Merry Christmas!…It’s Christmas Day, today in New Zealand!..

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Merry Christmas with much love to all of our family, friends, and readers throughout the world.

Merry Christmas from New Zealand. It feels both familiar and completely different to be writing those words from this side of the world, where Christmas has already arrived, while so many of the people we love are still moving through Christmas Eve. Over the past day or so, we’ve already had a chance to chat with family members and friends scattered across time zones, some in the US, where Christmas Day will dawn tomorrow, and others who, like us, are celebrating today. The conversations overlapped in a gentle blur of “Merry Christmas,” “It’s almost here,” and “Can you believe it already passed for you?” Time feels elastic when you live this way, stretching and compressing depending on who you’re talking to and where they happen to be in the world.

This morning, Dave stopped by, as he often does, with that easygoing Kiwi warmth that makes you feel instantly at home. He and his dear wife, Eing, invited us to dinner tonight, and we delightfully accepted without hesitation. There’s something especially touching about being welcomed into someone’s home on a holiday when you’re far from your own traditions, your own kitchen, and your own familiar table. Over the years, travel has gifted us many things, but the opportunity to connect with locals, really connect, beyond small talk, has been one of the greatest blessings. And here we are again, another Christmas spent not in a place we once called home, but in a place that feels welcoming in its own quiet, unassuming way.

As we’ve continued this lifestyle year after year, we’ve found ourselves celebrating holidays alongside people from all over the world. Each experience adds another layer to our understanding of how others live, gather, and mark special days. In New Zealand, Christmas falls in summer, and even that slight shift changes everything. The light lingers longer, the air feels different, and the pace of the day doesn’t quite match the snowy scenes so deeply ingrained in our memories. Yet the heart of it, the kindness, the togetherness, the sense of pausing, remains.

Tom’s birthday, which sits right next to Christmas, was a gentle reminder of how adaptable life has become. He had a lovely birthday, filled with messages that arrived throughout the day and night via WhatsApp, Facebook, texts, emails, and phone calls. Each message carried a small reminder of our old lives, a reminder that distance doesn’t erase connection. It’s always been an odd time of year to have a birthday, but Tom has long made the best of it, and this year was no different.

In our old lives, I made a point of keeping his birthday separate from Christmas. No presents wrapped in Christmas paper. No holiday-themed cakes or desserts sneaking their way into his celebration. It was important to me that the day belonged solely to him, uninterrupted by ornaments or carols. It was a tradition rooted in care, in making sure he felt celebrated for who he is, not as an add-on to a holiday.

Now, living this unique, nomadic life, things look different. We don’t make a fuss about Christmas in the traditional sense. There are no trees to decorate, no boxes of ornaments pulled from storage, no shopping lists filled with gifts. What remains is the spiritual meaning we carry quietly in our hearts. The commercialism has fallen away, no longer shaping how we experience the season. And honestly, I can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

This simpler version of Christmas feels truer somehow, less about what we do and more about how we feel. Gratitude, connection, reflection, and an openness to wherever we happen to be. This year, that place is New Zealand, and we are thankful for the people we’ve met, the kindness they’ve shown us, and the gentle reminder that home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s simply the moment you’re in, shared with others, wherever in the world you may be.

Merry Christmas and be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 25, 2015:

Yum, baby octopus. We went to a buffet lunch at the Pearl Resort in Pacific Harbour, Fiji, on Christmas Day. Those heads are a bit tricky to chew. I ate four of these, less one head. For more photos, please click here.

It’s Christmas Eve, here in the Southern Hemisphere…A laid back holiday for us…

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This cute little cow has a notched ear along with a speckled face.

Tom thanks our many friends/readers who reached out to him with happy birthday wishes; it was yesterday here on this side of the dateline, but it is today in the US with the 19-hour time difference.

Cows were watching us drive past.

Our trip to the New World Market in Whangārei was, on the surface, relatively uneventful, but in the quiet, practical way that feels deeply satisfying when you’re living far from familiar faces and surroundings while trying to settle into a leisurely pace. The shopping was rewarding in the simplest sense: I found every single item on my carefully prepared list. No substitutions. No settling. That alone felt like a small victory.

Cows are inquisitive.

We spent US $406.92, or NZ $696.90, which still makes me pause when I say it out loud, but the cart was full in a way that promised comfort and ease for the coming weeks. With any luck, this haul will carry us through close to two weeks, saving us another long drive sooner than necessary. Groceries in New Zealand are undeniably expensive, yet the quality is extraordinary. This country knows its food.

