Why Sea Days Are the Unsung Heroes of Cruising 🚢🍹📚

Let’s be honest: when most people think about cruising, their minds go straight to the ports — ancient ruins, exotic beaches, bustling markets, and maybe even the occasional lemur sighting. And don’t get us wrong — we love all that. But we’re going to let you in on a little cruising secret: some of our favorite days are the ones when we’re going absolutely nowhere.

Yep. Sea days. Glorious, unhurried, wind-in-your-hair sea days.

We're currently sailing aboard the Regent Seven Seas Voyager, a floating five-star hotel where the sheets are tucked tighter than our travel itinerary. We're on a 72-night Grand Voyage (yes, seventy-two nights — our mailman misses us), and we had 24 whole sea days built in. And let us tell you — we cherished every single one.

Adult Day Camp, But with Champagne

Picture this: a full day where you don’t have to wake up at 6:30am for a coach tour, sprint to beat 47 other people to the bathroom, or remember how to say "where's the restroom?" in Swahili.

Instead? You roll out of bed at a dignified hour (or not), shuffle to breakfast for smoked salmon and croissants, and then decide between Bingo, mahjong, or a lecture on ancient maritime trade routes. It's like summer camp for grown-ups — only the mess hall serves filet mignon and the juice has been replaced with mojitos.

Cruise director-approved activities? Check. Quiz games with questionable scoring rules? Double check. Poolside trivia where someone inevitably yells out the answer too early? Triple check and bless them.

Books, Balconies, and Blissful Naps

Here’s our personal formula for a perfect sea day:
Books + Balcony + Breeze = Nap Time Nirvana.

We may be social butterflies on land, but at sea? We're nerdy homebodies in vacation mode. Sea days give us time to work out (or talk about working out), read for hours (Mike averages a book every 36 hours, it's terrifying), and nap like professional sloths.

One of our absolute favorite activities? Just sitting on our balcony. Watching endless stretches of blue, feeling the wind whip our faces into unintentional facials, and letting the gentle swaying of the ship lull us into dreamland. Honestly, it’s how we imagine being inside a lava lamp must feel — cozy, floaty, and occasionally disoriented.

Mike claims the ship's gentle rocking has inspired his next business venture: a bed that mimics the feeling of being at sea. (Patent pending.) He's also working on a plan to fix global politics. It’s amazing what a little time away from cable news and dry land will do for the imagination.

Jenny, on the other hand, choreographs new dances in her head during sea days. Because obviously, the world needs more modern dances.

The Real Gift: Time to Think, Dream, and Digest (Both Food and Life)

Sea days are that magical pause button in the cruise experience. They give you time to process all the madness — the new places, the smells, the stories, the unexpected street snacks. You get to step back and actually reflect on what this whole crazy adventure means.

It’s not just a travel day. It’s a thinking day. A creativity day. A “maybe-I’ll-start-that-book-I’ve-been-talking-about-since-2011” day. It’s a “what if we sold everything and opened a pineapple farm in Tahiti?” kind of day.

And perhaps best of all? You get all of this without the constant packing and unpacking.
That might be the most underrated luxury of cruise travel: you move from country to country, continent to continent, and your suitcase never sees the light of day after embarkation. It's like teleporting, but with better food and turn-down service.

Final Thoughts from the Middle of the Ocean

We’ve seen some wild, beautiful, moving things on this voyage — wild animals, powerful storms, kids playing soccer on the beach, lemurs with attitude, and art that made us stop and stare. But nothing feels quite like a good sea day.

So here’s to the in-between moments. To the sea days that make all the other days even sweeter. To the naps, the laughter, the quiet, the dreaming, and the soft clink of a champagne flute as you toast to… absolutely nothing in particular.

And honestly? That’s kind of everything.