OUR PAINTING JOURNEY BEGINS

Who knew that a simple 12-pan watercolor set could be a ticket to adventure, learning, and self-discovery on the high seas? In a moment of shared bravado, my wife Frances and I decided to embark on an artistic journey alongside our literal one. We purchased a 12 pan Cotman watercolor set, brushes, pencils, and paper, determined to have painting lessons every sea day during our round-the-world cruise.

As we packed our new art supplies, a mix of excitement and trepidation filled us. Neither of us had any artistic practical experience, but we were eager to learn together. Before even setting foot onboard, we found ourselves thinking what to paint. Should we attempt landscapes of the ports we’d visit? Seascapes from the ship? Abstract interpretations of our experiences? The possibilities were as vast as the oceans we were about to cross. We set an ambitious goal: to create a painting for every port we visited – 35 in total. It seemed daunting, but we reasoned it would add structure to our sea days and provide a unique way to document our travels.

Our lack of artistic confidence was evident, but we held onto the hope that by the end of our journey, we’d have not only a collection of paintings but also a newfound skill and perhaps a boost in self-esteem. After all, as the saying goes, “You have to start somewhere.”

BENEFITS WE EXPECTED

As we embarked on this artistic adventure, we anticipated several benefits:

1. Creativity and self-expression: We looked forward to having a new outlet for our creativity. The idea of communicating our experiences visually, beyond just photographs, was exciting.

2. Stress relief and mindfulness: We hoped that painting would provide a calming, meditative activity during our long days at sea. The thought of losing ourselves in the process of creating art was appealing.

3. Cognitive stimulation: We’d read that painting could improve memory, concentration, and problem-solving skills. As we aged, the idea of engaging in an activity that exercised our brains was particularly attractive.

4. Improved motor skills: The prospect of enhancing our fine motor skills and hand-eye coordination through painting seemed like a bonus benefit.

5. Shared experience: Perhaps most importantly, we saw this as an opportunity to learn and grow together, sharing in each other’s triumphs and challenges.

6. A unique travel record: We hoped our paintings, however amateur, would serve as a special memento of our journey, capturing not just images but emotions and experiences in a way photos couldn’t.

As we set sail, paintbrushes in hand, we were filled with anticipation. Would we discover hidden talents? Would we find painting frustrating or fulfilling? Only time – and 35 blank sheets of paper – would tell.

How I Wrote a Poem a Day on a World Cruise: When Reality Hits


When I set out on a world cruise last year, I had grand ideas about how I would write a poem every day. I’d prepared notes, ideas, and prompts — all neatly tucked away in a folder. But as soon as Day 1 arrived, that folder was forgotten and it seemed a stupid idea.. The reality of the journey reshaped everything. Here’s how I approached writing those daily poems without feeling overwhelmed:

One Day at a Time: The key was to treat it like I did when I gave up smoking twenty years ago when I was in New York — just stop smoking one day at a time, no stress. No hassle, it was something I could do, and it worked. So I never thought about writing 100 poems — just the poem for that day.

Establishing a Routine: It took a few days at sea to settle into a rhythm. My wife, Frances, and I spent most of our time together, but there was one hour each afternoon when she attended her singing class. That became my designated writing time.

A Quiet Space: I would follow Frances to the choir rehearsal, then find a quiet seat at the nearby bar (shut at that time of day) and write about the day before. I could turn my hearing aid off so it would be really quiet, although the bar was shut, a waiter would always come up to me and ask if I wanted a drink. This gave me a consistent place and time to reflect, get something down. My very first line was “the boat escapes under cover of darkness.”

Adapting to Port Days: When the ship was in port, there were no singing classes — and no regular writing time. Instead, I found a second routine: a short poem during the 20-minute bath before dinner, capturing the day’s experiences and realising I was not an explorer hunting for new adventures but a tourist. There’s the excitement of seeing new places, but also the sense of being an outsider, observing rather than belonging. Some experiences were fleeting, while others left a lasting impression. The poems became a way to engage more deeply with what I was seeing, not just ticking off sights but noticing the small details — the light, the people, the unexpected moments.

Poems vs. Journals: Writing poems rather than keeping a journal made the process feel more creative. A journal might have captured facts and events, but poems allowed me to distil each day into an essence — a mood, an image, or a small story. Poems offered a way to interpret the experience rather than just record it, leaving room for imagination as well as memory.

Momentum: By focusing only on the next poem, not the whole journey, I kept going without pressure. One poem led to another, until suddenly there were 100.

Adapting to Reality: What I’ve learned — and what others have often said — is that you can plan as much as you like, but reality often forces you to adapt. The trick is to go with it, find what works, and keep moving forward. As Winston Churchill said: “Plans are of little importance, but planning is essential.”

Mary Oliver, The Summer Day: A poem that encourages slowing down and noticing the world around you.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet: Thoughts on creativity, solitude, and the importance of daily observation.

Elizabeth Bishop, Questions of Travel: Exploring the complexity of being a traveller, torn between wonder and detachment.