How I came to love cruises

I met Lorna on my first Crystal Cruise four years ago. She was the kind of chic widow -- a blend of Auntie Mame, Holly Golightly and Lady Gaga, though less clownish -- who liked to subvert conventions, and her whimsically unhinged fashions were part of a continual performance piece that became a cruise signature.

We grew friendly but I never expected to see her again once I disembarked. I was wrong. During my second Crystal Cruise last year, before the ship had even pulled out of its Venetian dock, I saw a tall woman striding in front of me, wearing gladiator sandals, jodhpurs and a jaunty sailor cap.

"Lorna," I called. "How funny we'd wind up on the same two cruises."

"Oh, honey," she said, turning and laughing. "It's more than two cruises for me. I've been on the ship since you left. I just sort of forgot to get off."

Now Lorna, obviously, is the sort of kicky widow who comes cushioned by a major portfolio. Not a lot of people can afford to board a luxury liner and decide to call it home. But I realized when I saw her again, that if I were the kind of well-heeled oligarch who opted to keep circling the world, too lazy to disembark, then Crystal's Serenity would be the sort of ship that even I could stay bobbing on. And that was a shocking epiphany, because cruises had always seemed like something to avoid. In fact, they were a kind of personal phobia; the mix of deep-fried buffets, torturous captain's dinners and turgid ports of call were my definition of a claustrophobic nightmare.

But something happened to change my perception. In the past decade the cruise was reinvented and the evolution took two forms: Some cruise ships got bigger, while others got smarter. The bigger ships that have garnered the most press -- the kind that offer rock climbing, über-malls and double-decker discos -- make sense for people who want a nonstop, outsized joyride at sea. But for nontraditional cruisers, the growing flotilla of smarter cruise lines -- not just Crystal but equally compelling competitors like Seabourn and Regent Seven Seas -- have done nothing less than launch a revolution by rethinking the creaky rules of traditional cruising.

In effect, these smaller, upscale, thoughtful cruise lines -- the ones that focus more on serious itineraries, ambitious food and cultural themes -- have become the thinking person's anti-cruise. And for iconoclasts like Lorna and me, they've made cruising newly seductive.

This was the kind of eclectic schedule of ports that distinguishes the brainier lines and draws more seasoned travelers, because it puts the focus squarely on the destinations themselves instead of the insular, distracting toy box (the blinking lights and casinos and margarita parties) that is the real star of the epic-sized cruisers. One cruise looks out, at the passing landscape; the other stares, blinded, at its own shiny reflection.

Exotic, historical ports of call

In the end it was the itinerary that really sold me on the Tycho cruise, because it allowed me to sample a lot of places I'd always wanted to see but wasn't ready to commit to. That, to some extent, offsets the luxury liners' prices (Crystal's lowest prices if you book early range around $3,500 per person for a 10-day Caribbean trip and $5,080 for a nine-day Mediterranean cruise, including round-trip airfare). That's a significant expense, and a real commitment, but if you compare it to the cost of attempting an equally ambitious trip on your own, and the logistical nightmare of planning it, it doesn't seem quite as daunting.

The itineraries, for travelers who want to cram a lot into their once-a-decade splurge of a megavacation, are only getting better. Crystal's 2010-11 cruises include the Greek island of Kefalonia; Komodo, Indonesia; Tunis, Tunisia, and two polar ice cap visits. Regent counters with Angkor Wat and African wildlife reserves.

Docking somewhere exotic is pointless, though, unless you experience the place, and most of these liners' shore excursions (all, of course, entailing an extra charge, though you can wander gratis on your own) offer a range of visceral experiences.

The most eye-opening excursions for me were the most unexpected. I wasn't, in fact, that interested in the tour of Olympia, Greece, birthplace of the Olympic games, but I felt an odd obligation to join. And while I anticipated a half-ruined version of Gold's Gym, the very erudite tour leader (no Wikipedia notes for her) underscored something crucial: For the ancient Greeks, the games were less a test of brawn than an act of spiritual devotion. The site, punctuated by elegantly ruined temples pared down to their marble bones, exuded a hushed, ethereal air. It felt like a place of worship.

That's the kind of experience you need to process, as bad therapists say, and the other unexpected bonus of the cruise is that it provided the tranquility to consider what you just saw. The ship increasingly seemed less like a claustrophobic trap than a homey retreat to me.

What the Serenity seemed devoted to was, well, serenity, a mission reinforced by its zealous attempt to control size and -- contrary to the behemoth liners -- actually decrease it. On the line's recently renovated Crystal Symphony ship, the expanded cabins allow for only 922 guests, a boon to people who want to escape the world, not travel with it.

Onboard amenities enhance the pervasive sense of grown-up relaxation. The spa is one serious therapy center; the library is actually stocked with a variety of, yes, books, and guest lecturers have run a formidable gamut from James Carville and Barbara Walters to a think-tank of historians, biologists, anthropologists and journalists who offer serious context to the ports of call.

Sophisticated, delicious food

The theme that drew me to my first Crystal cruise and my initial meeting with Lorna was a "Wine and Food Festival." One of the more popular of Crystal's theme cruises (seven were planned for 2010 alone), the culinary fiestas include wine experts, demos, tastings, classes, special menus, top chefs (from Michael Mina to Suzanne Goin, and Nobu Matsuhisa), and gourmet shore excursions (chateaux dinners in Bordeaux, cooking classes in Barcelona). All that epicurean frenzy points to the luxe liners' perhaps greatest lure. Forget the archaic, onboard sit-down dinner with strangers, all picking nervously at the kind of dessicated fancy foods, the Baked Alaskas and cordon bleus, that could sink a ship.

Tossing out that hoary cruising tradition, Crystal was one of the first lines to pioneer an open-seating plan. You can eat pretty much when you want and, more important, where you want, because the line offers actual options. On the Serenity, in addition to the main dining hall, there is chef Nobu's Silk Road restaurant and Prego, an Italian restaurant featuring a menu designed by Piero Selvaggio (Regent's Seven Seas Mariner features a steakhouse and a French restaurant).

I pretty much stayed parked at the Silk Road my entire first cruise, because the kitchen's bento box includes chef Nobu's greatest hits (rock shrimp, black cod, wagyu beef). By my second cruise, though, I moved on, cautiously, to Prego, where the osso bucco and lasagna could have come straight out of a Tuscan trattoria. Maybe the biggest surprise was the quality of the food in the main dining hall, where the attention to detail surfaces first thing in the morning (I grew addicted to the eggs Benedict crowned by a hollandaise studded with black truffles) and never flags. Dinner entrees like a tapenade-encrusted salmon fillet paired with polenta prove that cruise lines have mastered a cleaner, updated version of luxe cuisine.

Yet anyone pining for a touch of old school cruising will find it.

Crystal's lavish lunch buffets suggest the ship's cooks can carve ice sculptures with the best of them, and there were touches of hokey shipboard traditions throughout both my cruises that still broke through the sleek surface. Consider the groaningly bad art auctions stocked with those ubiquitous Dali prints and a throwback formal night that included lots of sparkly dresses, tuxedos and lobster tails. And then there were the camp stage shows, including one Hollywood musical marathon that called for quick costume changes, from "My Fair Lady" (fancy hats) to "Fiddler on the Roof" (babushkas).

Raphael Kadushin is literary editor at the University of Wisconsin Press in Madison. His work has appeared in Bon Appetit, National Geographic Traveler and other magazines.