The Ultimate Journey

 

After decades of hard work and too-short vacations, the author and her husband wanted to try something different: traveling around the world by ship.

 

By Helen Sandow

Photographs by Len Sandow

 

 

I READ SOMEWHERE ONCE THAT “THE ROMANCE OF LIFE IS LOST THROUGH SPEED AND EFFICIENCY.” The line stayed with me because it felt true, and my husband felt the same way: We had spent most of our lives in search of speed and efficiency, and we longed to try something different—something that would compel us to change our pace. The two- and three-week vacations we’d taken over a lifetime were sometimes stressful and always far too short. How do you decompress from a lifestyle you’ve pursued for decades?

The world cruise on the Seabourn Sojourn seemed like just the right experiment. Departing from Los Angeles, the Sojourn, a 650-foot, beautifully outfitted boat, would travel through the South Pacific to New Zealand and Australia, then north to Hong Kong, Vietnam, Thailand and Singapore, then west to Dubai, Cairo and Greece, and onward to Italy, Spain, Portugal and France before finishing in London. (With, of course, stops in between.) With plenty of time for land excursions, the journey would take 111 days. Some people took the option of coming onboard only for specific legs; we chose to go all the way. We would travel almost 30,000 miles, traverse 20 bodies of water and visit 46 ports.

 

That’s not to say that we didn’t have some butterflies. The planning was considerable: medications, passports, visas, vacation health insurance and all the steps needed to put our land-based lives on temporary hold (the ship’s optional Personal Valet Luggage Service also helped make the transition from land to sea). As we sailed away from the Long Beach Cruise Terminal, standing on the Sojourn’s teak deck with chilled glasses of champagne in our hands, we felt eagerness and anticipation—but also an almost palpable nervous energy.

We needn’t have been concerned. Traveling well is an art, and Seabourn has perfected it. From the moment we stepped aboard the Sojourn, everyone, from the room stewardess to the baristas, was gracious and intuitive, as if they already knew exactly what it was like to spend four months at sea and anticipated every concern we might have.

It took, I think, about a month before we fully left behind the cares and concerns that we had brought aboard just as tangibly as if they were baggage. I know our personal suite stewardess, Marina, helped. Her utmost care and attentiveness, coupled with unobtrusive service, made us feel at home, and our suite soon became our own special enclave. All requests were addressed—and anticipated—as we sailed. From the toiletries to the laundry services (we even found we could have probably packed less), no detail was overlooked.

But we also encountered something we hadn’t expected on a ship: an extraordinary sense of space and freedom. The freedom came from shedding the daily obligations of our normal life, the gradual sense of letting go of responsibilities which, once cast off , didn’t seem as important as they had. In their place, the sun, the breezes, the movement of the sea, the exquisite food and luxurious surroundings sustained us—even the simplest of offerings like reading a book or playing a few hands of bridge seemed special. We would wake up in the morning, stand on our balcony in the early light and gaze out upon a new country. Each stop lay before us inviting exploration: the serenity of a desert camp in Dubai, the scent of the earth and flowers in Sorrento, wondrous sites at Petra or the Temples at Luxor, the cliff s of New Zealand, the bustling city of Hong Kong or the sleepy island village of Nuku Hiva.

And although the Sojourn carries 450 passengers, we never felt crowded; we always had whatever space we needed. We made friends, of course; it would be hard not to. But we most relished the solitude we never seemed to find time for at work and home.

It wasn’t until my husband and I had arrived home and unpacked that the epiphany dawned: The impressions we’d had of work, home, friends and family had been replaced with newer, clearer visions. Things we had previously considered important didn’t seem so essential any more, and the things that really mattered we saw with greater clarity.

Someone asked us at the end of the cruise if we would do it again. Silly question.

Price range for the 2012 world voyage (aboard the Quest) starts at $53,850 per person based on double occupancy and runs to $236,850. Contact: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it , 800.929.9391, seabourn.com

GRACIOUS SERVICE

 

Since there is virtually one staff member per guest, the personalized service received is incredible. From the suite steward who draws your essential oil-packed bath to the barista preparing fresh lattes, every member of the staff will remember your name—and your preferences.

SUITE LIVING

 

Besides spanning 300 square feet and boasting a teak verandah, the sleek, modern suites are designed with comfort in mind; pillows and linens are chosen based on a pre-boarding questionnaire, and tiny luxuries like 24-hour room service, a flat-screen TV, Wi-Fi and marbled bathroom are standard.

RELAXATION OASIS

 

Located in a secluded area on the ship’s uppermost deck, the Spa Villa offers a full range of services and a menu of exquisite signature rituals. No matter what treatment you choose, ship-goers can enjoy the relaxing sanctuary’s fitness area, personal trainers, deck and private balconies.

CULINARY DELIGHTS

 

Executive chef Graeme Cockburn cooks dishes “a la minute” and is committed to guests’ satisfaction—as well as local flavors (think fresh-caught fish and locally grown produce that’s purchased at port). Don’t miss the “Shopping With the Chef” excursion to see Cockburn in action as he travels from market to market to make his selections for that night’s dinner.

ADVENTURES ASHORE

 

Operated by local vendors, the excursions off the ship—a swim off Moorea, an evening in the Dubai desert—offer something for everyone.

Curator