The beef, chicken, lamb, pork, and seafood were pristine, beautifully displayed, and clearly treated with care. The produce looked as though it had been picked that morning, vibrant and alive, and the dairy, well, New Zealand dairy truly deserves its reputation. What surprised me most was how many organic and non-GMO options were simply part of the everyday selection, not tucked away on a specialty shelf or priced like a luxury item.

I tried taking photos of the scenery, but the narrow, winding two-lane road made it hard to capture anything without stopping. Thus, more cows.

Despite everything, I actually enjoyed the shopping. There’s something grounding about wandering wide aisles, considering options, imagining meals, and slowly rebuilding a sense of normalcy. The staff were friendly and genuinely helpful, the kind of warmth that doesn’t feel forced or scripted. While I shopped, Tom was only a short distance away, finally getting a much-needed haircut. Or so we thought. As it turned out, his haircut took far longer than my shopping expedition. He texted me about the delay, stuck waiting for his turn at the barbershop, while I continued filling the cart.

About halfway through, my body reminded me, rather firmly, that it’s still recovering. The lingering effects of the virus, combined with my usual walking issues, hit all at once. My legs suddenly felt like jelly, unreliable and weak, and even leaning heavily on the cart didn’t help much. By the time I reached the checkout, I knew I needed to sit down immediately. I made my way to the customer service desk and asked if there was somewhere, anywhere, I could sit down.

These wild purple/blue flowers often line the roads in New Zealand. They are agapanthus.

The woman behind the counter didn’t hesitate. She was kindness itself, immediately escorting me to a sitting area near the exit door. She even offered to check out my groceries and bag them for me. I was tempted, but I knew Tom would be arriving soon with the stash of reusable bags our landlord, Dave, had left for us, including several insulated ones. With the long drive back to Kaiwaka, we felt better knowing our perishables would stay cold.

On the drive to the market, I took a few photos when I could, but the long, winding, narrow roads made stopping difficult, with other vehicles close behind us. It seemed everyone was out shopping for the holidays, and I noticed countless missed photo opportunities along the way. I’m hoping that once the holiday rush passes, we’ll be able to stop more freely and capture the beauty I glimpsed through the window.

Popular coffee shop with quaint decor.

Before long, Tom appeared, freshly coiffed and looking very pleased with himself. He directed me to the car to rest while he took care of the groceries. About an hour later, we were back at the house, unpacking and tucking everything neatly away. That night, we kept dinner simple with chicken leftovers, grateful for an easy evening. Yesterday, I finished making Tom’s birthday pizza, and he enjoyed it immensely.

We are content. We are grateful. And with each passing day, we’re feeling just a little better. This Christmas Eve and Christmas Day will be quiet, spent resting and appreciating the calm of our lovely home in Kaiwaka, New Zealand, and that feels like exactly what we need.

Merry Christmas and be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 24, 2015:

We’ve often seen these boats heading to scuba diving and snorkeling on the reefs in Pacific Harbour, Fiji. For more photos, please click here.

Happy birthday, to my dear husband, travel companion and friend…

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Tom, in 2020, while we were on an excursion from the Maharajas Express train.

December 23rd is Tom’s 73rd birthday. Happy birthday, my darling husband. Depending on where you’re standing on the globe, it’s almost his birthday. Back in the US, with the significant time difference, his birthday won’t technically arrive until tomorrow. Here in New Zealand, though, the day has already unfolded, quietly, gently, without fanfare, and that feels oddly fitting this year.

With both of us still recovering from this awful flu, there were never going to be balloons, dinners out, or ambitious plans. No reservations, no cake, no clinking glasses in a crowded restaurant. Instead, the day has been marked in the small, meaningful ways that seem to define this moment of our lives, slow movements, simple comforts, and doing the best we can with the energy we have.

Last night, while seated at the dining table, I chopped and diced mushrooms, olives, and onions for Tom’s favorite dinner: homemade keto pizza. The feel of my big knife against the cutting board felt oddly soothing. Outside, the evening was quiet, the kind of quiet that settles into rural places after dark, when even the birds seem to call it a night early. I worked slowly, pausing often, still not quite back to normal, but determined. This was something I could do for him, even if everything else felt a bit out of reach.

This morning, the kitchen filled with that unmistakable smell of baking cheese as the crusts went into the oven. The cheesy sausages followed soon after, sizzling away, requiring very little attention, mercifully easy on a day when standing too long still feels like a commitment. Soon I’ll slice them and assemble the pizzas, layering the toppings just the way Tom likes them. It’s not fancy, but it’s his favorite, and that feels far more important than any elaborate celebration ever could.

