Day 44…Out to sea…Christmas decor in the Windjammer Cafe…

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A cute Christmas Village is set up in the Windjammer Cafe.

As this 47-night cruise winds down and Saturday creeps closer, I find myself caught between two familiar worlds, the floating, ever-moving pace of ship life and the grounded comfort of ordinary days back on land. Tom, of course, could stay on a ship much longer, lulled by the promise of the next port, the next shared dinner table, the next story from a fellow wanderer. For me, the thrill of cruising has always been there, just a little quieter than his, humming beneath the surface rather than bubbling over. And now, as we approach the end of this voyage, my excitement is aimed squarely at the moment we step off the ship and settle into everyday life in Kaiwaka, New Zealand.

Oddly enough, it’s the most mundane things I’m craving: grocery shopping, cooking meals exactly the way we like them, and yes, even doing laundry. I’m yearning to fill a shopping cart with vegetables that haven’t sat in a ship’s refrigerator for a month, to choose my own spices instead of relying on chefs who think the word “seasoning” is interchangeable with “grease.” I’m picturing the tiny local markets in New Zealand, the focus on sustainability, and the beautiful meat, dairy, and produce.

And laundry, whoever thought laundry would feel exciting? But here I am, daydreaming about rewashing every single item that has gone through the ship’s wash-and-fold service, doused in whatever cheap detergent they buy in bulk. I can almost smell the clean, gentle fragrance of environmentally friendly, hypoallergenic soap, the kind that’s easy to find in eco-focused New Zealand. There’s something grounding about reclaiming the small routines of life, especially after such a long stretch of schedules designed by someone else, meals cooked by someone else, and detergents chosen by, well, certainly not me.

This isn’t to say the cruise hasn’t been wonderful. Far from it. It’s been a journey stitched together with the familiar warmth of old friends and the unexpected joy of new ones. Seeing Louise and Danie in Cape Town felt like picking up a conversation that never truly paused. Visiting Rita and Gerhard in Bali, especially after her long recovery from her foot injury, brought a swell of gratitude, as if life was reminding us that friendships endure across continents, ailments, and time. Onboard, we found comfort in familiar faces too: Ulla’s bright smile, Michelle’s easy laugh, Sheryl’s steady presence. And then there were the countless new friends, Diana and Peter with their gentle humor, Salli and Barbara whose stories filled so many evenings, and others whose names we may forget eventually, but whose kindness will follow us long after.

As for the ports of call, most were familiar from past cruises, with little déjà vu moments scattered along the route. But we still managed to step off the ship in several new locations, though my knee injury during the first week slowed us down more than I’d anticipated. It was frustrating at first, seeing the excursions listed, the places we weren’t going—but in time, I settled into a rhythm of doing what I could. I learned to appreciate the walks I could take around the ship, even after we moved to the more distant cabin. Perhaps the extra steps were an accidental blessing, a bit of physical therapy woven into each day.

One of the highlights, as always, was the shared dinners in the Main Dining Room. Night after night, we sat at large tables with travelers from every corner of the world, swapping stories, comparing notes on the itinerary, laughing over the quirks of cruise life. In these last weeks, we even started having the occasional lunch in the dining room, stretching out the social time a little more. There’s something comforting about a table full of new and old friends, sharing a meal as the ocean hums outside.

Still, as lovely as it has all been, I’m ready. Ready for the solidity of land under my feet. Ready for quiet mornings in Kaiwaka, for home-cooked meals, for laundry that smells like sunshine and eucalyptus instead of industrial soap. Ready to return to the life we’ve built, one ordinary day at a time.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 9, 2015:

A resort in Pacific Harbour, Fiji, is undergoing renovations. This cute pool feature will certainly be fun for kids. For more photos, please click here.

Day 28…Today is the beginning of seven sea days as we make our way to Singapore…Meeting many of our readers…

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Today, I wandered through the Coach (handbags) store for a few photos, as shown.

