I never understood cruise people. They have the energy of hobbyists who meet in secret Facebook groups and say things like “our last sailing was divine”.
They know their ship classes the way car guys know their engines. They say “at sea” as if they personally own the ocean. They keep photos of the fruit carvings from the buffet. Their entire personality becomes “cruise”.
I used to judge this. I was smug, land-based and very sure of my superior holiday style. Then I boarded the Celebrity Edge for a 12-night New Zealand sailing and, frankly, my sense of self crumbled.
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Within 48 hours I developed opinions about stateroom layouts. I checked the daily schedule as if it were scripture. By day five, I caught myself thinking “ah, fellow cruisers” about people I’d never met.
By day seven, I was Googling the release date of Celebrity Xcel the way other people monitor stock prices.
I have become them. I have joined the cult.
The moment the conversion began
The shift started the second I walked on board. The ship was so shiny and serene that my brain simply gave up resisting. I stepped into the central atrium, saw a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a billionaire’s foyer, heard someone cheerfully saying “welcome home”, and felt something inside me break in the most glamorous way.
Then I discovered my Infinite Veranda stateroom and underwent a spiritual awakening. Whoever came up with the idea of a window that becomes a balcony at the touch of a button deserves a national holiday. I stood there lowering the glass pane like I was performing a ceremonial ritual. Within minutes I had claimed the space as my little nest. I took more naps than a Victorian-era lady recovering from a fainting episode. At one point I considered the moral implications of living the rest of my life in a stateroom and decided it was probably fine.
There is something about being gently rocked by the ocean that convinces you you’ve earned rest you did nothing to deserve. The curtains closed, the bed soft, the temperature perfectly controlled. I have never been so committed to the art of doing nothing.
The Retreat: where my personality softened into buttery bliss
Access to The Retreat is one of those things that makes you feel like you’ve infiltrated the upper crust. Suddenly I was a person who said things like “I’ll be by the private pool later” with a casual tone that masked my full-body delight.
The sun deck was all cabanas, soft towels and calm faces. I lounged so hard I could have medalled in it. The staff floated around with cocktails and fresh fruit as if we were on the set of a lifestyle ad, except real and with slightly windblown hair. I read half a book, drank an iced coffee so cold it felt like therapy, and convinced myself that this was very important self-care.
Dinner at Luminae on the last night was its own kind of revelation. I’m not usually someone who cares about signature dishes from celebrity chefs, but Daniel Boulud’s menu made me consider writing him a thank-you letter. Every dish was perfect. Not good. Not memorable. Perfect. I still think about the main course like it’s an ex who got away.
They tell you that if you want something from another restaurant, they can bring it to you. I didn’t need this service, but simply knowing it existed made me feel like I had unlocked a cheat code for life.
Raw on 5: my little sushi paradise
On day three, we went to Raw on 5, which will now haunt my dreams in a good way. It’s the kind of sushi that makes you rethink all the sushi you’ve eaten before and wonder why you ever accepted less.
Octopus, eel, tuna, sashimi so fresh it almost glowed. Then they served caramelised gingerbread with wasabi gelato. If someone had described this to me beforehand, I would have assumed they were trying to ruin my day. Instead, it was incredible.
I took photos of everything and sent them to my friends, who responded with, “How good are you eating that on a boat?” The jealousy tasted almost as good as the sushi.
Eden: dinner disguised as theatre
If Raw on 5 was paradise, Eden was a fever dream in the best possible way. The space spans three decks with an open kitchen that feels like an art installation. The performers wander around in slow, whimsical loops, and the lighting makes everything look slightly enchanted. The air feels different. The mood shifts. You find yourself whispering, not because it’s required but because it feels right.
I had perfectly cooked lobster was so rich and buttery, I needed a moment of silence. The sheep’s milk ricotta gnocchi was soft enough to make me emotional. The filet mignon and mini short rib wellington were the kind of dishes you feel privileged to meet.
I left Eden convinced that food should always be theatre and that life on land is lacking.
