Day 16…Transpacific cruise…Port of Oahu…We can load photos, today!..Fantastic day with dear friends Kathy and Don!…

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Kathy and Don’s veranda has stunning views.

Note about photos: There is a sense of relief when, at last, the ship’s WiFi cooperated, and we could upload photos while the ship was docked in Oahu, Hawaii. After days of trying at sea, it felt like reconnecting with a small but meaningful part of our daily routine. Yesterday, after we disembarked the ship, we spent a delightful day with our dear friends Kathy and Don, capturing moments we did not want to forget. Now that everything has finally been downloaded, we look forward to sharing these images over the next several days.

Our dear friends Kathy and Don are on their patio in Hawaii Kai, Koko Isle, Hawaii.

We couldn’t have imagined a more fulfilling day than the one we spent yesterday with our dear friends Kathy and Don. From the moment our Uber pulled up to their lovely oceanfront home in Koko Isle, on an “island within an island” tucked into the peaceful beauty of Hawaii Kai on the island of Oahu, we felt that familiar sense of comfort that only comes from being with people who know you well. We arrived at about 10:30 in the morning and were greeted with warm smiles, heartfelt hugs, and the kind of easy laughter that picks up right where it left off, no matter how much time has passed.

We were so happy to be with our friends once again.              

Their home sits along the water in a way that invites you to slow down. The gentle motion of the ocean, the soft breeze drifting through open spaces, and the elegance of their surroundings made it feel as if time had paused just for us. We settled in quickly, as if we had been there countless times before, which in many ways reflects the depth of our friendship. Though we have only known each other for about thirteen years, it feels like a lifetime, filled with shared experiences and meaningful moments.

Tom’s chicken sandwich.

Our conversations flowed effortlessly throughout the day. We found ourselves reminiscing about Marloth Park, that magical place where our friendship began on Christmas Eve in 2013, and truly deepened over the years, often through trials and tribulations. There is something about Marloth Park that leaves an imprint on the heart, and as we spoke of the wildlife and the camaraderie we shared there, it was as if we were transported back in time. Each story sparked another, and before long, we were weaving together memories from across continents and years of travel.

Kathy’s shrimp scampi.

At some point, we ventured out for lunch, taking a scenic drive that turned out to be just as memorable as the destination itself. The route offered stunning views of the island’s natural beauty. The vibrant greens, the dramatic coastline, and the ever-present ocean created a visual tapestry that felt almost unreal. We paused more than once to take photos, trying to capture even a fraction of what we were seeing, knowing full well that some experiences are better felt than photographed.

My chicken Caesar salad has the best dressing I’ve ever had.

Our destination was Buzz’s Steakhouse, a popular spot that was bustling with energy when we arrived. There was something wonderfully nostalgic about sitting outdoors, surrounded by the hum of happy diners and the gentle presence of the nearby water. It brought us back to earlier times in our lives, reminiscent of lakeside dining in Minnesota, where the view of the water somehow made every meal taste just a little bit better.

The four of us, outside Buzz’s Original Steakhouse in Kailua, Hawaii.

Lunch was delicious, but it was more than just the food. It was the atmosphere, the shared stories, and the simple joy of being together. There is a certain kind of enthusiasm that exists near the water, a lightness that seems to lift everyone’s spirits. We felt it there, just as we have in so many places over the years. It is a feeling that stays with you long after the meal is over.

A tourist parasailing.

After lunch, we returned to their home, continuing our conversations as if there had been no pause at all. The hours slipped by quietly, marked not by any schedule but by the natural rhythm of connection. We spoke of future plans, including our upcoming reunion in Marloth Park this September, where we will once again gather with many of the friends we have made along this incredible journey of life. The thought of being together again, in a place that holds so many cherished memories, filled us with anticipation.

The scenery was breathtaking as always in the Hawaiian Islands.

Before we knew it, the afternoon had turned into early evening. Around 5:30, it was time to make our way back to the ship. Saying goodbye is never easy, but there was comfort in knowing it was not a farewell, only a pause until the next chapter we will share together. As we left, we carried with us the warmth of the day, the laughter, and the quiet understanding that friendships like this are among life’s greatest treasures.

Beautiful!

Those seven hours felt both fleeting and expansive. In that time, we were reminded of how fortunate we are to have people like Kathy and Don in our lives. The day was not filled with grand events or elaborate plans, yet it was deeply satisfying in every way that matters. It was a day of connection, reflection, and gratitude, set against the beautiful backdrop of Hawaii.

As we returned to the ship, we found ourselves already replaying the moments in our minds, holding onto them in that gentle way we have learned through years of travel. These are the days that stay with us, long after the journey moves on.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 29, 2016:

Sunset out to sea on the same ship we are on now. For more photos, please click here.

