhouses. No wonder Renoir was reputed to have set up his easel here.

I proceeded inland to Sausmarez Manor, a mid-13th-century stately home, decorated in Queen Anne and Tudor styles. Peter de Sausmarez, the current owner and seigneur (lord), conducted a personal tour which included descriptions and tales of historical treasures on display throughout the house. Many of his ancestors had served as bailiffs (governors) of Guemsey. One even had been a governor of New York State.

With pride, the present seigneur entered the formal dining room where the table was set for dinner. On the bold red damaskcovered walls were four generations o family members peering from their imposing portraits. The walls of a nearby smaller room were enriched with priceless, fading, antique mythical tapestries. A glass show case displayed the intricately embroidered wedding suit of James 11 of England. One of the most prized possessions was the handwritten log of Capt. Phillip Sausmarez, commander of the warship Centurion. His capture of a Spanish treasure ship provided funds to restore and enlarge this fine manor. After taking me through his house, Sausmarez generously provided a champagne and canape reception in the main hall.

Another Guernsey surprise was the quaint Little Chapel of Vauxbelets. Fashioned from broken fragments of colorful china and some seashells by a monk of the De La Salle order, the chapel, complete with tiny turrets, low doorways, and Gothic arches, resembled a grotto in Lourdes, France. This edifice has the distinction of being the smallest church in the world.

From Crystal to crystal

Leaving Guernsey, Crystal Harmony steered a course for the southeastern coast of Ireland and the port of Waterford, renowned for its exquisite crystal. About one mile outside the city, I toured the busy factory, walking around blazing hot kilns where the initial shaping of the glass took place. In other dusty workshops, black markings were applied to each piece. Diligent workers, covered with face masks, rubber aprons, and high rubber boots, used stone and diamond grinding wheels to cut the distinctive faceted patterns that make Waterford crystal world-famous. Perfection was the rule. Each piece was screened rigorously for errors; if found, the glass unceremoniously was smashed to the floor. Broken pieces then were remelted into a new batch, ensuring that the enscribed Waterford name only represented exemplary quality.

Waterford's two-floor gallery was dazzling. Sparkling in brightly lit, mirrored niches were flawless one-of-a-kind, imaginatively designed bowls, vases, and sporting trophies. Awe-inspiring were chandeliers, a huge globe whose continents and countries were clearly recognizable, and a replica of the Tutankhamen mask.

Not far from the Waterford factory was a serene countryside. Cattle, sheep, and horses wandered leisurely in pastures that looked like green velvet, fenced in by thick shrubs and trees, forming a natural and lush patchwork of fields.