Day 40…Fantastic day with Rita and Gerhard in Bali!…

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No words can describe how wonderful it was to be together with our dear friends, Rita and Gerhard, whom we met in Marloth Park in 2018, who’d been following our site for years.

Seeing our dear friends Rita and Gerhard in Bali yesterday was the best possible port-of-call tour we could have imagined, the kind of day that fills the heart in a way no guidebook or excursion ever could. After Rita broke her foot on a tour in Africa a few months ago, she required months of recovery, a period that would test the patience of even the most resilient traveler. But in true Rita fashion, she and Gerhard decided to spend those months somewhere beautiful, warm, and soothing to the soul. They chose wisely. They’ve been tucked away at the exquisite Grand Hyatt Bali in Nusa Dua, a massive, lush, undeniably five-star resort that has been their temporary home these past few months.

The resort is massive with one exciting venue after another.

The resort itself was a sight to behold, sweeping grounds, carefully manicured gardens, and the kind of tropical serenity that makes you wish you could slow the day down just a little more. But as lovely as it all was, what mattered most was being with them again. There’s something about familiar friends, the ones who have walked alongside you through years, continents, and countless stories, that makes even the simplest moments feel elevated. Yesterday was one of those days.

There were countless pools throughout the property.

They picked us up in a taxi at the pier at 11:00 am, and somehow, despite the crowds and the bustle of disembarking passengers, we spotted each other instantly. The four of us piled into the vehicle, as no time had passed at all, and made the easy 20-minute drive to the resort, chatting nonstop the entire way. Upon arrival, we were given what they jokingly called “the Grand Tour,” and truly, it was. Their suite was nothing short of phenomenal, with breathtaking views, airy spaces, and that intangible sense of tranquility that only a few places in the world seem to capture.

Tom, taking with his hands as always.

As we wandered through the property and admired their temporary home, we slipped right back into our usual lively, animated banter. It’s funny how friendships like this move effortlessly between laughter, reflection, gentle teasing, and deeper conversation without missing a beat. We caught up on their months in Bali, on our recent travels, on the mundane and the extraordinary. It was wonderful, comforting, energizing, and grounding to be with them once again.

My dear Rita… we have such great memories of the past years we spent together, off and on, in many locations throughout the world.

Eventually, we made our way to lunch at one of the resort’s stunning restaurants, where the setting was as delightful as the company. The four of us savored a delicious meal while continuing our rewarding conversations, the kind that stretch well past the last bite and leave you feeling fuller in every sense.

Rita and I both ordered the delicious barramundi, my favorite fish in Australia.

I found myself surprised—and grateful—for how well I was able to walk. Rita and I held onto one another as we navigated the massive resort, two women in recovery, encouraging each other with each careful step. Still, we managed to rack up about 5,000 steps, an achievement that left us both smiling. It felt good to be outdoors, even wrapped in Bali’s signature heat and humidity, the air thick but somehow still comforting.

Tom and Gerhard ordered the pork tortellini, which they both enjoyed.

As the afternoon began to fade, we knew it was time to return to the ship. Parting was softened by the knowledge that we’ll see them again in about five months, this time on their home turf in Vancouver, Washington, when we’ll be back in the US for grandson Miles’ graduation. The thought of another reunion is yet another reason to look forward to our trip to the US.

This pumpkin and arugula salad was superb.

Once back on board, we slipped into our usual routine, dressing for the evening and heading to the R-Bar by 5:30. The routine of ship life after a day ashore is reassuring and comforting. We settled in for another delightful evening, enjoying the new and familiar faces, easy conversations, and gentle buzz of fellow passengers winding down after their own adventures. Dinner followed at a shared table in the main dining room, the perfect ending to a day that felt both full and restorative.

Many birds have made the resort their home.

It was, in every way, a memorable day—one that reminded us how lucky we are to have friends who feel like home, no matter where in the world we meet them.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 5, 2015:

In Fiji, we enjoyed visiting the Vuodomo waterfall, requiring quite a hike through the rainforest. For more photos, please click here.