Oceanview Café and the surprising joy of the buffet
The buffet felt like a cheerful food festival that somehow moved with us across the ocean. The Caribbean night was the breakout star.
Jerk chicken, stews, fragrant spices, a whole room smelling like pure happiness. The Indian offerings were just as good. I had pumpkin pie one night and actually clapped with excitement. There was ranch dressing available whenever I wanted, which is both a blessing and a slippery slope.
Breakfast became my morning ritual. I sat with a plate of bacon, eggs and waffles, staring out at the water as if auditioning for a mindfulness advert. The coffee was hot. The view is endless. It was a small slice of serenity that set the tone for the whole day.
Cyprus and Tuscan: comforting, warm and memorable
The complimentary dining rooms felt like home in the best way. Cyprus served Mediterranean magic that made me feel like my soul had gone somewhere sunny and gave me the best lamb shank of the entire trip. Tuscan offered Italian warmth and yummy pasta. I still don’t understand how ship kitchens produce food this good while floating over waves, but I’m not here to question miracles.
The SEA Thermal Suite: where I left all sense of time
The SEA Thermal Suite was a full-body exhale. Steam rooms, salt rooms, crystal rooms, heated loungers. I wandered in intending to stay an hour and emerged three hours later like a relaxed ghost. My muscles let go of the tension I’d been carrying since high school.
For a moment, I considered whether I should settle there permanently. I couldn’t think of a downside except the impracticality of explaining to friends why I now lived at sea.
The entertainment that changed my view of cruise shows forever
I expected kitschy entertainment. You know, the kind of shows people politely applaud while thinking about dessert. Instead, I got full-scale productions with aerialists who defied gravity, singers who could hold their own on Broadway and game shows that were just a hint unhinged, which made them perfect.
Even karaoke felt like a professional audition. There is nothing more humbling than hearing a stranger casually belt out Whitney Houston on a moving ship.
The Theatre itself deserves respect. Rotating staircases, massive projections, special effects that made you forget you were on water. I underestimated ocean entertainment and I apologise.
Shore excursions: my little adventures on land
Our included tour in Tauranga was the Te Puia Thermal Experience, which made me feel like I’d stepped into a science documentary. Steam vents, geysers, bubbling mud that looked like it was plotting something. It was surreal.
Dunedin and Christchurch both involved shuttle buses, which were easy to hop on and off. Auckland was vibrant and walkable, but we took advantage of the local LIME scooters and jetted around the harbour and had the best fun all day seeing the city with extra speed. The Bay of Islands required a tender boat, which made arriving feel dramatic and cinematic, like I was entering on a royal visit.
The Premium Beverage Package and our descent into cocktail royalty
The drinks package was the most dangerous empowerment I’ve ever experienced. Everything was included, which meant that sampling cocktails became our unofficial sport. Cupid, the bartender, adopted us. He always had a suggestion ready, and I trusted him with my life.
There is something about an espresso martini at sea that hits the soul differently. Maybe it’s the salt air. Maybe it’s the thrill of drinking at 11am because you can.
Disembarkation and the cold slap of reality
Leaving the ship felt like being ejected from a dream. I had become used to unlimited food, nightly shows and the ambient sound of waves. Back on land, no one handed me a drink. No one made my bed. No one served sushi without effort from me.
Worst of all, I had to cook for myself. I felt betrayed by society.
Would I do it again?
Without hesitation. The Celebrity Edge gave me the most seamless, joyful and indulgent travel experience I’ve ever had. And with the upcoming Black Friday offer running from 27 November to 2 December 2025, the timing could not be better.
The deal includes up to 75 per cent off the second guest plus up to AUD 1,500 off select sailings, including journeys on the upcoming Celebrity Xcel arriving in 2025.
New Zealand itineraries start from around AUD 2,000 per person based on twin share interiors. Other 2026 itineraries include Greece, Malta and Turkey from AUD 2,199 and Fiji and Vanuatu from AUD 3,199. Prices were correct as of 17 November 2025, but you know how travel deals love to move around.
If my next sailing happens sooner rather than later, I’ll consider it a personal win. Cruise life is real and I am now one of its devoted members.
