At our table sat six men—fathers and their adult sons—cheerfully recounting their day’s fishing trip. When my husband stepped away to get more beers, one of the men leaned in quietly and asked, “Are you two here on holiday or trying to escape?”

I laughed out loud. He smiled playfully, shrugged, and said, “Well, judging by your accents, it could go either way, and I don’t want to offend. You might have a gun!”

My husband came back to the table just as my Kiwi neighbor and I were laughing it up.  I shared his question and answer with my husband, who immediately started laughing too.  From then on, we were friends. The men shared stories of their annual fishing ritual, with The Shucker Brothers as a must-stop before heading home, and staying connected until the following year.

We were learning how open, friendly, and fun the Kiwi people are.

As the sun dipped lower, we strolled along the Bondi Promenade and cut over to Campbell Parade to find a spot to relax before heading back to Coogee. There were plenty of places to choose from, but, true to form, we found the best dive bar and joined in the revelry. Chuck Trailer’s Bondi Beach was exactly the kind of spot we love.

It felt like home, like being back in San Diego’s Mission or Ocean Beach. Laid-back, beachwear-friendly, and full of good energy.

The best part? The spinning wheel.

The cardboard roulette-style wheel had numerous “prizes”, with highlights including a free drink, food discounts, a time-out, and a shoe drink.

We got to witness all of them. Let the fun begin!

I saw the birds ahead and the water splashing and told my daughter to get ready. Jax had sensed them long before we saw them. He suddenly jumped up and paced, anxious but excited. He came to me, and I thought he wanted to look over the edge—but he didn’t. Not yet.

Then the dolphins came. Hundreds—maybe thousands—jumping, racing, playing in our wake. My daughter’s family lit up with joy. Jax, still whining, finally came to the rail and looked over. His tail wagged. His ears popped back up. And he started that high-pitched whine he uses when he’s thrilled. Like when we approach Dog Beach or Fiesta Island—his "I can’t wait" sound.

My husband knelt beside him while Jax leaned over the rail, tail wagging, eyes wide. He’d look out, then come boop my hand, like he was saying, “Are you seeing this?!”

As the light began to soften, we hopped in the car and drove toward Hampden Bridge, crossing over the Kangaroo River and turning onto Bendeela Road just as Alex had advised. Almost immediately, we saw what we’d hoped for—kangaroos! Troops of them dotted the open fields, grazing in the golden hour light. My husband pulled over so I could hop out, take some photos, and just soak it in.

A little further on, as we passed some homes tucked back from the road, I saw them—two wombats munching away in someone’s front yard. I doubt the homeowners were thrilled, but I was absolutely giddy.

When I was twelve, I was a latchkey kid—like most of us Gen Xers. Being home alone or at a friend’s house without adult supervision wasn’t unusual. One day, I was at my friend Kitty’s house, just the two of us. For some reason, we decided to bake something.

We were responsible kids, so Kitty called her mom at work and asked for permission. Her mom said yes. (Again, Gen Xers.)

We browsed through Kitty’s mom’s many recipe books and settled on pumpkin pie. It must have been just after Halloween, because Kitty had a pumpkin. Real pumpkin pie—how hard could it be?

After the guide finished her talk, we made our way toward the canopied tables set for lunch. As we walked, the guide began pointing out some old machinery. That’s when I first heard her voice.

I don’t think she meant for us to hear it, but there it was: “Ah yes, the rusted machinery tour—every girl’s dream when she books Tuscany.”

My husband giggled and softly agreed, “Right?”

That’s when the three of us—me, my husband, and the voice—looked at each other and grinned. We all laughed and kept walking.

Little Italy is full of charm, and you can find just about any style of Italian cuisine—from casual trattorias and cozy pizza takeout spots to upscale dining. We popped into The Market by Buon Appetito, an Italian grocery and café. The aroma alone was enough to tempt me, but somehow, I walked out without a single item. That’s a personal record.

Just when I started to worry, Captain Kyle steered us south, and as if on cue, we could see hundreds of birds.  As we approached, the magic happened!