Day 38…Out to sea…What happened with our requested cabin change?…

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Not our photos, although our cabin is similar.

Three weeks after I injured my knee in that unfortunate stumble in the corridor, we decided not to push the issue when the ship didn’t offer us a different cabin closer to the elevators. Perhaps we could have pressed it harder—others might have—but something in me resisted making a fuss. I told myself that the extra walking would serve as unplanned physical therapy. With that mindset, we unpacked, settled in, and accepted our location at the distant aft section of the ship. The cabin itself was perfectly fine, comfortable enough for these 12 days, and our cabin steward, “Hi,” has been nothing short of excellent, warm, attentive, and determined to keep everything spotless and organized.

Unpacking this time was easier than usual. After all, this final segment of the 47-night journey is the shortest of the three, so we didn’t need to unload every last item as we had for the earlier legs. Now, after several days, our things have found their places, the cabin feels like ours, and surprisingly, the long walks to the elevators have not been the burden I feared. If anything, they have strengthened my knee and encouraged me to move more than I might have otherwise. Funny how frustrations sometimes reveal themselves to be gifts.

This third leg of the cruise is noticeably busier, packed, really, with about 30% more passengers than the earlier two segments. I’d estimate that roughly 75% of them are Australian, with the remainder traveling from a mix of other countries. As far as we can tell, there are only a handful of Americans aboard. With these increased numbers, every venue feels hotter and louder, and the previously quiet corners around the ship now bustle with activity. We’ve also seen a significant increase in families with children, many traveling for the Christmas holidays, and quite a few college-age passengers filling the pool deck and the restaurants.

There’s no question that the atmosphere on the first two legs suited us better, quieter, lower-key, and more spacious. But that’s travel: circumstances shift, crowds change, and you adjust. And even amid the noise and heat, familiar friendships have brought bright pockets of joy. We’ve loved reconnecting with Michelle and Sheryl, whom we first met years ago on another cruise and later visited when we had a port of call in Perth. Michelle and her husband Carlo picked us up for a beautiful day of sightseeing, and spending time with them again now reminds me how fortunate we are to have gathered friends around the world like seashells from different beaches.

We’ve also met several lovely Australians at trivia and again at dinner over the past two evenings since they boarded in Singapore. I continue to believe that travelers share a certain unspoken kinship—an appreciation for stories, discovery, and a willingness to say yes. Every time we sit down at a communal table, I’m reminded how small the world truly becomes when strangers allow themselves to become friends.

But the highlight of this week is still ahead. Tomorrow, December 4, when the ship docks in Benoa, Bali, Rita and Gerhard will be waiting at the port at 11:00 am to pick us up. We’re spending the day with them, catching up, and returning well before our late-afternoon sail-away. I already feel the flutter of anticipation to see them once again. What a gift to share pieces of this journey with people we love.

It has been a remarkable run of reunions: first, Louise and Danie in Cape Town; then Ulla on the second leg; now, Michelle and Sheryl; and tomorrow, Rita and Gerhard. To think of all these lives woven into our own, thread by thread, story by story, reminds me how deeply this travel life has expanded our world. We never, ever take these friendships for granted.

Today is a calm sea day, the ocean flat and silvery as we move steadily toward Bali. At the moment, we’re seated at the Promenade Café, where, no matter how crowded the ship becomes, we’ve surprisingly always managed to find our same cozy banquette corner. I type away on today’s post while Tom watches U.S. football on his laptop with his earbuds in, shaking his head every so often when a play surprises him. It is an odd little rhythm, but after so many years together, it feels like home.

For all the extra passengers, extra noise, and extra walking, we have no complaints. We are grateful, truly grateful, for these long stretches at sea and for this chance to experience the world slowly, one port, one friendship, one sunrise at a time. And yet, part of the joy is also looking ahead: tomorrow with Rita and Gerhard; and in only ten days, our upcoming lovely home in Kaiwaka, New Zealand. Another chapter is waiting.

So we carry on, content, hopeful, and eager for whatever comes next.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 3, 2015:

The hot springs are where many locals cook their potatoes and root vegetables. For more photos, please click here.