Day 13…Transpacific Cruise…Out to sea…So far, so good…

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The interior of the casino, where many passengers hand over large sums of cash to the ship.

Cruise day #13 has arrived, and we find ourselves celebrating something that feels significant. We are still healthy. No scratchy throats, no lingering coughs, no unexpected fatigue that makes you wonder what might be coming next. On a ship filled with so many people sharing the same spaces, the same railings, the same air, it feels like a bit of a miracle, or at the very least, the result of a conscious effort.

From the very beginning of this journey, we decided to approach things differently than we have on past cruises. It was not rooted in fear, but rather in awareness. We have sailed enough to understand how easily illness can make its way through a ship,  passing from one person to another. This time, we wanted to be more mindful, more deliberate in the choices we made each day.

The Royal Promenade is a lovely “street” aboard the ship where many activities transpire.

One of the most noticeable changes has been our avoidance of the buffet in the Windjammer Cafe. On past cruises, it often felt like the heart of casual daytime dining, bustling with activity and filled with endless options. This time, however, we have chosen to step away from that environment. The only exception was on the very first day, when we shared a brief meal there with dear friends Lea Ann and Chuck. It felt special to sit together at the start of the voyage, catching up and settling into the days ahead. Since then, we have not returned.

It also helps that we are eating just one meal a day, with a few small bites in the Crown Lounge around 4:30 in anticipation of our first adult beverage. It keeps us from drinking on an empty stomach, helps us avoid extra weight gain, and gives us another reason to stay away from the buffet.

The art gallery where many passengers purchase art to have shipped to their homes.

Tom believes that it is the accumulation of small decisions that has made the difference. The things we touch, or more importantly, the things we choose not to touch. Handrails, serving utensils, elevator buttons. Each interaction carries a certain level of risk, and while it is impossible to avoid everything, being aware of these moments has changed how we move through the ship. It is not about being overly cautious, but about being thoughtful.

Perhaps one of the most impactful steps we have taken has been with our cabin. Early on, we made a simple request to our cabin steward, Pende. We asked that he wear clean gloves each time he enters our cabin. It felt like a small and reasonable measure, one that could help limit the possibility of germs being transferred from one cabin to another. Pende has been gracious and accommodating, always greeting us with a smile and honoring our request without hesitation. That consistency has brought a quiet sense of reassurance each time we return to our cabin.

There is also something we have noticed that feels different from our previous long voyage just months ago. On that 47-night cruise, coughing and sneezing seemed to echo through hallways and dining rooms, a constant reminder of how quickly things can spread in close quarters. This time, those sounds are far less frequent. It creates a subtle but meaningful shift in the atmosphere, one that makes the ship feel just a little lighter, a little more at ease.

The Solera ship, where I purchased my favorite perfume yesterday, using remaining cabin credit.

Of course, we know that there is always an element of chance involved. No amount of precaution can guarantee complete protection. Still, there is comfort in knowing that we have done what we can. Each careful choice, each mindful habit, feels like an investment in our well-being.

As we look ahead to the remaining twelve days of this transpacific journey, we carry both gratitude and intention with us. Gratitude for the good health we continue to enjoy, and intention to remain diligent in the days to come. It is a balance we hope to maintain, allowing us to fully appreciate this experience while still honoring the lessons we have learned along the way.

In just two days, we will disembark the cruise at the port of call in Oahu, Hawaii, with full hearts and hopeful anticipation of seeing our dear friends Kathy and Don. We agreed early on that if we felt unwell, we would cancel. Thankfully, we are still healthy, and that long-awaited visit is within reach.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 26, 2016:

No sooner than we stepped off the shuttle bus in Darwin, we spotted a local zoo staff member promoting the venue to the ship’s passengers while holding a baby crocodile. Its mouth is wrapped in a rubber band, as shown. For more photos, please click here.

Day 10…Transpacific Cruise…Out to sea…Making new friends and seeing old friends while sailing…

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Our dear friends, Kathy and Don, host a tremendous number of guests in their Marloth Park home and always do so with aplomb and ease. We will see them at their home on Oahu, Hawaii, in five days, and then head out to lunch. We will spend time with them again in Marloth Park in the coming months.

We are so fortunate to meet so many wonderful people as we travel the world. There’s something about life at sea that seems to fast-track connection in a way that rarely happens on land. Perhaps it’s the shared sense of adventure, or the gentle rhythm of the ocean that softens barriers and invites conversation. Whatever the reason, friendships here seem to bloom almost effortlessly, nurtured by proximity, time, and a mutual openness to the experience.

Even more so, in the intimate surroundings of a ship, our friendship-building seems to take on an accelerated pace. It doesn’t take weeks or months to feel a sense of familiarity with someone—it can happen over the course of a single evening, a shared laugh, or a meaningful exchange over a cocktail. The ship, in many ways, becomes its own little world, where routines form quickly, and faces become familiar almost overnight.