I probably won’t eat pizza myself. It’s simply too fattening for me, and honestly, I don’t mind making something different. There’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing that by skipping it, I’m leaving Tom with more pizza to enjoy, not just tonight, but over Christmas as well. Leftover birthday pizza feels like its own kind of gift, one that keeps on giving long after the actual day.

Yesterday, despite still feeling far from 100%, we made the long drive to the fantastic New World supermarket in Mangawhai. It was one of those necessary outings you brace yourself for when you’re not feeling well, knowing you’ll be glad you did it once it’s over. I did the shopping while Tom took the opportunity to get a much-needed haircut. It felt good to divide and conquer, each of us accomplishing something small but essential.

I took several photos on the drive to the market. The countryside was lush and green, the kind of green that feels almost unreal if you’ve spent enough time in drier places. But on the return drive, the rain came down hard, thick sheets of it, blurring the landscape and limiting my ability to capture much more. Still, the images I did get feel like enough, little visual reminders of a day that was more about practicality than beauty, yet somehow managed to be both.

Tomorrow, we’ll share more details and photos from our trip to Mangawhai. For now, though, today belongs to Tom, 73 years, quietly celebrated, with pizza in the oven, rain on the roof, and the comfort of being exactly where we are, even if we’re still not quite ourselves.

Be well.

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

Tom was in front of the tall Christmas tree at the Pearl Resort in Pacific Harbour, Fiji, on the evening of his 63rd birthday. For more photos, please click here.

An update…

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This morning’s rainy view from our holiday home.

We arrived in New Zealand a week ago today, though it feels both longer and shorter than that, depending on the moment. The night we left Auckland for the long drive north, I couldn’t stop coughing the entire way. Mile after mile of riding in the dark, I was hacking, hoping the hum of the road might somehow shake whatever had taken hold of me. By the time we reached our holiday home in Kaiwaka, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones, the kind that doesn’t disappear with sleep.

By Sunday evening, there was a glimmer of improvement. We attended a small neighborhood get-together at our landlords’ home, Dave and Eing, who live just down the road. It was low-key and welcoming, the kind of gathering that reminds us why we have such fond memories of spending time in New Zealand in 2016. Earlier that day, we’d even managed a grocery run, which at the time felt like a small victory. I remember thinking, maybe this thing is passing. Perhaps we’ve turned a corner.

But Monday morning quickly erased that optimism. We woke with the unmistakable feeling of an entirely new virus taking over, uncontrolled coughing, crushing malaise, and a weakness that made even standing feel like an accomplishment. Over the next few days, it worsened for both of us. Ordinary tasks became monumental. Laundry was an athletic event. Making the bed required rest breaks. Preparing meals felt like running a marathon. For me, the most challenging part was the brain fog. I couldn’t think clearly enough to write, let alone take photos or shape words into something coherent. Silence filled the days where stories usually live.

This morning, Saturday, was the first day we awoke feeling a little better. It’s not much, but it’s something, and right now, something feels like everything. In the past few days, Tom read a Facebook post about a survey asking cruise passengers whether they’d gotten sick during the cruise, near the end of the voyage, or shortly after disembarking. Thirty-four percent responded yes. One passenger had even been hospitalized with Legionnaires’ disease, a terrifying and potentially deadly illness. Reading that stopped us both cold.

We have another cruise coming up, fully paid, 25 nights, beginning April 14. Before that, once we reach Tasmania, we plan to get prescriptions for Tamiflu to take for the entire length of the cruise. This experience has made me seriously rethink cruising in the future, unless it’s on much smaller ships, where the risk of getting sick is lower. The romance of it all fades quickly when illness lingers this long.

For now, our only real goal is getting better. Sightseeing can wait. Photos can wait. Even grocery shopping and dining out feel like distant ideas rather than plans. We are deeply grateful to the many readers who’ve written with kind words and well wishes; it means more than we can say.

Despite everything, we’re happy to be in New Zealand, surrounded by sweeping views, wildlife, and genuinely friendly people. When our bodies finally catch up with our hearts, we know this place will be worth the wait.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 20, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, a private drive to an upscale home in our neighborhood. For more photos, please click here.

The revealing reason why….Photo of our new location…

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The view from the kitchen in our holiday home in Kaiwaka, New Zealand.

