There Are Days That Remain Engraved in Memory

22 January 2026 – At Sea

Nothing to report, really… One of those gentle, precious days when time seems suspended between sky and sea. Exercise to awaken the body, reading to nourish the mind, the sun to caress the skin and gently tame the passing of time.
And then, almost like an enchanted interlude, how could I forget it? A fascinating conference devoted to the Panama Canal, captivating from beginning to end. The kind one would not have missed for anything in the world, so much did it invite travel, history and dreams of distant horizons.
The evening ended in elegance and emotion with a sumptuous opera performance. Strauss was there, of course… And with him, all the magic of grand evenings at sea. The notes seemed to float through the air like a gentle breeze, wrapping the ship in an almost unreal atmosphere. For a few moments, the vessel was no longer sailing only across the ocean, but also through the heart of a dream.

23 January 2026 – Puerto Limón – Costa Rica

Even though my excursion was not scheduled until 12:45 p.m., a beautiful sunny day was already unfolding before me. No sooner had we docked than lively music reached me from afar… and what a joy it was. Still, that did not stop me from going to the gym, even though those sounds were drawing me in like a magnet.

I had not seen the morning go by, divided between editing a video and writing my blog. One small thing, however, had changed in my habits: for the first time, I was finally going to enjoy a pizza on the ship. A simple craving… there is no need to explain it.
It was already 12:30 p.m. I hurried to the amphitheatre to join the other participants for the excursion, then boarded the bus. I settled by the window, where the light gently brushes the landscape.
First came the port, the beating heart of the city: immense cargo ships, cranes in motion, and that lively bustle so typical of major docks. Very quickly, we reached the Tortuguero canals, where large boats were waiting for us. What a pleasure it was to glide slowly between banks covered in lush vegetation. Time seemed suspended.

Sloths appeared among the branches, still and serene, while tropical birds punctuated the silence with their calls. Along the banks, baby caimans could just be glimpsed, barely disturbed by our passing, and iguanas basked in the sun.
Those two peaceful hours, spent listening to the slightest sound, had been so restful that, thirty minutes later, when the lively streets appeared, I found it hard to get back into the atmosphere.
Then the beauty of the colourful façades, forming a vibrant patchwork and reflecting Limón’s Afro-Caribbean identity, woke me up. It took only a few minutes for me to be carried away by the local rhythm of life, filled with music and smiles. In a very lively street, I even let myself take a few dance steps.
No sooner had I climbed back onto the bus than the scenery changed. Close to the coast, tropical vegetation seemed to spring up almost within reach: palm trees, dazzling flowers, lush foliage, like a prelude to the sea.
And then, suddenly, the Atlantic stretched as far as the eye could see: a deep blue, scattered with silver reflections, accompanied by the gentle breath of the trade winds.

I expected to return directly to the ship, and yet, quite unexpectedly, we stopped along the way. The bus dropped us off beside a park where enormous birds lived. The sight was magnificent.
In this lush forest, all kinds of birds revealed themselves, from parrots to the most astonishing species. Colours burst out everywhere, including flamingos, like one final echo of the tropical palette that had accompanied us since the beginning of the journey.
It was a wonderful surprise, filled with majestic animals, before returning to the ship. This panoramic bus tour was not simply a journey: it was an immersion into the landscapes, colours and soul of Puerto Limón.
When I joined the two Canadian couples for dinner, they too exclaimed that they had been treated to a very beautiful surprise with the unexpected visit to this park. We spent the evening talking about this discovery that had amazed us, rich in events and emotions.
Later that evening, Andy Bunger, a xylophone musician, was performing. However, I preferred to decline the invitation and return to the arms of Morpheus, especially as I would have had to wait another hour before the show began. And besides, this day had enchanted me so much that I wanted to remain on that soft and magical note.

25 January 2026 – Panama Canal – Costa Rica

A man, a plan, a canal: Panama… From the morning, I was out on deck, microphone in hand, ready to share this exceptional moment with all my online followers. Dawn had barely broken, and I could already feel that this day would be unlike any other, one of those rare moments that mark a journey forever.
Shortly afterwards, the calm and steady voice of the ship’s captain echoed through the vessel.