We’ve found ourselves settling into a comforting ritual each evening at the R Bar, which we visit both before and after dinner in the main dining room. It’s become our social hub, a place where conversations flow as easily as the drinks, and where we reconnect with those we’ve met along the way. For us, socialization holds far more appeal than attending shows or scheduled entertainment. While those offerings are certainly plentiful and well-produced, we find deeper joy in the spontaneity of human connection, the stories, the laughter, and the shared moments that can’t be scripted.

Lately, we’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Cynthia and Charlie. What started as a casual conversation has quickly grown into something more meaningful, and now we find ourselves discussing plans together. There’s even talk of them visiting us in South Africa, which feels both surreal and wonderful. It’s amazing how quickly people can go from strangers to potential houseguests, bound by a shared experience at sea. Once we’re able to post photos again, I look forward to sharing a glimpse of these special moments and the faces behind them.

Peter and Di will visit us in Marloth Park in August! As mentioned in a prior post, Salli visited us in Penguin about a month ago.

Of course, it’s been especially meaningful to spend time with dear friends Lea Ann and Chuck, who happen to be on this cruise as well. We first met them back in April 2017 on another sailing, and somehow, over the years, we’ve managed to stay in close touch despite the miles and the passing of time. Reuniting onboard feels like picking up right where we left off, as if no time has passed at all. There’s something deeply comforting about those kinds of friendships…the ones that endure, no matter where life takes you.

Last night, brought another lovely reunion when we spent time with Pauline and Cameron, whom we’d only just shared lunch in Penguin, Tasmania, a month ago. Knowing they would be on this ship made the anticipation all the more special. It felt easy and familiar to reconnect, as if no time had passed at all, reminding us once again how small and wonderfully connected this traveling world can be.

Our new friends Pauline and Cameron, whom we met in Penguin, are now on the cruise.

When we pause to think about how many friendships we’ve formed through our travels, particularly while cruising, we can’t help but smile with gratitude and appreciation. Many of these connections have extended far beyond the voyage itself, evolving into lasting relationships that enrich our lives in unexpected ways. It’s a reminder that while destinations are wonderful, it’s often the people we meet along the way who leave the most lasting impression.

Thank goodness, and I truly hope I’m not speaking too soon, we’ve managed to stay healthy so far. We haven’t noticed much coughing or sneezing among passengers, which is always a reassuring sign, especially in such close quarters. Still, we remain cautiously optimistic, aware that it’s still early in the journey. We’ve made a conscious effort to maintain heightened sanitation practices, washing hands frequently, and being mindful of what we touch. It may seem excessive to some, but for us, it’s a small price to pay for peace of mind.

This diligence feels especially important as we look ahead to our upcoming stop in Oahu, where we plan to have lunch with dear friends Kathy and Don on the 28th. The thought of seeing them again adds another layer of excitement to the journey, and we’re doing everything we can to ensure we arrive feeling our best.

Our dear friends, Rita and Gerhard, with whom we met up in many parts of the world over the years, whom we most recently saw in Bali. We will be with them in Vancouver, Washington, for four days at the end of this cruise.

Then, of course, at the end of this cruise, we’ll spend four days with our dear friends in Vancouver, Washington, Rita and Gerhard, with whom we have shared many exceptional travel experiences over the years.

In that same spirit, we made a decision early on to avoid the buffet for most of the cruise. Aside from visiting it on the first day after boarding, we’ve chosen to steer clear for the remaining 15 days. While the variety and convenience are tempting, we feel more comfortable opting for alternatives that involve less shared contact. It’s just one of those small adjustments that helps us feel more in control of our well-being.

As the days pass and the ocean stretches endlessly before us, we find ourselves settling more deeply into this unique pace of life at sea, one filled with connection, gratitude, and a special awareness of how fortunate we are to be here, surrounded by both new friends and old.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 23, 2016:

Last night’s sunset from yet another cruise ship on our way to Darwin, Australia. For more photos, please click here.

Day 8…Transpacific Cruise…Port of call: Papeete, Tahiti, Society Islands…

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Cascades de Faarumai in Papeete, Tahiti, Society Islands.    

Note: Today’s photos of Papeete, Tahiti, are from our previous visits. The poor WiFi connection aboard this ship has prevented us from posting new photos; we can only post those from past visits that are already in the system.

Footbridge in a local park.

Today, our ship gently eased into the familiar harbor of Papeete, the bustling heart of Tahiti in the Society Islands. There’s something comforting about returning to a place you’ve already explored. The first time feels like a discovery. The second is a deeper understanding. By the fourth visit, like today, it becomes more of a reunion than an adventure.

We’ve walked these streets before, browsed the markets, taken in the views, and felt the warm island air settle into our bones. And so, instead of rushing off the ship, we find ourselves content to reflect. Sometimes, the greatest luxury in travel is knowing you don’t have to do anything at all.

Pebble foot path in a park.

Still, Tahiti remains a remarkable place, whether we choose to explore it again or admire it from afar. For those arriving here for the first time, these may be the top ten features that make this island so memorable.

First, there’s the vibrant waterfront of Papeete itself. The promenade, lined with palm trees and food trucks, comes alive when passengers and tourists visit. It’s casual, lively, and full of local flavor.

Papeete has many scenic areas to explore.

Second, the public market, often called Le Marché. Even after previous visits, it’s hard to forget the colorful displays of tropical fruit, handmade crafts, vanilla beans, and fragrant oils. It’s a feast for the senses.

Third, the black sand beaches. Unlike the white sands many expect in the South Pacific, Tahiti’s volcanic origins create dramatic, dark shores that are striking in their own unique way.

Cruise til Papeete, Tahiti | Royal Caribbean Cruises
Not our photo. Black sand beach in Papeete.

Fourth, the lush interior of the island. Towering green mountains, hidden waterfalls, and winding roads make the landscape feel almost untouched. It’s a reminder that Tahiti is far more than just a coastal destination.

Fifth, the waterfalls themselves. Places like Faarumai Falls cascade down moss-covered cliffs, offering a serene and almost mystical experience.

Beautiful entrance to a tunnel on our tour.

Sixth, the lagoons. The water here is every shade of blue imaginable, calm and inviting, perfect for snorkeling or simply drifting without a care.

Seventh, the local culture. Polynesian traditions are alive and well, from dance to music to storytelling. There’s a deep sense of heritage that you can feel even in brief encounters.

Lush, jungle greenery.

Eighth, the food. Fresh fish, tropical fruits, and French-inspired cuisine blend in a way that feels both exotic and familiar. A simple meal here often becomes a lasting memory.

Ninth, the pace of life. Everything seems to slow down in Tahiti. Time stretches, priorities shift, and the urgency of everyday life fades into the background.

And finally, the warmth of the people. There’s a genuine friendliness here that lingers long after you leave, a kindness that doesn’t feel forced or transactional.

Notice the plants inside the painted old tires. We noticed these in several spots along the highway in Tahiti.

As for us, we’re perfectly content staying on board today. We’ve seen these sights, walked these paths, and tucked those memories safely into our collection of stories. There’s something peaceful about watching others head off to explore while we sip our coffee and gaze out at the island we’ve come to know.

Travel isn’t always about doing more. Sometimes, it’s about appreciating what you’ve already done and allowing yourself to enjoy the memories. And today, in beautiful Tahiti, that feels like more than enough.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 21, 2016:

Tom’s cruise ship dinner was tender steak, broccoli, and fried potatoes. In addition, he ordered a starter and a dessert. For more photos, please click here.

Day 6…Transpacific Cruise…How, who and when was the International Date Line decided?…

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Our current balcony cabin layout aboard Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas.

Somewhere out here on this vast stretch of ocean, where the horizon feels endless and time itself seems to blur into sunrises and sunsets, it’s almost poetic to think that an invisible line divides one day from the next. The International Date Line isn’t something you can see or touch. There’s no buoy floating in the water, no flashing beacon to signal its presence. And yet, it mysteriously holds the power to give you back a day or take one away.

The idea of such a line didn’t emerge overnight. It grew out of necessity, shaped by centuries of exploration, trade, and the simple human need to make sense of time as we moved across the globe. In the early days of long sea voyages, sailors began to notice something peculiar. As they traveled westward, days seemed to stretch. Traveling eastward, they seemed to shrink. Without a standardized system, calendars became inconsistent, and confusion followed travelers from port to port.

The turning point came in the 19th century, during a period when the world was becoming more connected than ever before. Railroads were expanding, telegraph lines were shrinking communication times, and international trade was booming. Suddenly, the lack of a unified timekeeping system wasn’t just inconvenient. It was a real problem.

In 1884, representatives from 25 nations gathered in Washington, D.C., for what became known as the International Meridian Conference. Their goal was to establish a common reference point for time and longitude. After much discussion, they agreed that the prime meridian, or zero degrees longitude, would pass through Greenwich, England. This decision laid the foundation for the system of time zones we still use today.

But what about the other side of the world? If Greenwich marked the starting point, there had to be a place where the calendar would reset, where one day would officially become the next. That’s where the concept of the International Date Line came into play.

We met our new friends aboard this cruise ship in October 2025. Front: Peter and Di, who will visit us in South Africa, and Salli, who visited us in Penguin, Tasmania, weeks ago. How fortunate we are to make good friends as we travel the world.

Unlike the prime meridian, the Date Line wasn’t formally established by a single treaty or exact legal definition. Instead, it evolved as a practical solution. It generally follows the 180th meridian, roughly halfway around the world from Greenwich. However, it doesn’t run straight. It zigzags to accommodate political boundaries and island nations, ensuring that entire countries remain on the same calendar day.

Imagine the chaos if a single island nation were split into two different days. Life, as we know it, would feel disjointed and confusing. So the line bends and curves, respecting geography and human life more than strict mathematical precision.

What fascinates me most is how something so abstract can feel so real when you experience it. Crossing the International Date Line isn’t just a technicality. It’s a moment. One day, you go to bed, and the next morning, you wake up and realize you’ve either skipped a day entirely or lived the same date twice.

It’s a reminder of how we, as humans, have tried to impose order on something as fluid and intangible as time. Out here at sea, where the days gently roll into one another, and the clocks feel almost secondary to the movement of the sun, the idea of a line deciding what day it is feels both strange and strangely comforting.

Because in the end, the International Date Line isn’t just about calendars and clocks. It’s about connection. It’s about a shared agreement across the world that helps us stay in sync, even as we wander far from home, crossing oceans and, every now and then, stepping quietly from one day into another.

Thus, yesterday and the day before were both Saturday, April 18, a curious gift of time that felt both unusual and oddly delightful. Overnight, as we crossed the International Date Line on the first Saturday, everything shifted without fanfare. This morning, we woke to find ourselves realigned with the rest of the world. Now, we share the same date as the United States and other countries in the Western Hemisphere, April 19. It feels as though we’ve rejoined a familiar timeline, stepping back into sync after briefly wandering just outside of it, carried forward across the ocean by nothing more than distance and time.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 19, 2016:

A wall hanging in the casino. For more photos, please click here.

Day 5, Transpacific cruise…We are out to sea!…What are we doing about photos?…

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An MG on display in the Promenade Cafe on Deck 5.

Update on posting photos…

Since we are out here, surrounded by nothing but endless ocean for most of these 25 nights, I’ve had to make peace with a small but surprisingly frustrating reality. I cannot upload new photos to WordPress. At first, I resisted that truth, trying again and again, convinced that maybe this time the connection would cooperate. But eventually, after enough spinning wheels and failed uploads, I let go of the expectation and shifted my thinking.

Instead, I’ve decided to reach back just a few months, to the last time we were on this very same ship, about four and a half months ago. It feels almost poetic, in a way, to revisit those moments as we create new ones in the same setting. We took so many photos back then, far more than we ever shared, and now they feel like little hidden treasures waiting for their turn. As I scroll through them, I’m reminded of how quickly time folds in on itself. What feels recent is already part of the past, yet still vivid and full of life.

Of course, this is only a temporary solution. There is a sense of anticipation for those upcoming ports of call, where stronger WiFi signals promise a return to the present moment. When we finally dock, I imagine sitting somewhere with a decent connection, perhaps even using our T-Mobile plan if necessary, and finally being able to upload fresh photos that match the stories as they unfold. Until then, this patchwork approach will have to do.

Complimentary treats in the Promenade Cafe. We do not partake.

Yesterday, in a moment of lingering hope, I spoke with the onboard tech guy. I approached the conversation thinking maybe there was some trick, some hidden setting, or workaround that I hadn’t discovered yet. But as it turns out, his role is far more limited than I had imagined. He helps with basic connection issues, getting people online, resetting devices, that sort of thing. Bandwidth limitations are an entirely different story, and anything related to WordPress or uploading content falls well outside his scope. It was one of those conversations that starts with optimism and ends with a polite but definitive dead end.

It’s funny how something like this can become such a focal point of the day. Out here, where life is both simple and abundant, filled with conversations, meals, and the gentle sway of the ship, it’s this small inability to share photos that lingers in the background. It reminds me how much of our routine has become intertwined with staying connected, not just for ourselves, but for all of you who follow along.

One of our readers kindly mentioned that a friend on this same ship was able to post photos on Facebook. I appreciated the suggestion, truly. It’s comforting to know that others are finding ways to share their experiences in real time. But for us, Facebook has never been our storytelling platform. It’s more of a private corner where we keep in touch with family and a few close friends, a place for connection rather than narration.

Surprisingly, this time security didn’t confiscate our huge kitchen knife, but they did hold on to all of our power strips. Go figure, which we’ll collect on the last day of this cruise.

So, we return to what works for us. We write, we reflect, and for now, we pair these words with photos from a recent past that still feels very much alive. Something is grounding in accepting the limitations of where we are while still finding a way forward. The ocean stretches endlessly in every direction, and in its own way, it reminds me that not everything has to happen instantly. Some things can wait until the next port, the next signal, the next opportunity.

And when that moment comes, when the connection is finally strong enough, and the uploads go through without a struggle, I suspect it will feel like a small but meaningful victory. Until then, we carry on, making memories, sharing what we can, and trusting that the rest will fall into place when the time is right.

So, in the interim, we are thoroughly enjoying every single moment of this cruise, embracing it for what it is rather than what it isn’t. It’s funny how quickly a small frustration, like unreliable WiFi, fades into the background when the bigger picture comes into focus. The gentle sway of the ship, the endless horizon, and the easy pace of conversation and connection with others on board all seem to take precedence.

An elephant towel origami.

Our top priority right now is simple and unwavering: stay healthy. Nothing matters more to us on this journey. We’ve both been on enough trips to know how quickly things can change if one of us comes down with a cold or something more persistent. So we remain mindful, observant of those around us, and grateful each day that we continue to feel well. So far, so good, and we don’t take that for granted for a single moment.

There’s a certain awareness that settles in when you’re in close quarters with so many people for an extended period. Every shared space, every conversation, every meal carries with it a subtle balance between enjoyment and caution. But instead of letting that create worry, it simply makes us more appreciative. Appreciative of feeling good, of having the energy to engage, to laugh, to linger a little longer in those lively evening conversations that seem to stretch effortlessly into the night.

In many ways, this time at sea feels like a pause from the outside world, a chance to be fully present without the usual distractions. Even the limitations, like not being able to post photos in real time, have gently nudged us toward a deeper experience. We are here, fully immersed, collecting moments rather than rushing to share them.

And so, we carry on, grateful, cautious, and completely engaged in this unique chapter of the journey, trusting that as long as we continue to feel well, everything else will fall into place just as it should.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 18, 2016:

Luna Park in Sydney, Australia, during the daylight. For more photos, please click here.

Day 4, Transpacific cruise…We are out to sea!…Still no photos…

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Sorry, still no chance of uploading photos with the weak WiFi bandwidth on this cruise. At this point, I’ve all but surrendered to the idea that it simply isn’t going to happen on this transpacific cruise. I tried a few more times, holding onto that small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, the connection would cooperate long enough to let a few images slip through. No such luck. It’s funny how something so simple can become such a persistent little frustration. But then again, when we step back and look around at everything else unfolding around us, we can’t let it hamper the quality of this experience.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 17, 2016:

No photos were posted on this date.

Day 3, Transpacific cruise…We are out to sea!…Still no photos…

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So sorry, once again, that we are still unable to post photos. It feels strange to be sharing our days without the visual pieces that usually bring these moments to life, but for now, words will have to carry the story. And as it turns out, there is something meaningful about that.

We are thoroughly enjoying this cruise, perhaps even more so because it has become such a social experience, as always. At every turn, there is someone to chat with, a familiar face from a previous sailing, or a new acquaintance who quickly feels like an old friend. It is one of those environments where conversations begin easily and linger longer than expected, often stretching into the next activity or meal without a second thought.

Of course, with all this socializing comes one of the biggest challenges of cruising, the food. Before we boarded, I had lost 25 pounds over the past five months, and I will admit I had some quiet concerns about how I would manage once surrounded by endless options and constant temptation. It is one thing to stay disciplined at home, and quite another when every corner offers something delicious, beautifully presented, and readily available.

I have been doing my best to stick with my way of eating, but it is not always easy. At our two recent holiday homes, I had settled into OMAD, one meal a day, which worked wonderfully for me. It simplified everything and helped me stay focused. But here, on the ship, that approach simply does not fit. Meals are not just about nourishment; they are part of the experience, a time to gather, to laugh, and to connect. Skipping them would mean missing out on so much of what makes this journey special.

So, I have adapted. We have found a balance that feels both realistic and sustainable. We skip breakfast entirely and enjoy lunch and dinner, making those meals count without turning them into an all-day grazing event. We both avoid snacking, which is no small feat given the constant availability of treats, and I pay attention to portions, even when everything looks tempting.

One small but surprisingly powerful tool we brought along is our bathroom scale. It may sound a bit excessive to some, but for me, it provides a sense of accountability. Each morning, I step on it, not with dread, but with curiosity and awareness. It helps me stay grounded and mindful of the choices I am making. So far, it has been reassuring, and that alone makes it worthwhile.

I feel so much better after losing the weight, lighter not just physically, but in energy and outlook as well. It is not something I want to lose sight of, even as I fully embrace this experience. There is a way to enjoy it all without undoing the progress, and I am determined to find that balance.

The dining room chef has been absolutely wonderful. Each evening, he makes a point to check in with me to ensure I am happy with my meals. That level of care and attention does not go unnoticed, and it makes this whole process feel supported rather than restrictive. It is those thoughtful touches that make such a difference.

Between meals, we are far from sedentary. Our cabin is quite a distance away on Deck 10, and we walk a lot. What might seem inconvenient at first has turned into a blessing in disguise, as we easily get in plenty of steps throughout the day without even trying.

Today, I am returning to my regular exercise routine while Tom takes a nap. Getting back into that familiar pattern feels good, like reconnecting with a part of myself that keeps everything else in balance.

As for photos, they will have to wait for now. Being at sea most days, and having taken countless ship photos over the years, I find I am less inclined to capture the same scenes again. Once we are back on land, that will change, and we will do everything we can to upload and share those moments.

Until then, we will continue to savor these days, one conversation, one meal, and one step at a time.

Be well,

Photo from ten years ago today, April 16, 2016:

The aft of Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas. Soon, we’ll be boarding this ship for a 14-day cruise. For more photos, please click here.

Day 2, Transpacific cruise…We are out to sea!…

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After boarding, we had one of those unexpected moments that make this lifestyle feel even more meaningful. We made our way toward the Windjammer Cafe for a quick bite, planning to take lots of sanitation precautions, not expecting anything more than a casual lunch to settle into the day. But as we stepped toward the buffet, we spotted our dear friends, Lea Ann and Chuck, smiling and waving as if no time had passed at all. They knew we’d all be in this cruise a year ago, but never let us know when they wanted to surprise us.

We first met them on a cruise back in 2017, one of those chance encounters that somehow turned into something lasting. The last time we saw them was in 2023 when we were staying in The Villages, Florida. They had come to visit us just before we set off on yet another cruise. And now, here we were again, reunited on a ship in the middle of a new adventure. It felt easy, familiar, and joyful all at once. We sat together, talking and laughing as though we had seen each other just weeks ago instead of years.

I had every intention of posting a photo of the four of us, capturing that moment of reconnection. But much to our disappointment, uploading photos has proven impossible so far. At least for the next 24 nights of this Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas, Transpacific cruise, it appears we are at the mercy of limited bandwidth. With a fully booked ship and thousands of passengers trying to stay connected, the system simply cannot keep up. I tried everything I could think of, different times of day, smaller file sizes, even a bit of patience mixed with persistence. Nothing worked.

So instead, I will save every photo into a folder. Knowing that the photos will be saved, waiting to be uploaded gives me peace of mind. When we finally have a stronger signal, either in port or once we are off the ship, I will put together a proper photo page to share all of these moments. For now, the memories will have to live in words.

As for yesterday’s embarkation day, it could not have been easier. From the moment we arrived at the cruise terminal in Brisbane to the moment we stepped onboard, no more than thirty minutes had passed. Everything had been completed online in advance, so it was simply a matter of verification. Passports checked, documents confirmed, and we moved steadily through each queue without delay. It felt organized, efficient, and surprisingly calm.

Our bags, however, took their time finding us. They did not arrive in our cabin until later in the evening, around five. By then, we had already gone out and enjoyed a delightful dinner in the main dining room. When we returned, neither of us had the energy to start unpacking. Thankfully, I had thought ahead and packed a few essentials into the duffel bag, enough to get us through the night and into the next morning without having to dig through everything.

We woke early today, both of us still a little tired. Tom started unpacking first, methodically getting things in place, and I followed once he was finished. There is something about settling into a cabin that makes it feel more like home, even if only temporarily.

Now, as I sit here at the Promenade Cafe with a few cups of coffee behind me, I find myself reflecting on how quickly it all began. It is 11:30 am now, and already it feels like we have lived through a full day. I tried once again to upload a few sailaway photos, hoping maybe the connection had improved. Still no luck.

It is disappointing, yes, but also a reminder of life at sea. Even now, in a world where we expect instant connection, there are still moments when we have to wait. We have to let go of immediacy and simply be present.

Neither of us slept particularly well last night, despite losing only an hour with the time change. The last time I remember checking the clock, it was 12:30 in the morning, just before everything shifted forward. A nap is sounding more and more appealing as the day goes on. After a light lunch in the dining room, we may just give in to that idea.

And somehow, that feels just right.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 15, 2016:

No post was published on this date due to a travel day, and I doubt I would have been able to upload a photo anyway.

Itinerary for our upcoming transpacific cruise…Sailing on April 14…Leaving Penguin in three days…

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In three days, we will begin the familiar ritual of packing up our temporary life and moving on, this time for the four-hour drive to Hobart. There is always something positive about these transitions. No matter how many times we do this, there is a moment when I look around and realize that this place, which only recently felt familiar after a ten-year hiatus, has become so comfortable.