I don’t like sharing this news, but because we’ve always promised transparency in our stories, today I had no choice but to let our readers know what’s really been going on. It’s embarrassing for me, which is precisely why I’ve hesitated to share it sooner. As someone who was once intensely active, committed to health and fitness, and proud of a strong, capable body, admitting vulnerability does not come easily. In fact, it feels like swallowing a truth I’ve been avoiding for weeks.

For the last 42 days of our 47-night cruise, I said nothing. I kept thinking I would get better, that this would pass, and there would be no need to explain why we were doing so little, why I often disappeared early, or why I skipped excursions I would usually jump at. Instead of improving, though, I slowly got worse. And that’s still the case right now.

Since my open-heart surgery in 2019, my immune system has never fully bounced back. It feels fragile, easily overwhelmed. If I’m exposed to someone who’s sick, I almost inevitably get sick within a few days. While we were in Marloth Park, I had far fewer issues, most likely because of the low population and limited close contact with others. When I knew someone was sick, I asked for their understanding and avoided them until they recovered. It worked surprisingly well.

A cruise ship, however, is an entirely different environment. There is no avoiding coughing, sneezing, or close quarters—especially when so many people are curious about our unusual lifestyle and stop to chat. Add to that the fact that about five days into the cruise, I tripped over my own feet and injured my right knee badly enough that I could barely walk. I knew it wasn’t broken, so there was no need to see the ship’s doctor. I did exactly what they would have told me anyway: iced it, rested it, and stayed off it as much as possible. By the final week of the cruise, the swelling had gone down significantly, and I could walk better again.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, at the first sign of a virus, I started taking Tamiflu. Thankfully, it worked incredibly well. What could have been awful turned into a relatively mild case of coughing and sneezing. We stayed in the cabin for a few days and nights, and not long after, I was around people again. Still, I didn’t feel well enough to go on excursions, especially those involving a lot of walking.

When we saw Louise and Danie early on in Cape Town, and later Rita and Gerhard in Bali, I genuinely thought I was improving—even though I continued coughing a lot at night. During all of this, Tom was coughing and sneezing too, though thankfully, he’s doing better now.

Then, during the last few days of the cruise, I started feeling worse again. The worst moment came the night we drove from Auckland to Kaiwaka, a drive that should have taken 90 minutes but turned into three hours after a wrong turn. I was coughing so hard I could barely breathe, and I honestly don’t know how I got through that long drive.

Once we arrived at the house and got settled, I thought I was on the upswing again. We even attended a several-hour party at Dave and Eine’s home, our landlords, and I managed pretty well. But yesterday, everything flared up again, worse than when it first started. Why does it come and go like this? Today, I feel like I could spend the entire day in bed. I took a two-hour nap yesterday, something that is very unusual for me.

Thankfully, our grocery shopping is done, and we have enough food to last a few weeks. Hopefully, by the time we need to shop again, I’ll be on the mend. So there it is, friends. This is why we did so little on the cruise and why I don’t feel well enough to go anywhere right now. I need to get better so we can truly enjoy our time here in New Zealand, in this lovely, albeit remote, location.

And if you’re wondering why we keep traveling, it’s because we’re not done yet. We trust this is a season, not an ending, and we’re holding onto the hope that it will pass, allowing us to continue forward with joy.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 16, 2015:

Breathtaking shades of pink bleeding hearts at Suva, Fiji, farmer’s market. For more photos, please click here.

We’re baaaaack!…WiFi issues resolved…Kaiwaka, New Zealand…Our new home for the next two months…

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Sheep, at a neighboring farm.

Getting here after we disembarked the cruise wasn’t easy, and that’s putting it gently. After weeks of floating predictably from port to port, we were abruptly returned to the realities of schedules, logistics, and fatigue. Two hours of flight delays set the tone almost immediately, including a long wait before we even lifted off from Brisbane Airport. By the time we landed in Auckland, we assumed the worst was behind us, only to find ourselves sitting on the tarmac for another forty-five minutes while the plane waited for a “parking gate.” It was one of those moments where you’re too tired to be annoyed and too resigned to feel anything at all. You stare out the window and wait.

Collecting the rental car took even longer, and when we finally found it, we both laughed. Tiny doesn’t quite cover it. Tom, however, turned out to be a magician, somehow coaxing an impressive number of bags into a space that looked barely capable of holding groceries. Despite his best efforts, two carry-on bags had to stay in the front seat with us. One was wedged under my feet, making comfort an ambitious goal rather than a realistic one, but at that point, practicality trumped everything else.