He explained to us, step by step, how this extraordinary day would unfold. Very early in the morning, an official Panama Canal pilot would come on board to take control of the navigation for the entire crossing.
He reminded us that the Panama Canal, approximately 82 kilometres long, is a vital link between the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific Ocean, avoiding the long and perilous detour around Cape Horn. Our ship would be using the new lock system, specially designed to accommodate new-generation, larger vessels like ours.
These modern locks, equipped with water-saving basins, reflect a desire for more sustainable management of freshwater resources. Each chamber, impressive in its dimensions, 427 metres long, 55 metres wide and 18.3 metres deep, would allow the ship to be raised and then lowered by around 26 metres above sea level.
Throughout the day, we would sail at reduced speed across Gatun Lake, one of the largest artificial lakes in the world, surrounded by lush tropical forest, where nature seemed to converse with impressive modern infrastructure.

I followed each stage of this crossing step by step, attentive to every manoeuvre, every passage through the locks. I knew that, for me, this moment would be unique, that I would probably never witness such an achievement with my own eyes again. And that was undoubtedly what made the moment even more precious.
When the pilot left the ship at around 6 p.m., marking the end of this extraordinary crossing, we were entering the Pacific Ocean, heading towards our next destination: Puntarenas, Costa Rica.
I was deeply amazed. Dazzled by this technical feat, by the human ingenuity capable of connecting two oceans, but also touched by the silent beauty of this truly exceptional passage. A day I will keep within me like a treasure, aware that I had lived a moment I would probably never experience again.
The evening naturally continued with my two Canadian couples. Of course, much of our conversation revolved around the Panama Canal, as the crossing had left such a strong impression on us. Everyone shared their feelings, their astonishment, the powerful images from that extraordinary day.
Then, almost spontaneously, the conversation took another direction. One of the couples asked the other, quite simply: “I’d really like to… I know you know how to play belote. Could you teach me?”
That moment touched me far more than I could have imagined. Belote immediately brought me back to my grandfather, to the games he used to play. When one of the Québécois began explaining the rules of the game, memories of my youth resurfaced, soft and unexpected.
It was an intimate moment, one I had not anticipated, a beautiful moment lived without anyone really realising it. These two couples are wonderful: curious, open-minded, able to move naturally from one subject to another, making every exchange rich and warm.
As for the show, the day had once again been so full and so intense that I had almost no energy left for it. I still went down to the amphitheatre. I checked what was scheduled that evening: a Colombian dance show. But there was still nearly an hour to wait before it began, and honestly, I did not have the courage.
I had already been overwhelmed by beauty throughout the day. So once again, I preferred to return to my cabin, letting the emotions slowly settle, satisfied and at peace with everything I had experienced.

25 January 2026 – At Sea – Costa Rica

I begin this day under the sign of fatigue. My first instinct is simple: to rest… after all, it is Sunday. My body is asking for a pause and, on that morning, it seemed to speak louder than willpower.

But very quickly, one thought imposes itself on me: my commitment to my friend David Laplaud. The Camino de Santiago in 2027 is not just some distant project; it is a promise, an inner course to follow.
So I gather my courage and put on my shoes to complete my daily 10,000 steps. Each step feels heavier than usual, but also more symbolic. As if, beyond the deck of the ship, I were already beginning another journey.

At exactly 12 noon, the ship’s captain speaks, as he does every day, to inform us of the sailing conditions. But this time, the announcement is different: the stopover in Guatemala has been cancelled by MSC, officially for security reasons.
A wave of frustration immediately washes over me. All the excursions are being reorganised, and a second day in San Diego is now planned. I then wonder whether I should book a new excursion for this additional day, on top of the one already scheduled.
Nothing truly seems to depend on me; decisions are made, cold and final, as if the journey were being rewritten without consulting its passengers. The same feeling runs through me when I learn of the cancellation of my visit to Ilo, scheduled in a few days’ time.
The reason given: no more availability. And yet, when I had registered, places were still available… Bad luck, perhaps. Or maybe MSC gives priority to certain travellers? The question remains suspended somewhere between incomprehension and resignation.