Our plan is simple, and that is exactly how we like it. We will drive to Hobart and spend one night at the Mantra Hotel Airport, a practical choice that removes any unnecessary stress from travel day. Once we arrive and are settled into our room with our luggage, Tom will head back out to return the rental car at the airport. I always feel a sense of relief when that task is completed. It marks the official shift from land travel to air travel, from driving ourselves to being carried along by schedules and departure gates.

While he is gone, I will set up our chargers and electrical needs. There is something comforting about a hotel room before the next leg of a journey begins. It is a pause, a small pocket of stillness before movement resumes. When Tom returns, and we unwind a little, we will head down to the dining room for dinner. Nothing elaborate, nothing rushed, just a simple meal that allows us to unwind from the drive and ease into the next phase.

We have learned over time not to unpack for a single night. Instead, we keep everything organized in our carry-on bags with just the essentials within reach. Fresh underwear, a few toiletries, and whatever we might need for the next morning are all easily accessible. It may seem like a small detail, but it makes the morning feel smoother, almost effortless. These little habits, developed over years of travel, create a sense of calm that we have come to depend on.

The following morning, the hotel shuttle will take us and our luggage to the airport. There is something reassuring about not having to think too much on departure day. No navigating unfamiliar roads, no worrying about parking, just stepping onto a shuttle and allowing someone else to handle the logistics.

Our flight to Brisbane departs at 1:10 in the afternoon, which gives us a relaxed start to the day. We will not bother with breakfast at the hotel. Once we arrive in Brisbane, we will take an Uber to the Brisbane Pullman, conveniently located near the airport. I always enjoy that first glimpse of a hotel that is clearly hosting fellow cruisers. There is a shared sense of anticipation in the air, an unspoken understanding among strangers that we are all about to embark on something special.

That evening, we will dine at the Apron Restaurant, which we read is quite popular. for which we made a reservation. I imagine the dining room will be filled with travelers like us, some excited, some tired, all standing on the edge of their next adventure.

Our boarding time on April 14 is scheduled for 11:30 am, with sailing at 4:30 pm, allowing for a leisurely, low-stress start. We will take another Uber to the port, keeping things simple. There is no need to complicate what can be easy.

We will skip breakfast once again and wait until we are on board for a small bite, followed by dinner in the main dining room around 7:00 or 7:30 pm. It’s a routine that feels familiar now, almost comforting in its predictability.

As always, it is not just about getting from one place to another. It is about the quiet moments in between, the small decisions that make travel feel manageable, and the shared understanding that this life we have chosen continues to unfold one simple step at a time.

“The Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas departs on April 14, 2026, for a 25-night Transpacific cruise from Brisbane, Australia, to Seattle, Washington. Highlights include stops in Papeete (Tahiti), Moorea, Hawaii (Honolulu & Kailua Kona), and Victoria, B.C., featuring multiple days at sea for a transpacific crossing.

Royal CaribbeanRoyal Caribbean 
Itinerary Details (April 14 – May 8, 2026):
  • April 14: Brisbane, Australia (Depart 4:30 pm)
  • April 15-20: At Sea
  • April 21: Papeete, Tahiti (7:00 am – 11:59 pm)
  • April 22: Moorea, French Polynesia (7:00 am – 8:00 pm)
  • April 23-27: At Sea
  • April 28-29: Honolulu (Oahu), Hawaii (Our dear friends Kathy and Don, who live in Oahu, will pick us up at the port, and we’ll have lunch and spend the afternoon with them).
  • April 30: Na Pali Coast, Kauai, Hawaii (Cruising)
  • May 1: Kailua Kona, Hawaii
  • May 2-6: At Sea
  • May 7: Victoria, British Columbia
  • May 8: Seattle, Washington (Arrive 6:00 am)”

Hopefully, with all of our precautions in place, we will sail through this journey feeling healthy and strong. After the last experience, we are far more mindful, paying attention to the small habits that can make a big difference. Still, there is comfort in knowing that if illness finds its way to us again, we are prepared. With prescription medications and a well-stocked supply of over-the-counter remedies, we feel ready for whatever may come. It is not about expecting the worst, but rather about creating a sense of reassurance as we step forward into yet another adventure.

Tonight, we are heading out for one last dinner in Penguin at Neptune Grand Bistro, a fitting way to close out our time here. There is something bittersweet about a final meal in a place that has felt like home, even for a short while. From this point on, we will rely on what we already have on hand, with enough food tucked away to carry us through until Sunday, when we depart. It feels good to keep things simple now, easing into the transition while savoring these last familiar moments before the journey continues.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, April 9, 2016:

Colorful sunset over the farm in New Zealand. See the post from this date, ten years ago, when we posted our 666 days itinerary, found here.