Today marks the beginning of seven uninterrupted sea days as we make our way across the Indian Ocean toward Singapore, a stretch of time many passengers groan about, but for us, it feels like a gift. There’s a rhythm to sea days that always suits us, a gentle lull between ports that offers space to breathe, reflect, and settle into whatever pace our bodies and minds can manage. And right now, with my knee still healing from that unfortunate fall almost two weeks ago, these slower, quieter days feel perfectly timed.

When I woke up this morning, the ship was already swaying ever so slightly, that familiar cradle-like motion that reminds me we’re suspended between continents, travelers in transit with nowhere we need to be. I felt that tiny twinge in my knee when I stood, the kind that has become my daily reminder to take things slowly. But I also noticed something else, just a bit less stiffness, a bit more confidence in each step. It’s funny how healing rarely announces itself with fanfare. Instead, it arrives in small increments, almost shyly, as if checking whether we’re paying attention. And believe me, I am.

As expected, the products offered are expensive.

These sea days will give me the chance to keep easing along, letting my knee recover without the pressure of rushing off the ship or navigating uneven walkways in a bustling port. We’ve learned over the years that part of long-term travel is honoring our bodies exactly as they are. Some days, they can carry us off to explore wild landscapes and historic cities. Other days, they insist on rest, on tenderness, on adjusting the pace to something more forgiving. And that’s okay. After all, the journey isn’t only about where we go. It’s also about how we move through it.

We’ll likely spend our mornings in our usual spot in the Promenade Café, sipping the ship’s complimentary coffee while we tap away on our laptops. There’s a kind of simple comfort in that routine, the way familiar spaces become little anchors in a lifestyle filled with constant motion. I can already picture the steady hum of passengers passing by, the soft clatter of cups being gathered, and the low background music playing something easy and familiar. And even if I have to sit a little longer than usual or shift in my seat on the banquet against the wall to give my knee a break, it’s still one of my favorite parts of ship life.

I rarely purchase anything in the ship’s shops, unless we have unused cabin credit.

The afternoons will probably drift by the way they often do, with perhaps a trivia game in the Schooner Bar or other area, or a quiet hour resting with ice on my knee in the cabin. I’ve learned to let go of any guilt about “missing” activities or not doing as much as others might on a sea day. There’s something freeing about accepting that enjoyment doesn’t have to be measured by movement or activity. Sometimes the greatest pleasure is simply watching the ocean glide by like a sheet of blue silk, its surface catching the light in ways that shift with every passing hour.

I keep imagining what it will feel like to finally step off the ship in Singapore, hopefully with a knee that’s vastly improved by then. That small hope of steadier footing, of walking through the bustling port without wincing, keeps me encouraged. But I’m also content with these seven days stretched out before us like a soft landing. They’re a reminder that healing, whether physical or emotional, often happens in the quiet spaces, the unhurried moments when life permits us to slow down.

I already have two handbags and don’t have room in my luggage for another.

So we’ll take these sea days as they come, one sunrise, one gentle swell, one careful step at a time, trusting that by the time we reach Singapore, both my knee and my spirit will feel a little lighter. From there, the third leg of our 47-night sea journey will begin as we make our way to Brisbane, Australia.

Meeting passengers on the ship who tell us they’ve been reading our posts over the years is both surprising and undeniably uplifting. Even after all this time of sharing our daily musings, it still catches us off guard when someone approaches with a warm smile and says they feel as if they already know us. There’s an endearing sweetness in those moments, a gentle reminder that our words don’t just drift into the void but somehow land softly in the lives of others.

The displays in the shops are beautifully arranged and enticing.

Often, these encounters happen in the most unexpected places—waiting for an elevator, sipping coffee in the café, or shuffling into a trivia session. A casual hello quickly turns into a heartfelt exchange, where they share how they’ve followed our journey through ports, storms, triumphs, and mishaps. We listen, humbled, realizing that our little window into this nomadic life has quietly woven itself into someone else’s routine.