The drive from Auckland to Kaiwaka usually takes just under two hours, but we stretched it to three. A wrong turn onto a toll road, with no exits and no possibility of turning around, cost us a whole extra hour. It was late, dark, and the kind of mistake you only make when you’re exhausted and overconfident all at once. By the time we finally pulled up to the house at 1:00 a.m., we were running on fumes.

Taking photos in the rain was tricky this morning. More photos will follow when it clears.

Dave, our landlord, incredibly kind and patient, waited outside to guide us to the house and help Tom unload the bags. That small act of generosity felt enormous at that hour. Even in the dark, we could tell the house was just as lovely as we’d hoped, and despite our exhaustion, there was a quiet thrill in knowing we had arrived. We didn’t unpack that night. We took out what we needed and collapsed, grateful to finally rest.

Morning, however, brought an entirely different kind of magic. In daylight, the location revealed itself in full glory, rolling green hills, sweeping ocean views, and, to our absolute delight, sheep and cows everywhere. There’s something deeply grounding about waking up to that kind of landscape, especially after weeks at sea and a long, trying journey. It felt like we had landed somewhere both new and oddly familiar, a place that invited us to exhale.

We took this photo on the way to the market on Sunday.

Sunday was devoted mainly to unpacking, though “unpacking” might be an optimistic word. With limited drawer space (but plenty of closet space and hangers, I left many of my clothes in my suitcase. Over the next few days, we’ll wash them, hang them to dry, and I’ll repack everything neatly back into the bag. Since we’re only here for a short time, I don’t mind living partially out of a suitcase. It makes repacking easier when it’s time to leave on February 12, and there’s something freeing about not fully settling in.

Yesterday, grocery shopping topped the agenda. By noon, we were out the door, heading toward the closer of the two markets. The larger supermarket, with better prices and a wider selection, was another twenty minutes beyond the small, minimally stocked (and noticeably more expensive) shop near the mini-mall. Convenience won this round.

We filled the cart carefully, doing the quiet mental math that seems to follow us everywhere these days, and walked out, having spent NZ$ 584 (about US$338.35). It felt like a lot, and it was, but the bags held enough food to last us close to two weeks comfortably. There’s a certain relief in opening a well-stocked fridge and pantry after weeks of ship meals, a feeling of being temporarily anchored.

The rolling hills will look better on a clear day.

When those shelves start to thin out, we’ll make the longer drive to the distant supermarket everyone swears by, the one with better prices and more variety. For now, though, we’re settled and grateful for small but meaningful victories as we ease into daily life here.

As if the day hadn’t already offered enough warmth and welcome, Dave and his dear wife, Eing, who live a short distance down the road, had planned a get-together with local friends and invited us to attend. After such a long and complicated arrival, that invitation felt like a gentle affirmation that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be, for now.

The friends/neighbors were delightful, and we fit right in. The conversation flowed easily, interspersed with laughter, much of it prompted by Tom’s natural gift for entertaining those around him. It was a fun time with more such gatherings to come in the future.

We’d planned to do laundry today, but it’s raining. Tomorrow’s another day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 15, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, colorful trees were blooming in the neighborhood. For more photos, please click here.

Day 46…Port of call…Airlie Beach…Ten key facts about Airlie Beach…Two days until disembarkation…

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View of Airlie Beach. Not our photo.

There’s a particular sensation that settles in during the final stretch of a long cruise, a blend of anticipation and nostalgia, mixed with that subtle itch to move on to whatever comes next. As we inch closer to Saturday, when we’ll disembark in Brisbane and catch our flight to Auckland, I find myself perched somewhere between savoring these last few days at sea and mentally sorting through what lies ahead. It always amazes me how, even after weeks of cruising, the end seems to arrive in a sudden whoosh, as if the ship picks up emotional speed as well as physical momentum.

The flight to Auckland is 3½ hours, compared to the 90-minute drive afterward, the one that will take us through unfamiliar territory to Kaiwaka, our newest temporary “home,” though that word takes on a funny shape after so many years of living nomadically. We’ve settled into countless rentals, guesthouses, and countryside cottages around the world, but each new landing still carries that flutter of curiosity: What will the view look like out the kitchen window? Will the bed be comfortable enough? Will the laundry situation be workable? These things matter more than guidebooks ever admit.

And yet, despite the familiar uncertainties, there’s an eagerness growing in both of us. The cruise has been fantastic in many ways, relaxing, entertaining, indulgent in ways that land-life isn’t, but after this many days at sea, we begin to crave the ordinary again. For some passengers, the idea of leaving the ship seems almost tragic, but for us, it means the return of simple routines that have somehow become luxuries in themselves. I’m oddly excited for grocery shopping, for finding the local market aisles where the produce is freshest and discovering which New Zealand brands I’ll grow attached to during this stay. There’s comfort in the small rituals of settling in.

