THERE IS NO GENERALIZATION to be made about European ports. Venice, la Serenissima, the maritime city-state that once dominated the entire world and still dominates romantic fantasies, bears no relation whatsoever to, say, Bergen, Norway's second-largest city. Bergen, which the European Union (EU) has named the Center of European Culture in 2000, has the same size population as Baton Rouge; however, Bergen rests its elbow not on the bayou, but on the breathtaking million- year-old fjords of Norway's west coast. No, Bergen has nothing in common with Venice, nor with Tilbury, the nondescript dock for London, nor with cos­mopolitan Hamburg, the Hanseatic port. Hold it. Bergen and Hamburg were indeed once connected, since Bergen was also a member of the medieval Hanseatic League. Hamburg, in turn, has its Venetian parallel, Hamburgers describe their city as the German Venice, since it not only teeters on the water's edge, but invites some of it to flow right on through: the great river Elbe and the smaller Aister with its dammed lakes, Binnenalster and Aussenaister, snake through this seaport city. The point is that European ports, like Hamburg, Bergen, and Tilbury, introduce and represent not only regions, but discrete cultures, each with its own language, its centuries of history, art, architecture, cuisine, and way of life, Each country's spirit is encoded not only in its famous buildings, but in its quotidian details-the Spanish never sup before ten, for instance, while their neighbors, the Portuguese, dine at eight; the French still consider a three-hour, three-course lunch their birthright, while the British nowadays grab a sandwich at their desk, A European voyage means sailing from the midnight sun or frigid, black winter of the far north to sunbaked Lisbon; it means ordering smorg~isbord, paella, bouillabaisse, rijsttafel, caldeirada, or fish and chips, washed down with a glass of akvavit, Chateau Margaux, slivovitz, or Guiness.