What touches us most is the genuine kindness behind their words. They aren’t praising or critiquing—they’re simply connecting, human to human, reminding us that even in this transient world of ever-changing passengers and ports, and tourists and towns, there are threads of familiarity. And in those unexpected threads, we feel appreciated and incredibly grateful.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, November 23, 2015:

It appears that breadfruit trees continue to produce fruit all year long. For more photos, please click here.

Day 25…Which shipboard activities are our favorites?…

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My view, while posting in the Promenade Café each morning.

Every day at sea seems to find its own pace, gently shaped by what my body will allow and what brings us the most joy. Over the years, we’ve learned to lean into the activities that make us feel connected, engaged, and a little more a part of shipboard life, even if we can’t participate in everything offered. On these long voyages, we often remind ourselves that it’s not about how many activities we can cram into a day, but rather about savoring the few we genuinely enjoy.

For us, trivia has become almost a treasured ritual, one that easily fits into the flow of our days. There’s something comforting about settling into the familiar surroundings of the Schooner Bar, a venue that seems purpose-built for friendly competition and lighthearted banter. Its nautical décor, soft lighting, and the unmistakable smell of polished wood make it feel like a cozy retreat from the bustle of the ship.

Sometimes, if the schedule changes, trivia is moved to the Star Lounge, which has an entirely different energy, brighter, livelier, and often packed with passengers eager to test their knowledge. Wherever it’s held, we show up with the same enthusiasm, not necessarily expecting to win but always ready to laugh at the obscure questions we somehow manage to get right and groan at the ones we miss by a mile. Over time, we’ve become familiar faces to the staff members who run the programs, and there’s a certain comfort in that tiny sense of belonging.

Of course, the daily activity schedules tempt us with countless other options. It’s easy to imagine a version of ourselves darting from event to event, trying it all. But the reality is that with my mobility issues, we’ve learned to pace ourselves and choose experiences that don’t push me to my limits. At first, I’ll admit, it was a challenge to accept these limitations. Yet somewhere along the way, we shifted our perspective. Instead of focusing on what we can’t do, we’ve started cherishing what we can. There’s a kind of quiet empowerment in curating our days around what works for me, rather than fighting against it. Tom is totally fine with my limitations and never complains.

Our mornings are perhaps the most consistent part of our routine. After a hopefully good night’s sleep, we make our way to the Promenade Café, laptops in tow, ready to ease into the day. This small ritual has become an anchor for us. There’s something so pleasant about sitting together at our little table (often at the same spot on the banquet, watching passengers pass by, some still half-asleep and reaching for their first cup of coffee, while others seem more energized, already chatting about their plans. We sip our complimentary tea or coffee and work side by side, the hum of conversation providing a gentle background soundtrack. Occasionally, the aroma of pastries or other snacks wafts by, but since we don’t eat more than twice a day, we resist the temptation.

Most days, our eating pattern stays predictable: either appetizers in the Crown Lounge around 4:30 pm, where the atmosphere feels relaxed and refined, or, if hunger strikes earlier, a quick bite at the Windjammer Café. The buffet is always bustling, with passengers filling their plates with everything imaginable. We tend to keep things simple, finding something meaty and keto. It’s not really about the food as much as maintaining a rhythm that keeps us feeling our best.

Of course, our favorite activity is conversing with other guests and hearing their travel adventures as we share ours. We meet a wide array of travelers. Last night, at dinner, in the main dining room, we had a fantastic time chatting with avid travelers well into their 80s, as an inspiration for us as we continue on.

In the end, our shipboard routine isn’t flashy or jam-packed, but it’s ours. We’ve shaped it with intention, listening to what feels right each day. And in that gentle, deliberate pacing, we’ve discovered that we can still feel deeply connected to life onboard, even if our days look a little different than they once did.

Be well.

Photos from ten years ago today, November 20, 2015:

Handmade fishing and transporting rafts in Urata, Fiji. For more photos, please click here.

Day 24…How much did we pay for WiFi for these three back-to-back-cruises?…Our cruise stats…

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Not our photo.

Finally, we have our confusing cruise bills figured out, including the daily WiFi charges:

  • Cruise # 1 US $572.68
  • Cruise #2 US $575.68
  • Cruise #3 US $383.68
  • Total US $1532.04

Total daily expense for WiFi: US $32.60

Since we are Diamond Plus (priority) members, these costs are about 20% less than they would have been for lower-tier categories, as follows:

  • Pinnacle Club – 700 points for 700 days of cruising
  • Diamond Plus – (our category) for 175 or more days of cruising
  • Diamond – for 80 days of cruising
  • Emerald – for 55 days of cruising
  • Platinum – for 30 days of cruising
  • Gold – for 3 days of cruising

Since we began cruising in 2013, less than a year after we left Minnesota, we have sailed on 32 cruises*, with several cruise lines, including the following:

  • Celebrity (not since 2023)
  • Carnival (not since 2013)
  • Norwegian (not since 2013)
  • Royal Caribbean (current)
  • Viking (not since 2016)
  • Ponant (not since 2018)
  • Azamara (not since 2023)

*We had booked other cruises that were canceled due to the war in Ukraine and the pandemic.

That’s it for today, folks.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, November 19, 2015:

Tom’s midday snack in Fiji included streaky bacon and Haloumi cheese slices sauteed in ghee. We rarely find Haloumi cheese in many countries, and were surprised to find it in Fiji. For more photos, please click here.

Day 22…Out to sea, heading to Reunion Island…Immigration Issues?…

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The Schooner Bar, where we often play trivia in the afternoons.

Yesterday afternoon unfolded in a way we hadn’t quite expected. Since we hadn’t disembarked in Port Elizabeth, we still had to meet South African immigration requirements, which meant making our way to the makeshift immigration setup in the deck 5 dining room. It was close to 3:00 pm when we wandered down the long hallway, joining the short but slow-moving queue of fellow passengers who were also there to have their passports stamped for exit from South Africa. We assumed it would be a quick in-and-out stop, the kind of errand that hardly registers as a blip in the rhythm of a sea day. But as we’ve learned repeatedly over the years of our travels, assumptions are often the very things that set the stage for unexpected twists.

The room felt strangely quiet for such an official task. Crew members guided passengers to a row of temporary desks where uniformed immigration officers sat, stacks of documents, laptops, and ink pads at their stations. The faint scent of paperwork, leather passport covers, and a hint of impatience replaced the dining room’s usual aroma of meals. We stepped forward when it was our turn, offering our passports with the kind of confidence that comes from having done this countless times before. But almost immediately, the officer handling my passport paused, flipping through the pages once, then again, more slowly this time. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a straight line…never a good sign.

View of the industrial port in the city of Port Elizabeth, South Africa. With the shuttles heading to a local shopping mall, we decided to stay on board.

She looked up at me with that practiced mixture of authority and mild annoyance that immigration officials around the world seem to perfect. “Where is your entry stamp?” she asked. I felt that familiar ripple of unease wash over me, the one that has accompanied every bureaucratic snag we’ve encountered during our travels. I assured her that we had entered South Africa in Cape Town just a few days ago and that the stamp should be there, tucked among the well-worn pages filled with years of border crossings. But she shook her head, still turning pages, still hunting for a stamp she insisted was missing.

There was a vast array of cars at the pier.

Time seems to stretch in these moments. You become acutely aware of everything: the shuffle of feet behind you, the officer marking other passengers’ documents, the hum of conversation growing as people begin comparing their own passport oddities. I felt a blend of frustration and worry rise in my chest. Even after all our travels, it’s never pleasant to be held up by an official, especially for something as seemingly straightforward as a missing stamp.

The officer motioned for us to wait while she communicated with a fellow officer who also flipped through the pages of my passport. We waited, trying to calm that small but persistent voice inside that always imagines the worst-case scenario. Had the stamp truly been omitted? Would this lead to some drawn-out process we’d be stuck navigating long after everyone else had returned to their holiday routines?

The fellow officer took my passport with far more confidence, flipping through the pages like someone who had done this thousands of times. And then, almost anticlimactically, he and the original officer concluded that the entry stamp used when we arrived in Cape Town was recorded as an “exit” stamp based on our prior stay in South Africa. Since we’d been to South Africa so many times, it was easy for them to make the mistake. They assured us we won’t have a problem in the future.

Imported cars, waiting to be shipped to various locations in South Africa.

The only peace of mind we could glean from the situation was that next time we enter South Africa, mid-June, we’ll easily get a new stamp from having just departed the USA, allowing us a new 90-day stamp.

Within minutes, our passports were stamped, and we were waved onward. The entire ordeal probably lasted no more than 15 minutes, yet it felt like a small saga, the kind that reminds us that even routine travel procedures can suddenly become moments of drama. As we walked back toward the elevators, I couldn’t help but laugh at how travel still finds ways to surprise us. Even after thirteen years on the road, the world continues to test our patience and teach us humility, one faint passport stamp at a time.

Most South Africans prefer white cars due to the heat.

Again, last night, we had a fun evening, staying out of our cabin until midnight, only to deal with a one-hour time change when we returned, which cost us an hour of sleep. I didn’t nod off until 2:00 am, awakening this morning at 7:00. A short nap may be on the agenda this afternoon, as we languish in yet another pleasant sea day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, November 17, 2015:

This area is a chicken farm with cages. Not all chickens in Fiji are free-range. Although they aren’t injected with drugs or fed chemicals, they may eat grains. There’s no way to be 100% certain that the eggs we purchase are from free-range chickens when crates aren’t labeled at the farmers’ market. For more photos, please click here.

Day 14, Sea days continue…Tomorrow, Walvis Bay, Namibia…

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Today marks the last of our nine consecutive days at sea. It’s almost hard to believe how quickly this stretch of ocean life has passed. When we first realized we’d have over a week without a single port stop, it sounded like a long time, days merging into one another, the horizon stretching endlessly in every direction. But here we are, on the eve of reaching Walvis Bay, Namibia, feeling as though the rhythm of the sea has become part of our internal clock. Each sunrise has painted its own story across the water, and each evening, as the ship gently rocked beneath us, we’ve watched the sun sink into the vast Atlantic with the same sense of awe as the day before.

Tomorrow, when the ship finally docks, we’ll step ashore and breathe in the dry desert air of Namibia. The plan is simple: no tours, no rush, just a taxi ride into town to see a few of the sights. After so many days surrounded only by water, the thought of solid ground beneath our feet feels strangely foreign and yet welcome. Walvis Bay, with its sand dunes meeting the sea, flamingos wading through the shallow lagoons, and quiet stretches of coastline, will be a lovely change of scenery. We’ve talked often about spending an extended period in Namibia someday, and this visit will give us a taste of what that might feel like.

Namibia has always intrigued us. There’s a quiet wildness about it, a sense of solitude that feels both vast and comforting. It’s the kind of place that seems to understand travelers like us, those who move slowly, staying long enough to absorb the rhythm of a place before heading on to the next. When we do eventually stay there, we can remain for a few months before returning to South Africa, since Namibia’s proximity on the northwest border doesn’t interfere with our visa timing. It’s a convenient and appealing option, especially since we can make our way back to Marloth Park afterward, a place that always feels like a second home to us.

However, the intricacies of South African visa regulations make planning a bit like solving a puzzle. It’s not as simple as crossing a nearby border and re-entering to get a fresh visa stamp. South Africa has strict rules to prevent what it calls “border hopping,” where visitors leave the country briefly to return for another 90-day stay. Bordering countries such as Namibia, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Botswana don’t qualify for new visa entries. To re-enter South Africa after our permitted time, we must either return to our home country or visit a non-bordering African nation or another country outside of Africa.