We’ve already started the mental packing, though the suitcases remain half-emptied for now. A cruise has a way of scattering your belongings into every corner of the cabin, chargers here, shoes there, a stack of paperwork that we’ll dispose of, somehow keeps migrating across the desk. I can already picture myself doing that pre-departure sweep, opening drawers I forgot existed, folding and refolding clothes more times than is necessary, as if the precision of packing could somehow make the transition smoother. After all these years, I know it never does, but it gives me a sense of order amid the change.

Kaiwaka will be entirely new for us. We’ve never stayed there, never driven its winding roads, never watched its sunsets from whatever angle the house allows. There’s something refreshing about that blank slate. Instead of returning to familiar rentals in Marloth Park,  where I know which pan overheats or which lamp flickers, we get to learn it all anew. And perhaps that’s why, even after a lovely cruise, I’m ready to step off the gangway and lean into the next chapter.

Tom, ever the more dedicated cruiser between us, has mentioned several times how quickly these 47 nights have passed, how each port and sea day blended into a kind of easy pattern. And he’s right. But even he seems ready now for a dining room that isn’t shared with hundreds of fellow passengers, for nights without announcements, and for mornings when the only schedule is the one we choose.

By Saturday afternoon, the ship will be behind us, the laughter, the meals, the gentle rocking at night, and ahead will be the cool, familiar air of New Zealand, the promise of new scenery, and the long-awaited chance to stretch out in a home-like space again. As always, we’re grateful for the journey, for the comforts onboard, for the ability to move from one life to another with relative ease.

But more than anything, we’re ready. Kaiwaka, here we come.

Ten key facts about Airlie Beach:

  1. Gateway to the Whitsundays: It’s the primary launching point for boat trips to the 74 Whitsunday Islands and the Great Barrier Reef.
  2. Man-Made Lagoon: Features a large, free, stinger-proof public swimming lagoon with fresh, chlorinated water, perfect for year-round swimming.
  3. Tropical Climate: Enjoy hot, humid summers and warm, pleasant winters, ideal for outdoor activities.
  4. Backpacker Hub: A popular spot on Australia’s East Coast route, known for its lively atmosphere and backpacker-friendly amenities.
  5. Proximity to Reef: Offers easy access to the stunning coral reefs and beaches of the Great Barrier Reef.
  6. Markets & Food: Home to local markets selling crafts, coffee, and fresh, delicious seafood.
  7. Name Origin: Believed to be named after the Scottish Parish of Airlie by a local councillor in the 1930s.
  8. Transport Hub: The closest airport is Proserpine (PPP), about 30 minutes away, making it easily accessible.
  9. Stinger Protection: Natural beaches have stinger nets, but the lagoon provides safe swimming during stinger season.
  10. Vibrant Town: A mix of natural beauty, town amenities, shops, pubs (like the Airlie Beach Hotel), and entertainment, including fire performers.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 11, 2015:

Wherever we travel, water views always offer photo ops, as in Pacific Harbour, Fiji. For more photos, please click here.

Day 45…Port of call…Cairns, Australia…Ten key facts about Carins…

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Tom was busy inspecting this giant tree at the Cairns Botanic Garden.

Note: Today’s photos are from our 2015 visit to the Cairns Botanic Gardens. If you’d like to see more of our posts from Cairns, including photos from the Great Barrier Reef,  please use our “search box” on the right side of our main page and type in “Cairns.”

Today, our ship is tendering passengers to Cairns, Australia, giving everyone a window until the 4:00 pm “back-on-board” deadline to explore this vibrant tropical city. Under ordinary circumstances, Cairns is the kind of place that tugs at you to come ashore, with its casual outdoor cafés, wide esplanades, and that unmistakable Queensland humidity that clings to your skin like a warm embrace. But after our extended stay here back in 2015, three full months of exploring every corner we could reach by foot, shuttle, or rental car, we both knew, without hesitation, that again, we’d stay onboard today.

A beautiful bouquet already made by nature.