Dolphins. Thousands of them. We were suddenly in the middle of a megapod—common dolphins feeding, leaping, and surrounding our boat in every direction. As we entered their controlled chaos, they seemed to welcome us, some darting alongside the R.I.B., others weaving beneath it.  They!  Were!  Everywhere!

It started with a cough.

Just a little more than usual, but enough to worry us. We were a day into a cruise, and my husband—who has a serious lung disease—was starting to feel worse. I had packed our trusty small traveling pharmacy, which usually gets us through colds, stomach bugs, and sleepless nights. But this time, it wasn’t enough.

We passed dogs chasing balls, splashing, and barking joyfully. Jax greeted a large German Shepherd in passing — a quick sniff, no drama. Then, out of nowhere, a smaller Shepherd charged up. Jax turned to say hello, but this dog didn’t come in peace. He growled and snapped at Jax’s face and neck.

On our way out of the National Park, we encountered a young couple hesitant to cross a bridge. A family of white-faced capuchins—small but known as the most aggressive monkeys in Costa Rica—was leaping along the handrails and into the trees surrounding the bridge.

The dominant male was separated from his females and juveniles by the bridge, and we four stood at the bridge’s entrance, in his view, blocking their path.  We hadn’t even stepped onto the bridge, and he was already yelling at us.

The male monkey intimidated the couple, but my husband and I had already had close-up experiences with these monkeys throughout our Costa Rican adventures. We always respect them and their habitat and know how to walk past without incident.

I was alarmed to see a brown appendage slowly move into the fold of the white bath towel on the rack before me. I thought it was a tarantula, and I had seen one of its eight arachnid legs.

Despite my urge to pee, this seemed more important to tend to. I crept out of the bathroom and woke my sleeping husband.

He looked at me sleepily as I explained that something was on the bathroom towel. I described what I saw and exactly what I needed from him: bravery to move the towel and see what we were dealing with.

My darling husband is not used to me asking for help with these things. At home, I take care of spiders, geckos, snakes—anything other than roaches—on my own. But this was different. We were in Costa Rica.

We woke early the next day to the distinct and loud call of yellow-throated toucans right outside our room. I leapt out of bed and ran to the patio—completely naked. My husband, long used to my spontaneity, handed me a robe and joined me to admire the birds.

My husband froze. His eyes glazed over—no doubt flashing back to every time I’ve tripped, stumbled, or face-planted over the years.

He didn’t want to go any farther. But the girl had already marched up and was waiting politely. I wasn’t about to be rude. My loving husband knew better than to argue when I’ve set my mind to something, so he asked me to leave my bag on the first step before climbing. I did, and carefully ascended, him right behind me, ready to catch me if I fell.

I’ve never really considered myself a book club person. I’ve been an avid reader my entire life—I read fast, and like most readers, I have my favorite genres. The idea of being assigned a book I might not be interested in, and then having to meet up with others to sit around and talk about it, didn’t exactly sound compelling.

But when my oldest daughter started a book club and asked me to join, I gave it a shot. At the very least, it was a good excuse to see her once a month—even if only via Zoom.

We thought we were sailing from Rome. Instead, we stumbled into Civitavecchia—a quiet, cobbled port town that seemed unremarkable at first glance. But over two nights filled with late-night piazzas, local wine, and unexpected charm, this little ancient city became one of our favorite travel memories.

What was supposed to be a simple train journey through northern Italy turned into a scenic detour, a taxi hunt in a sleepy mountain town, and a reminder that sometimes, the best stories come from the plans that go sideways. From Civitavecchia to Tirano, with a little help from kind strangers and a lot of patience, our adventure unfolded—just not exactly how we mapped it.

Having cruised for over ten years, I’ve learned many ways to sail and explore the world while staying within a budget and not missing out on the fun. From budget-friendly excursion ideas to money-saving pointers while onboard the ship, these easy tips will help you get the most out of your trip without breaking the bank. 

What will I do today? A whole day stretched out, with no obligations and no clock to race against. And the truth of it hit me: I’m retired. I have nothing to do.

With the rising costs of travel, knowing how to save money on cruise fares and related travel can make your cruise experience even more enjoyable. Beyond cruise fare special sales and booking years in advance, there are other ways to make cruising even more budget-friendly.