That’s one of the reasons we’ve traveled to Zambia so often in the past. Zambia doesn’t share a border with South Africa, making it a viable destination when we need to step away briefly before re-entering. Each time we’ve visited, we’ve discovered something new, lush landscapes, friendly people, and the spectacular Victoria Falls, which never loses its power to amaze. It’s fascinating how our travel patterns have been shaped not just by wanderlust but by the practicalities of visas and regulations. Over time, it’s become second nature to plan our route around these rules, blending bureaucracy with adventure in a way that feels almost seamless now.

Still, when we stand on the deck tonight, watching the final sunset of this long stretch at sea, none of that feels complicated. The horizon glows in shades of gold and rose, and there’s a quiet peace in knowing that tomorrow we’ll set foot on African soil again. We’ve learned to take these transitions in stride, the slow days at sea, the anticipation of arrival, and the steady hum of plans forming for the months ahead. Life as perpetual travelers requires flexibility, but it also rewards us with a deeper understanding of how connected everything is: the people, the landscapes, even the bureaucracies that nudge us from one place to another.

So tonight, as the ship glides through calm waters and we prepare for our arrival in Walvis Bay, I feel both grateful and grounded. These days at sea have reminded me how content we are living this way, moving forward, adapting, finding joy in both the journey and the waiting. Tomorrow, a new chapter begins, if only for a day, as we step off the ship and into the sandy beauty of Namibia, carrying with us the gentle rhythm of the ocean and the quiet excitement of what lies ahead.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, November 9, 2015:

Tom checked in at the dental office reception desk on the Savusavu hospital grounds, providing only his name when he had an abscessed tooth. The dental bill was US $2.63. See the post here.

Day 2, cruising…Heavenly, amid a few glitches…

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Before sailing away, we took this photo of the world-famous Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona.

We couldn’t be more thrilled to be sailing the seas once again. After months of anticipation, the feeling of stepping onto a ship, hearing the faint hum of the engines, and seeing the endless blue horizon fills us with a familiar joy that never gets old. The gentle roll of the ocean feels like home, a rhythm we’ve grown to love after years of traveling the world, always seeking that perfect balance between adventure and serenity.

Last night, we had our first cocktails in the Crown Lounge, exclusively for Diamond Plus and Pinnacle members.

Still, the boarding process was trickier than we’d hoped. I pride myself on being organized with travel documents, but even the most seasoned travelers have their hiccups. Somehow, I made an error when completing our Namibian e-visa applications, and it wasn’t discovered until check-in. My heart sank when the agent pointed it out with a polite but firm smile. We’ll have to redo them in the next few days before arriving in Namibia. Thankfully, there’s time, and as frustrating as it was, it’s all part of the unpredictable nature of travel. These are the moments that remind me that patience and flexibility are as essential as a passport when living this life.

Tom was in the Crown Lounge last night.

Once we were on board, the mood lightened immediately. The familiar scent of the sea and the sound of cheerful greetings from the crew washed away the minor stress of boarding. The ship, though a bit older than some of the newer Royal Caribbean vessels, has a charm all its own: warm, inviting, and comfortable. After unpacking and settling into our cabin, we decided to get our WiFi working so we could stay connected to the world, post updates, and check emails. That’s when the next little hurdle began.

I was in the Crown Lounge previous evening.

We’d prepaid for the VOOM internet, Royal Caribbean’s Starlink, expecting it to be as seamless as on past cruises. Previously, it was as simple as entering an access code and connecting. But this time, the process was anything but simple. There were multiple instructions depending on the device, confusing login pages, and no clear way to activate our prepaid plan. We each tried our phones and laptops, only to end up in a loop of sign-ins that went nowhere.

Tom’s prime rib dinner in the Main Dining Room last night.

After thirty minutes of fiddling, we finally gave in and stood in line at the tech help desk. The line moved slowly, filled with other puzzled passengers holding their phones aloft, hoping for that magical moment when “Connected” would appear on the screen. Usually, we can figure out these things on our own, but this time it was simply too convoluted. Eventually, a patient crew member guided us through the new system. Within minutes, we were online, relief washing over us like the sea breeze outside.

My dinner last night… chicken breast, poached eggs, and a bit of broccoli.

It’s funny how dependent we’ve all become on connectivity, even when sailing across the ocean, far from the routines of everyday life. For us, it’s not just about posting photos or browsing the news. It’s how we manage our travels, communicate with family, and continue writing about our journey for all of our dear readers. Once the connection was stable, we could finally exhale.

The ship’s security department confiscated my big knife that travels with us. At the end of the cruise, we’ll be able to collect it.

As evening approached, we wandered to the deck to watch the sunset, the horizon glowing in shades of gold and pink. The minor frustrations of the day faded as the ship glided smoothly over the calm sea. Below us, the wake shimmered like a trail of silver, a reminder that each day at sea brings both challenges and beauty. Tomorrow, the ship will be farther from shore, and we’ll settle into the rhythm of cruising life, meals, walks on deck, conversation with fellow travelers, which has already been such fun, and the gentle lull of the ocean, reminding us how lucky we are to be here once again.

Even after all these years, there’s nothing quite like the freedom of being at sea.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 28, 2015:

Cows are always curious, and we laughed when this grazing cow picked up his head to check us out. For more photos, please click here.

Traveler’s favorite cruise lines…What are our favorite affordable cruise lines?

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Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas, the cruise ship we’ve booked for 47 nights, is setting sail in less than two months. It’s an older ship that was refurbished in 2019. The last time we sailed on this ship was in April 2016, and it was to our liking at that time.

When travelers sit down and reminisce about their favorite journeys, cruising often comes up with a kind of wistful fondness. There is something about being out at sea, unpacking your suitcase only once, and waking up in a new port every morning that captures the imagination. Yet among all the cruise lines that sail the world’s oceans, people do develop favorites. Sometimes it’s the loyalty perks, sometimes it’s the destinations, and other times it’s simply how a particular ship makes them feel. For seasoned cruisers, their favorite line becomes like a trusted companion—familiar, comforting, and ready to whisk them away when the mood strikes.

Each cruise line has its own character, and over time, travelers gravitate toward the one that feels most like “them.” Carnival, for example, is loved by those who want fun at sea without breaking the bank. Known for its vibrant atmosphere, casual style, and endless activities, Carnival appeals to travelers seeking energy, laughter, and nights that don’t end early. Families and younger couples often declare Carnival their favorite because it feels approachable and never too stuffy. For them, it’s less about formality and more about making memories together.

Royal Caribbean, on the other hand, wins hearts with its sheer spectacle. Its massive ships are floating cities, packed with innovations like surf simulators, ice-skating rinks, rock-climbing walls, and even zip lines high above the decks. For travelers who crave both relaxation and adrenaline, Royal Caribbean becomes the cruise line of choice. Many families pick it as their favorite because there’s genuinely something for everyone—children, teens, parents, and grandparents alike. The entertainment is Broadway-caliber, the dining options are varied, and the destinations are wide-ranging. Once a traveler experiences the scale of a Royal Caribbean ship, it’s hard not to feel dazzled.

For those who lean toward elegance, Celebrity Cruises often tops the list of favorites. Sleek, modern, and stylish, Celebrity caters to travelers who enjoy fine dining, thoughtful design, and a slightly more refined atmosphere. Foodies especially praise Celebrity for its culinary offerings, from rooftop grills to wine cellars that rival those on land. Many couples celebrate anniversaries or milestones on these ships, and it’s no surprise they come back again and again. Once you’ve had a sunset dinner on the deck of a Celebrity ship, it lingers in your memory, calling you back.