It wasn’t that we didn’t love Cairns. Quite the opposite. Some places leave you saturated with memories, so full that returning doesn’t feel necessary. Cairns carries a certain nostalgia for us: the lazy afternoons wandering along the Esplanade, pausing to watch kids splash around the lagoon after school; the early mornings when the air felt soft and forgiving, and we’d stroll down quiet streets searching for photo ops and the day trips to the rainforest and Kuranda, the reef tours, and the quiet little moments that shaped that season of our lives. Those experiences were rich enough that we’ve never felt compelled to chase a “better version” of them.

And honestly, the logistics alone were enough to discourage even the slightest flicker of temptation to go ashore. Tendering in a busy port always adds layers of waiting and uncertainty. There were long queues to get tender tickets to board the tenders. Tom read a Facebook post about the pushing and shoving to get the tender tickets, which led to a passenger being pushed to the ground. Good grief.

Neither of us felt like spending the day in long queues, first to get off the ship, and then later for the shuttle from town back to the dock, only to queue once again for the tenders returning to the ship. My knee is improving day by day, and although I’m grateful for every bit of progress, I’m still not interested in testing it on long, uneven walks in hot, sticky weather if there’s no real motivation behind it.

A pretty waterfall.

There was also nothing in the immediate area calling our names. Cairns is lovely, but its charm lies in wandering, dining, and partaking in activities we’ve already done, absorbed, and appreciated. I didn’t feel any tug of curiosity, none of that familiar spark that usually pushes us into an impromptu adventure. We both felt content to stay put, letting the day unfold peacefully rather than in the stop-and-start of tender days.

In a way, I think our decision reflects how our travel style has evolved over the years. Early in our journey, we felt a pressure to see everything, to step ashore in every port, to make the most of every chance. There was a fear of missing something, an impulse to collect experiences like souvenirs. But somewhere along the way, perhaps after enough wanderlust has been satisfied or enough corners of the world become familiar, you permit yourself not to “do it all.”

Now, especially on longer cruises, we often favor these quiet, shipbound days when the decks are nearly empty, and the usual bustle gives way to a rare stillness. There’s a peacefulness that settles in when most passengers are ashore. You can find seats in every lounge, claim a quiet table near a window, and savor a leisurely cup of tea without interruption.

This was one of my favorites.

We’re also only a few days away from disembarking the ship completely, and the anticipation of settling into our new routine in Kaiwaka adds a layer of contentment to everything. I find myself craving simple, ordinary things: grocery shopping, cooking meals in a real kitchen, doing laundry with detergent whose scent I actually like. It’s funny how long-term travel rewires your sense of what feels exciting. Right now, the idea of standing in my own kitchen in New Zealand, chopping vegetables, stirring a pot, and opening the fridge to a wide array of dining options is most appealing.

We’ll likely spend part of the afternoon catching up on emails, perhaps sitting at the café with our laptops and watching the tenders shuttle back and forth. Maybe we’ll wander out to the deck railing later to look at the coastline we once knew so well, admiring it with a fondness that doesn’t require us to set foot on land.

Pink beauty.

Sometimes, the best travel days aren’t the ones filled with motion and activity. Sometimes, they’re the ones when you permit yourself to stay still, to appreciate where you are, where you’ve been, and where you’re headed next. Today is one of those days.

Here are ten key facts about Cairns, Australia:

  1. Gateway to Natural Wonders: Cairns is the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef and the ancient Daintree Rainforest, both UNESCO World Heritage sites. We visited these areas in 2015.
  2. Tropical Climate: Enjoy warm, tropical weather year-round, though it experiences distinct wet (summer) and dry (winter) seasons.
  3. The Esplanade Lagoon: A popular free, saltwater swimming lagoon on the city’s foreshore, perfect for locals and tourists.
  4. Biodiversity Hub: Home to unique wildlife, including the iconic cassowary, crocodiles, and the giant Hercules Moth, the world’s largest.
  5. Multicultural City: A diverse community with many languages spoken, including a significant Papua New Guinean population.
  6. Adventure Capital: A base for adrenaline activities like bungee jumping, white-water rafting, and exploring vast off-road trails.
  7. Rich Aboriginal Heritage: The region is the traditional land of the Gimuy-walubarra yidi people, with a rich cultural history.
  8. Home to QLD’s Highest Peak: Queensland’s highest mountain, Mount Bartle Frere (1,611m), is located just south of the city.
  9. Vibrant Markets & Food: Known for lively Night Markets offering local crafts, street food, and diverse cuisines.
  10. Scenic Transport: Features iconic experiences like the historic Kuranda Scenic Railway and the Skyrail Rainforest Cableway. 

