This morning, our ship docked in Pointes des Galets, Reunion Island, a place that, at first glance, doesn’t seem to offer the usual array of enticing sights or experiences we often look forward to when pulling into a new port. From our balcony door, we could see the gray outline of the small port town, softened not just by distance but by the steady drizzle that had already settled in for the day. There’s a certain charm in waking up to rain on a ship, the way it mutes the colors outside while making the interior spaces feel cozier, more intimate, almost inviting us to savor the comfort of staying aboard.
As we listened to the morning announcements, we learned that the ship’s shuttle bus was, once again, headed to a shopping mall. We’ve lost count of how many malls we’ve encountered over the years, especially on itineraries that aim to offer something “easy” for visitors. But at this stage of our travels, browsing through shops selling the same T-shirts, magnets, and perfumes doesn’t appeal to us in the least. The only other notable options on the island seemed to involve hiking into the dramatic volcanic mountains that make Reunion so famous. And while we respect and admire those rugged landscapes from afar, the steep trails and unpredictable weather don’t align with what we can realistically do these days.
So, with little hesitation and absolutely no disappointment, we decided not to disembark the ship today. There’s a quiet relief in giving ourselves permission to stay put without feeling as though we’re missing out. The rain made the choice even easier; it pattered softly against the balcony railing, a gentle reminder that sometimes the best “excursion” is leaning into a slower rhythm.
Instead, we’re planning to create our own version of a rewarding day, right here on board. On sea days and quiet port days like this, we always seem to find ways to keep ourselves engaged without overdoing it. The ship becomes its own little floating town, offering nooks and corners perfect for reading, chatting, people-watching, or simply letting the hours drift by without pressure. We’ll likely start with our usual time in the Promenade Café, where the familiar aroma of complimentary coffee and tea mingles with the soft hum of passengers beginning their day. It’s a comforting space for us, part office, part living room, part social hub, and it gives us that sense of routine we sometimes crave amid constant movement.
Maybe later we’ll wander over to trivia, one of our favorite low-key activities, especially on a dreary day when the indoor venues feel lively. Even if we don’t win, and we rarely do, we enjoy the camaraderie of sitting among other passengers, laughing over answers we should have known, and appreciating the shared silliness of it all. There’s always something uplifting about trivia sessions, a light-hearted break that requires no physical effort yet keeps our minds happily engaged.
In many ways, days like this, unplanned, unhurried, and unstressed, end up being some of the most meaningful. They remind us that travel isn’t only about collecting destinations. It’s also about embracing the ebb and flow of energy, weather, and circumstance. Today, staying on board is not a compromise but a choice rooted in knowing what works for us. And as the rain taps against the windows and the ship rests quietly in port, we’re content to enjoy the simple comfort of being exactly where we are.
Photo from ten years ago today, November 21, 2015:
