It’s 11 a.m., and I’m contemplating if it's too early to order a Negroni. I’m splayed out on a plush gray lounger next to a small, sparkling infinity pool, squinting into my laptop as the Caribbean sun beats down on my sunscreened (and sunburnt) skin. I’m on board the ship Explora I, five days into a six-day cruise (or sail as they refer to it), and somewhere between Curacao and Martinique, I’m fairly sure that I’ve embraced what Explora Journeys refers to as “the ocean state of mind.” I’m my best vacation self: relaxed, unencumbered, and slightly sauced.
I’ve been on a cruise once before when my aunt and uncle took me down the western coast of Mexico for my thirteenth birthday. I remember small moments from that first trip: dressing up for dinner, spending a day curled up in my stayroom sick with sun poisoning, awkwardly attempting to make friends around the pool table in the teen club. I’ve since resisted the itch to return to life onboard, but last year’s christening of Explora’s first ship piqued my interest. I perceived them to be a new luxury player in the space, positioned to appeal to those more inclined to hang on a yacht than a supersized theme park on the ocean. Explora worked with designer and architect Martin Francis, who has designed yachts since the 1980s.
Explora I is the first of six ships under the Explora Journeys umbrella, the last to be finished in 2028. The company is privately owned by the shipping and logistics conglomerate MSC group, based in Geneva, Switzerland. Each ship is designed with environmentally sustainable practices in mind. That means they are RINA Dolphin certified for reduced underwater noise; no single-use plastic is allowed onboard; they use LNG, the cleanest marine fuel available; and have committed to reaching net zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2050.
With a ratio of 1.25 “hosts” for every guest, the ship was abuzz with staff members looking to carry your plate, whip you up a cocktail, or lead you through a fitness class. I’m not sure if it's a generational thing, but this was a major selling point for the older guests I talked to. They expected staff members to know them by name and how they take their coffee each morning (a bit pretentious to me, but whatever floats your boat). I found myself flustered by the attention, eager for a bit of anonymity on board, so I could flit about and take selfies on top deck without the embarrassment of being spotted mid-smize.
There’s an inevitable loss of time on a cruise ship. Unburdened by the chores I’d usually be dealing with at home thanks to thrice daily cleanings— chocolates and sparkling water awaiting each time I returned—days at sea are a relaxed blur. Sure, I was working, but for one week only, I did so in a bikini, tropical cocktail in-hand. At night, I slid into heels and fancy dresses I hardly have occasion to wear at home. Dressing up in the evenings was encouraged, and I was happy to oblige, not needing to worry about impractical subway commutes.
There are six restaurants and 11 bars on board, so each night I bounced from cuisine to cuisine, locale to locale. There was Marble & Co., the dark leather-trimmed steakhouse where I dined on filet mignon and caviar-topped potatoes. Then there was Sakura, its ceiling covered in fabric cherry blossoms, where a sushi chef handcrafted nigiri rolls at my whim. I ordered multiple rounds—an exercise in indulgence! Even Emporium, the ship’s buffet-style restaurant, was a lesson in instant gratification, from a pumping pizza oven, to freshly made pasta cooked à la minute.
As we dropped anchor in each destination, there was the opportunity to sign up for excursions. As a first time visitor, I made time for multiple. I walked around the colorful neighborhoods of Willemstad, which much resembled the canals of Amsterdam. I snorkeled, bobbing in the salty teal water, squirming when a fish brushed my legs. I hiked through a sugar plantation and tasted rum from a factory. While life on the ship was serenely easy, the ability to disembark and explore kept me from tipping my ocean state of mind into a state of doldrums.
For days at sea, there was a full-service spa where I could pad downstairs from my room in a plush robe and slippers and indulge in a massage or mani-pedi and make use of the saunas, which were surprisingly impactful despite the sauna-like temperature outside. I could also indulge in shopping, including the only Rolex store on the sea—not that anyone was keeping time on the ship. For exercisers like me, there was an outdoor track, basketball court, and a slick gym outfitted with Technogym machines.
Generally, on vacation I’m inclined to spend as little time in my room as possible, but my Ocean Penthouse became my quiet retreat despite its mere 463 square feet. The plush gray interior was cozy without feeling claustrophobic; I eagerly kicked back in my king bed as the ship rocked underneath me. In the mornings, I ordered room service coffee and drank it on my private terrace.I ended each day with a rain shower, stepping out onto heated floors and slipping back into my robe.
On the final morning, we arrived in Barbados with time for a quick buffet breakfast before disembarking. I felt miniature next to the ship, which was almost 200 ft. tall above the water line. An hour-long taxi bumped me back into the logistics of everyday life. Waiting in line at the airport, my feet firmly on dry land, I still felt the sway of the boat thanks to my newly-earned sea legs. My cruise was over in less than a week, but my ocean state of mind was coming home to Brooklyn with me.