The spirit of adventure
The modes of transport we use to travel may have changed a lot in 60 years, writes Bev Wood, but the sense of excitement, the wonder, and the sights and smells were as amazing in the 1960s as they are today.
How travel has changed. Once upon a time it was explorers wanting to see if there was a better life to be had elsewhere. I guess that is the reason my forebears left Britain, with little more than their memories, for a new life in a new land – a land of opportunities.
It was a sense of adventure that enticed me to travel the world, back to ‘‘the old country’’.
A little more than 100 years after the first of my family arrived in New Zealand, I set sail for the northern hemisphere.
It might not have been a six-month trip by sailing ship as my ancestors had experienced, but it was still a sea voyage.
That was the usual mode of transport when I left for my OE. If someone knew you were heading overseas, the first question asked was ‘‘what ship are you going on’’?
Air travel was far more expensive and, anyway, the thought of a long sea voyage and the chance to visit many countries along the way sounded far more exciting. And so it was.
In 1963, I moved to Wellington. This seemed exotic after leaving my hometown of Hamilton. Oh, how Hamilton has changed since.
Now it’s a multicultural, vibrant city, but in those days it was a conservative, quiet place to live.
One of the things that attracted me when I arrived in the capital for the first time was the comings and goings of ocean liners. The exuberant hoots and whistles as they sailed out of the harbour excited me. What an adventure it must be to travel on one of those floating marvels, I thought.
A year later I discovered just what an adventure it was, when I sailed out of Auckland on a sunny November evening to the sound of people calling to one another from the ship to wharf, Now is the Hour playing its evocative tune, streamers fluttering in the breeze, and tears streaming down our faces.
The SS Oronsay was far from the luxurious liners that visit our shores these days. The cabin my friend and I shared with two others was in the bowels of the ship, with barely enough room to swing the proverbial cat.
This was our home for six exciting weeks, and we spent very little time in our cabin so the cramped conditions didn’t worry us.
There was plenty to occupy our time besides the endless ocean to watch. There were other young ones to meet, deck games, a pool to swim in, deck chairs to laze in, concerts, movies, bingo, a library, fancy dress parties, and balls. Trying to dance as the ship tossed and rolled was quite an art, as was chasing a ball around in a game of ping pong.
The ship was a two-class liner and, of course, we budget travellers were confined to second class – or we were meant to be. This didn’t stop us adventurous ones from exploring the upper decks on occasion where the well-to-do travelled in relative luxury.
I’m sure the officers on board turned a blind eye to us unless someone did something outrageous, as some of them did.
More sensible passengers were careful not to draw undue attention to ourselves and, on rare
Although I have since travelled back to Asia and Europe on numerous occasions, nothing will compare to my first trip overseas and the wonderful, carefree days of shipboard life.
occasions, even managed to have a quiet drink in the spacious lounge feeling rather grand, but mostly we preferred to stay in our own quarters where it was far more fun.
Every few days we arrived at a different port, sometimes staying two or three nights. I hadn’t left New Zealand before, so the amazing shops and sights of Australian cities were exciting. Imagine our amazement when we discovered cafes on the footpaths. That would never happen in New Zealand – or so we thought then.
We visited Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, and Fremantle, picking up more travellers (and dropping off passengers, some of whom were on their way home to Australia after attending the Olympic Games in Tokyo.) We got used to hearing the strains of Waltzing Matilda as we left the ports and, as we saw Australians shedding a few tears, it reminded us of our own emotional farewell.
Then we headed to Singapore. If I had thought Australian cities were exotic, my first glimpse of Asia was even more amazing, and that started a long fascination with Asian countries.
The hectic markets, the variety of goods, the food, and the sounds and smells, captivated us. It was a whole new world.
Even more challenging were the next ports of call. Bombay (now Mumbai), and Aden (in Yemen). At the ports, the ship was met by tour buses, rickshaws or other forms of local transport – and taxis. Of course, there was great competition trying to entice us.
As canny young travellers we became adept at getting the best deal, often several of us squeezing into a taxi. We bartered with our drivers until we agreed on how much and where to go. This meant we often saw out-of-the-way places, and were taken to shops and markets in back alleys where we learnt to bargain, with hilarious results.
The locals were as interested in us as we were in them. Once back on board, we would compare stories with our friends. Who had bought a nicely packaged shirt only to discover one sleeve missing? Who had bought the most ostentatious smoking jacket? Who had a new ‘‘Rolex’’ watch that lasted a few days? Who had bought the best length of silk, and who had made time to get a dress or suit made?
In Egypt, we berthed at Suez, and most of the passengers piled into buses and were taken to the hectic, horn-honking city of Cairo to see the Egyptian Museum with its mummies and other antiquities.
Of course, no visit to this city would be complete without visiting the Pyramids and the Sphinx. Some of us even had a short ride on a mangy camel before we were bundled back into our buses for the evening drive across the desert.
We marvelled at the wonderful sunset that set the world on fire, before arriving in the city of Ismailia, at the northern end of the Suez Canal, where our ship was waiting for us. Those passengers who had chosen to stay on board to sail through the canal had found it a fascinating experience, but I was pleased we had made the decision to visit Cairo with all its treasures.
Now we were in the Mediterranean, and Europe was in our sights. We first set foot on The Continent at Piraeus, the port for Athens, one of the many highlights of the trip. Naturally, we fell in love with the city and vowed to return at a later date, which we did.
Marseilles, in the south of France, was our next port of call, then Gibraltar.
Finally, on a misty January morning, after six weeks at sea, we sailed into Tilbury Docks and stepped onto English soil. Although I have since travelled back to Asia and Europe on numerous occasions, nothing will compare to my first trip overseas and the wonderful, carefree days of shipboard life.
Thirty-five years after my OE, my daughter and her husband set off on theirs, flying out from Auckland in a big steel bird. There were tears and hugs, of course, but where was the excitement of streamers and strains of Now is the Hour playing?
We knew they would be able to ring home, and even email us. They wouldn’t have to rely on letters to keep in touch as we had. I felt sad that they wouldn’t have the fun of a long sea voyage that had been my experience of a lifetime, but it was their own adventure and they enjoyed every moment of it.
What will the future of travel look like? Whatever happens, it will never be quite the same. I feel privileged to have explored the world in such a wonderful manner. Happy memories.