The Ports: Where We Got Off the Boat

Where the Appian Way Ends

The road to Rome finishes here. Our port days started here.

Our first port, and a quiet one. We went ashore and simply walked the town, which turned out to be exactly the right call for an easy day one. Brindisi isn’t on most people’s Italian bucket list, and it doesn’t try to be. It’s a working port town with a pleasant historic center that rewards an unhurried stroll.

The highlight sits at the top of a grand flight of steps above the harbor: the Roman column that marks the end of the Appian Way, the ancient road that ran all the way from Rome. Standing at the finish line of a road the Romans built over two thousand years ago is a pretty good way to start a cruise. We took the obligatory selfie. We regret nothing.

The Port We Didn’t Visit (On Purpose)

Rain, wind, a bobbing tender, and a very good spa.

Full disclosure: we never set foot in Pylos. The morning rolled in rainy and windy, the tender was bobbing like a cork, and the Staches took one look and made an executive decision.

Two of our braver travel companions suited up in full rain gear and went ashore anyway. They came back soaked, delighted, and full of stories — the town, the fortress, the bay — which they shared with us over pre-dinner cocktails. We’ll admit it: we wished we’d been there.

But not enough to regret a single minute of how we spent it instead: six glorious hours lounging in the thermal suite and reading at Crema Café, while the rain did its thing on the other side of the glass. Some port days are for exploring. Some are for remembering you’re on a floating luxury hotel.

Their verdict, delivered between sips: Scouted. A fortress worth the climb, a town worth the walk, and views across Navarino Bay worth every raindrop. Pylos stays on our list. Next time, we’re bringing rain gear.

Undeniably Beautiful, Thoroughly Discovered

Windmills, wine, and a $300 shirt made somewhere very far away.

Mykonos is a Greek island with a complex presentation. It is undeniably beautiful, and the view from the windmills is lovely. But, as with most places overrun by tourists, the authentic feel has been lost to a labyrinth of restaurants with English menus and street after street of linen shops selling very overpriced clothing, made in China. Think $300 shirts.

Food and drink prices are universally high here, so we leaned into it the smart way: a lovely afternoon in Little Venice with light bites and a bottle of Greek white, watching the tide rise at our feet. Take a look at the area from the sea side, too — and choose your seat carefully, or you may end up a bit wet.

Before that, we landed at Negrita. Not sure why we chose it, but the wine was crisp and fresh, the service was great, and the view? Fabulous. Sometimes the random pick wins.

Take the Ferry. Skip the Tour.

The island next door is the point.

If your cruise brings you to Paros, hop on the ferry to Antiparos. The name says it all. Antiparos is a dream of a Greek island: an adorable little town, real charm, unique ruins, and the kind of pace that makes you cancel the rest of your afternoon.

The flaw was entirely our own doing: we did it on a ship excursion, which turned a lovely island into a bus-bound hostage situation. Do this one yourself. Take the public ferry, wander the town at your own speed, and find your own beachfront café — ideally one that remembers your order. The full saga is in Part 2.

Mykonos’s Quieter, Classier Cousin

Smaller footprint. Equally stunning. Far fewer linen shirts.

Patmos was a lovely port: a smaller footprint than Mykonos, but an equally stunning location. Stark, desert-like hillsides drop straight into turquoise water, and the town is all whitewashed lanes and lovely white buildings that haven’t yet traded their personality for a linen shop.

We wandered the town with no agenda and enjoyed every minute ashore. Up on the hill, the fortress-like Monastery of Saint John watches over everything, as it has for about nine centuries. We admired it from below. Maybe next time we’ll make it up to the fort.

A note on the photos here: they’re stock. We were having too nice a time to take our own, which, frankly, is the highest compliment we can pay a port.

Thoroughly Scouted. Thoroughly Skipped.

No rain this time. No wind. No excuse.

The itinerary said Hvar; our scouts’ photos say Trogir, the beautiful little UNESCO-listed medieval town just up the coast. Either way, the Staches have a confession to make: we were just lazy.

We genuinely wanted to see that historic town. We read about it. We talked about it. And then we spent the day in the thermal suite and reading on deck, again, while our braver co-travelers went ashore, climbed the cathedral bell tower, explored every lane, and spent the entire evening gloating about it over cocktails. Fair enough. They earned it.

Their verdict: Scouted. A stunning cathedral, a jaw-dropping Renaissance chapel, a spiral staircase that tests your nerve, and a view from the top worth every step. We’ll just have to take their word for it. And go back.

We Saw the Greek Islands. We Didn’t Experience Them.

An honest accounting, drink in hand.

Let’s be straight with you. We glimpsed a great deal of these islands with a drink in hand, from the deck of a wonderful floating hotel. A few hours ashore here, a stroll and a latte there, back aboard before the last tender. Regrets? Not one. It was a glorious way to spend two weeks.

But a port day is not the Greek Isles. Stopping in on an island and actually experiencing it are two very different things, and we’d be lying to you — and to ourselves — if we pretended otherwise. A cruise gives you the postcard: the harbor, the windmills, the fortress on the hill, a lunch you’ll remember. It doesn’t give you the slow morning in a village café, the second night after the day-trippers leave, or the island that only reveals itself once the ship has sailed.

If you want to truly explore the Greek Isles — the culture and customs that have been quietly accumulating for a few millennia — do it on foot, and island-hop on the ferries. The network is extensive, reliable enough, and the way the Greeks themselves travel. Stay a few nights. Get lost on purpose. Let an island be boring for an afternoon, because that’s usually right before it gets interesting.

And yes, we’ll admit it: we came home with a short list of islands we’d love to return to and do properly. Katapola, for its sleepy perfection. Patmos, for that monastery we only admired from below. Corfu, for the lunch that kept us ashore. Pylos and Trogir, because our scouts won’t stop gloating.

Cruise to sample the islands. Ferry to know them. We’ve done the first. The second is on the list.