Princess Cruises holds a special place in many hearts, particularly among couples and retirees seeking a balance of comfort and affordability. Princess has built a reputation for romantic sailings, partly thanks to its long history with itineraries to Alaska and Hawaii. Many travelers will tell you their very first cruise was with Princess, and because of that, it remains their favorite. The line feels traditional in the best way—classic dining, friendly service, and ships that are large enough to offer variety but not so big they feel overwhelming.

Azamara Journey, on which we sailed in 2023.

Disney Cruise Line stands alone in its own category. For families with children, there is simply no contest. Disney’s attention to detail, storytelling, and service creates an experience unlike any other at sea. Characters roam the decks, themed dining immerses guests in fantasy, and there’s even fireworks at sea. Parents who have sailed with Disney with their little ones often say that no other cruise compares, even years later, when the kids are grown. For them, Disney remains their favorite because it delivered pure magic in a way no other line could.

Some travelers, of course, are drawn toward luxury, and their favorites reflect that. Lines like Silversea, Regent Seven Seas, and Seabourn specialize in indulgence. These ships are smaller, the service is more personalized, and nearly everything is included, from champagne to shore excursions. Once a traveler experiences that level of attention, it’s tough to go back to the bigger, more commercial ships. Luxury cruisers often describe their favorite line with a sense of loyalty that borders on devotion. For them, cruising isn’t about entertainment or activities; it’s about being pampered in a serene, sophisticated environment while sailing to some of the world’s most exclusive destinations.

Then there are the explorers, those who want to go where big ships can’t. Expedition lines like Hurtigruten, Lindblad Expeditions, and Ponant appeal to travelers seeking adventure at the world’s edges, including the Arctic, Antarctica, and the Galápagos Islands. For these passengers, their favorite cruise line isn’t about pool decks or shows, but about knowledge, exploration, and connection to nature. Instead of late-night karaoke, evenings are filled with lectures by naturalists and stories about the day’s discoveries. Their loyalty lies with whichever line brings them closest to the wild.

We sailed on Ponant’s Le Boreal when we visited Antarctica in 2018. It’s a small ship with a maximum passenger capacity of 264, but on our sailing, there were fewer than 200 passengers, making the cruise especially intimate and special.

We sailed on Ponant’s ship, Le Boreal, to Antarctica in 2018.

What makes a cruise line someone’s favorite isn’t always the obvious. It can be a small gesture: a crew member remembering your name, a cabin attendant surprising you with a towel animal, or a chef preparing a dish that tastes just like home. These personal touches often define loyalty more than the size of a ship or the length of an itinerary. Travelers speak warmly about the little things, the sense of belonging that a line fosters. Once that connection forms, it endures.

Favorites also evolve with time. The young partygoer who loved Carnival in their twenties may find themselves preferring Celebrity’s sophistication later in life. Families who adored Disney may shift to Royal Caribbean when the kids become teenagers. A retiree who started with Princess may eventually discover Seabourn and fall in love with its intimate atmosphere. As travelers change, so do their favorites.

At the heart of it all, a traveler’s favorite cruise line isn’t about the advertisements or the rankings. It’s about how that line made them feel. Did it bring joy? Did it create memories worth holding onto? Did it make the world feel a little closer, a little more accessible? That’s why the answer to “What’s the best cruise line?” will always be beautifully subjective.

For one traveler, it might be Carnival, because it brought their family together in laughter. For another, it might be Silversea, because it offered peace and luxury after a lifetime of hard work. For someone else, it could be Disney, because it made their child’s eyes light up in pure wonder.

And so, travelers’ favorite cruise lines are not just about ships at sea…they are about stories, memories, and the ways we connect to the world and to each other while the horizon stretches endlessly ahead.

Overall, for the sake of affordability and quality sailing, we’ve enjoyed Royal Caribbean, Celebrity, and Azamara, and look forward to more sailings in the future.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, August 31, 2015:

Walkway along the pond in the Trinity Beach area. There doesn’t appear to be as many vacation homes in this particular area as we’ve seen in other beach areas. For more photos, please click here.