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 10, 2015:

The market in the Arts Village in Pacific Harbour, Fiji, has few items suitable for our diet, but it’s ideal for most tourists, with lots of “western” snacks, chips, soda, and other processed, packaged items. They don’t sell “real” butter, only tub margarine, which we won’t buy. For more photos, please click here.

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 42…Port of call…Darwin…Ten key facts about Darwin…

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An overcast day in Darwin, Australia.

We have decided to stay on the ship today while we’re docked in Darwin, Australia. Having been here several times over the years, the sense of urgency to disembark and explore simply wasn’t there. We’d walked through the town on our last visit, slowly weaving along the waterfront, pausing in little patches of shade under the sparse trees, and feeling that familiar Darwin blend of heavy heat and easy charm. It’s a pleasant enough place, and one we’ve appreciated in the past, but today, neither of us felt compelled to push ourselves out into the sweltering conditions “just because.”

Declining the ship’s tours was easy. The popular “crocodile jumping” boat tour, a favorite among first-timers, held no appeal for us. After years spent in South Africa, where we’d quietly observed enormous crocodiles sunning themselves on the banks of the Crocodile River, creatures far more massive and awe-inspiring than the ones that leap for dangling meat in the tourist video, it’s hard to feel the same excitement for a staged spectacle. Those moments in the wild, when you’re close enough to feel the rumble of nature but still respectfully distant, set the bar impossibly high. And so, the idea of a choreographed thrill couldn’t compare.

As for the five or six-hour walking tours, they were out of the question from the start. Even in ideal weather, such long treks are more than I would attempt these days, especially after the lingering knee troubles. Add Darwin’s infamous heat and humidity, the kind that wraps around you like a wet blanket the moment you step off the gangway, and the decision became obvious. There’s no point in forcing ourselves to endure discomfort on a day when enjoying the quiet on the ship is much more appealing.

From our cabin balcony, we observed the pace of the day: enthusiastic passengers rushing ashore in the morning, full of energy and resolve, only to reappear a short time later looking wilted and dazed.

By noon, the ship felt unusually still, as if it too were trying to conserve its energy against the oppressive heat outside. Many guests who remained on board seemed to settle into the same slow, languid pace we had adopted, drifting between the coolness of the Promenade Cafe or a quiet corner in the library. There’s something peaceful about staying behind in port when so many passengers are ashore. Hallways become quiet, elevators arrive instantly, and the crew moves about with a more relaxed cadence, unburdened by the full intensity of a sea day.

Port of Darwin from the ship’s balcony.

In a way, these port days spent onboard often feel like stolen chapters of rest within an otherwise full itinerary. Travelers sometimes forget that it’s okay, necessary, even, to choose stillness over sightseeing. Long-term travel teaches you that not every destination has to be explored again and again, especially when you’ve already walked those streets, taken those photos, and made those memories.

So we’re here, contentedly tucked away, watching the day unfold from our floating home. And rather than feeling as though we missed something, we think the opposite, grateful for the quiet, for the comfort, and for the gentle reminder that sometimes the best choice is the simplest one.

Here are ten key facts about Darwin, Australia:
  1. Named After Charles Darwin (Who Never Visited): The city was named by explorer John Lort Stokes in honor of his former shipmate, naturalist Charles Darwin, though Charles himself never set foot in the area.
  2. Crocodile Capital: Darwin has more crocodiles than people, offering unique encounters at places like Crocosaurus Cove, where you can even swim with them.
  3. Cyclone Tracy Devastation: In 1974, Cyclone Tracy destroyed over 70% of the city, leading to a massive rebuilding effort and a new building code.
  4. World War II History: Darwin was a crucial Allied military base during WWII, heavily bombed by the Japanese.
  5. Unique Markets: The Mindil Beach Sunset Market is an iconic weekly event featuring food stalls, arts, and stunning sunsets.
  6. Harbor Size: Darwin Harbour is five times larger than Sydney Harbour.
  7. Multicultural Melting Pot: The city boasts over 60 nationalities, creating a vibrant Asian-influenced food scene and cultural mix.
  8. Beer Can Regatta: It hosts the world’s only Beer Can Regatta, where people build boats from beer cans to raise money for charity.
  9. Aboriginal Name & Culture: Its Indigenous name is Garramilla, and Aboriginal culture is a significant part of the city’s identity.
  10. Remote but Connected: Despite its remoteness from other Australian capitals, Darwin is a modern city well connected by air and offers a relaxed, tropical lifestyle. 

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 7, 2015:

View of the pool and patio from the veranda at our new holiday home in Pacific Harbour, Fiji. For more photos, please click here.