Today, we disembarked from the NCL Viva—a bittersweet moment, as it marks the end of nearly two weeks of pure indulgence and adventure. From savouring delicious meals and sampling wines, to enjoying top-tier entertainment each evening, every day felt like a celebration. And let’s not forget the underrated luxury of returning to a freshly made room each night. With no responsibilities and no planning required, we woke each morning to a new country or town just beyond our balcony. It was the kind of escape that makes reentry into the real world just a little harder as now we apparently our cruise card doesn’t work.
We loved the ease of discovering a new destination each day without the stress of logistics—no need to worry about transportation, directions, or unexpected expenses. Everything was prepaid, allowing us to simply relax and enjoy the journey. The tours were both insightful and entertaining, making the experience well worth the investment. With so many memorable moments, it’s nearly impossible to choose just one or two highlights
Most memorably, we connected with some truly wonderful people. Among the standouts were a charming older couple from Southern California who joined us on multiple wine-filled excursions, sharing both their passion and good humor. Equally delightful was a gracious mother and her talented daughter from Ohio, with whom we enjoyed coffee and a leisurely wander through Malta. Our paths crossed more than once, each encounter enriched by the stories and laughter we exchanged.
Culture and people have been highlights, of course we have experienced some functional or rude people, but we can find that at home, so no big deal.
Our fellow travellers were generally friendly and considerate. Cultural norms of course were observed.
We thoroughly enjoyed our time aboard the Viva, even with its unconventional layout. The ship’s design clearly prioritises spacious seating areas for relaxation and socialising, which we appreciated. However, this came at the cost of a grand atrium and more traditional walkways—some hallways even cut through restaurants and bars. It was a minor trade-off for the comfort and atmosphere the ship delivered throughout the journey.
The crew aboard the ship were impressively professional and consistently warm and friendly. It’s truly remarkable, considering their demanding schedules—working 10-hour days, seven days a week, for contracts that last seven to eight months. While they receive complimentary meals and accommodations, and the cruise line covers their flights home at the end of each contract, any chance to explore a port typically comes at the expense of their rest or sleep time. Their dedication and energy made our experience all the more enjoyable.
Exit from the ship went very smoothly. Too smooth, we arrived at train station one and half hours early. We built in “oops moments” in our travel timeline but not needed. The train station is fairly functional, certainly no thrills.
The train trip was typical European, comfortable and arrived on time in Rome! Termini station was busy and vast, outside station was “interesting” with usual not so nice folks waiting scam anyone foolish enough to engage with them. We walked twenty minutes to our apartment, as we moved away from the station the streets began cleaner, better kept and not being asked buy a bargain from I assume a Nigerian?
The apartment is large and well equipped. Large lounge and kitchen with a comfortable and large bedroom. The apartments are located in old early to mid 19th century building. Inside has been thoroughly modernised except the lift, which was probably installed over 100 years ago.
After settling in we ventured out for lunch and dinner. We settled on Il Girasole mainly because it was very close and drizzling rain. We sampled fried meats appetiser and a delicious authentic thin based pizza.
Our next adventure turned out to be… well, sadly interesting. We stopped by a local supermarket, a small IGA‑style store much like the ones back home in Australia. At the deli counter, my limited Italian skills quickly became apparent. Unable to properly ask for what I wanted, I resorted to pointing. The man behind the counter muttered something to his colleague, and though I couldn’t catch the words, his expression left little doubt that it wasn’t friendly.
Later, at the checkout, Melissa and I tried again with a few phrases in Italian, but the interaction felt just as strained. Both of us walked away with the same impression: at worst, we weren’t exactly welcome, at best she was curt.
It made me wonder—next time, perhaps I’ll switch on our instant translator and tune into the “back channel” of conversation we’re missing. More importantly, it sparked a reflection: if someone in Australia asked for directions in broken English, how would we respond? Would they feel embraced, or would they sense the same discomfort we felt here?
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