
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:









