Day 36…Singapore, port of call…Waiting for several hours to access our cabin…Rough night…

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View of Singapore from the ship.

The last time I remember looking at the clock, it blinked back at me with an unforgiving 4:00 am. Only three hours later, I heard Tom getting up, his careful footsteps and the sound of the shower telling me morning had arrived far too soon. Knowing we had to check in at the main dining room by 9:00 am as consecutive passengers, I dragged myself out of bed as soon as he was done in the bathroom. Those mornings when sleep has barely graced me always feel like wading through molasses—the simple act of showering and getting dressed becomes a slow, deliberate process, each step requiring more focus than it should.

I stuffed my pajamas and a few last-minute odds and ends into my bag, grateful that at least packing was minimal for this short transition day. Usually, anticipation of travel or logistical tasks doesn’t disrupt my sleep—after all these years on the road, constant movement has become second nature. But last night’s inexplicable insomnia threw me entirely off balance.

After checking in with our Indonesian and Australian e-visas in hand, we made our way to the Promenade Cafe, where the aroma of fresh coffee gave me the slightest boost of hope. We settled into our usual corner, hopeful we could get started on today’s post, but quickly discovered the ship’s WiFi had been shut off during the disembarkation and embarkation process. Fortunately, our T-Mobile hotspot came to the rescue. It wasn’t lightning fast, but it worked well enough for us to begin catching up. As soon as the ship’s WiFi comes back online—any minute now—we’ll switch back, since we’ve already paid for the service for this final leg of our back-to-back cruise.

We spent over a week in Singapore the last time we were here, and on other occasions as well.

From our seats, we watched the familiar rhythm of turnaround day unfold: departing passengers rolling their suitcases toward the gangway, crew members resetting stations with the quiet efficiency we’ve come to admire, and the early trickle of new passengers boarding. There’s always a comforting predictability to this process, a sort of intermission between chapters of ship life.

While we waited, our dear friends Diana and Peter stopped by the table to say goodbye. In just a few weeks, casual greetings in the R-Bar and main dining room had grown into warm, easy conversation, the kind of connection that feels so natural you forget it’s only been a short time. They’re hoping to visit us in Marloth Park next August, an idea that feels both exciting and surreal. We genuinely hope it works out for them; sharing that extraordinary place with friends is always such a joy.

We also said goodbye to Salli, Barbara, and several others we’ve met along the way. It always amazes me how ships create their own little temporary communities. Each voyage becomes a microcosm of shared routines, passing familiar faces at the Promenade Cafe, seeing the same folks at dinners, and exchanging travel stories at random moments. These friendships, whether brief or long-lasting, become part of the fabric of our journey.

We’re still waiting to hear whether we’ve been moved to a more suitable location on the ship. If not, we’ll have to accept the reality of the distant cabin on Deck 6, tucked so far from the elevators that it feels like a daily pilgrimage, especially with my knee still acting up.

View of Singapore’s skyline.

There’s something about cruise days like this, turnover days, full of new faces and rolling suitcases, that makes everything feel temporarily suspended. The crew is busy preparing, the ship hums with anticipation, and we’re simply waiting, caught between hope and resignation. We won’t know anything until the last of the new passengers has boarded and we’re minutes from casting off from Singapore.

Until then, all we can do is sit with the not-knowing, our bags waiting to be unpacked, our minds half-settled, reminding ourselves that after years of living on the move, flexibility isn’t just a skill. It’s our daily practice.

Once the newly arriving passengers board, we’ll see our old friends Michelle and Sheryl, who are boarding here in Singapore. It will be fun to see them again since our last get-together in 2018.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at me today, there’s a soft comfort in knowing that even sleepless nights and groggy mornings still find their way into the larger, ongoing story of our travels. Not every day is seamless or restful, but each one carries its own small mosaic of experiences… goodbyes, quiet frustrations, and tiny triumphs that remind us why we embrace this ever-changing life at sea and also while traveling on land.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 1, 2015:

Private pier at the Cousteau Resort in Fiji. For more photos, please click here.