The visit to the hairdresser, as every Sunday, offered me a relaxing interlude. This Mauritian man is still as friendly as ever, and this little ritual does me good.
Once again, I declined the show. Nothing really appealed to me. No desire, no impulse. And in the end, it did not matter so much. A day without any particular sparkle, marked by annoyances and fatigue, but largely saved by human warmth, the pleasure of sharing, and those simple moments that give meaning to the journey.
Fortunately, the true light of the day was waiting for me at the table. Reuniting with my two Canadian couples of friends was a simple but profound happiness. Very quickly, the informal “tu” settled in naturally, and the conversations came alive, sincere, spontaneous, full of life.
We are different, that is true, but this difference becomes a richness. Everyone brings their own perspective, their story, their sensitivity. And around the table, between bursts of laughter and confidences, that rare and precious feeling is born: the feeling of being exactly where one belongs, carried by human warmth in the middle of the immensity of the ocean.

A particularly revealing moment: last night, one of the two men confided to us that he now took pleasure in coming to dinner, something he had not done before, and something he would never even have imagined doing. He also mentioned that he liked the buffet.
That says a great deal: these dinners have become a chosen and anticipated appointment, a true moment of sharing.
Kenzia’s anecdote added a touch of lightness and laughter: she told us that one day she had borrowed her husband’s cap without noticing what was written on it, O.P.P., which triggered a general burst of laughter around the table.
Then came a moment I always look forward to with pleasure: a few pages of my book, given to me by my friend Michel. A novel by Marc Levy. I love his world. How had he known that this book would suit me so perfectly?

26 January 2026 – Puntarenas – Costa Rica*

Costa Rica is life in its purest form / Costa Rica is pura vida

My nights are filled with dreams. I am alone, but in my mind, never truly so. Every evening, I fall asleep like a baby. I am lucky that way.

The fatigue built up from exercising probably has a lot to do with it. And yet, on some nights, the sound of trolleys echoes above my cabin until very late. A continuous, metallic rolling sound, like an invisible life carrying on while the ship gradually falls asleep.
At the time, I wondered about it without really understanding. I would later learn that my cabin was located just below the kitchens… At last, everything made sense.
Despite that, sleep always ends up carrying me away peacefully. The hardest part is often the early morning. Around 5:30 a.m., the first movements begin again above my head and gently pull me out of sleep. And then, sometimes, it is impossible to fall back asleep.
So I remain lying down for a few moments, somewhere between dream and reality, listening to the ship come alive before dawn. I finally get up around 6:30 a.m., almost always at the same time, like a comforting ritual.

After a simple breakfast, just cereal, nothing more, I head back to the gym. Floor exercises to ease my back, strengthen my core, work on my squats. A little more each day, with that quiet but precious feeling of making progress.
Then come my 10 kilometres on the bike, always faithful to the appointment.

Afterwards, I return to my other routine: my blog. Downloading photos, filming a short video for my online followers… This invisible connection nourishes me deeply.
I am alone, yes, but I do not complain about it. When I observe certain couples around me, already worn down by tensions and arguments, I also realise the peace that this chosen solitude gives me. Women can sometimes be uncompromising, men endure in silence… at least, that is my impression at the time. And yet, I am a woman too.
Lunch takes place at the buffet, reasonably, without excess and without too many calories.

In the afternoon, I headed to Puntarenas for my second Costa Rican immersion. Sitting on the bus, I let myself be carried along. Puntarenas appears like a strip of land set between the Pacific Ocean and tropical softness.
I noticed that, since this excursion was included, I found myself mostly among French passengers. After about thirty minutes, some of them began correcting the guide as he spoke. Perhaps it was due to the heat in the air: warm, humid, vibrating. Here, everything seems to slow down.
The first striking images were those of the Pacific coast, with its long beaches lined with palm trees. The ocean was sometimes calm, sometimes wilder. The colours were intense: the deep blue of the water, the dense green of the vegetation, the pale sand warmed by the sun.
The road passed through simple, lively neighbourhoods. One could sense the daily life of the inhabitants, the small colourful houses, the local shops, an atmosphere without pretence. Puntarenas is not a frozen postcard, but an authentic place.
Farther on, nature reclaimed its rights: mangroves, tropical trees, birds, and sometimes an iguana motionless in the sun. It quickly becomes clear that Costa Rica is a country where biodiversity is never far away, even in town.
At times, certain viewpoints offered superb panoramas over the ocean. Perfect moments to stop, look and breathe. Simple but powerful moments, when one truly feels elsewhere.
This visit was above all a first taste. It did not try to impress, but rather to make us feel the atmosphere, the rhythm, the soul of Costa Rica. A gentle and peaceful discovery, inviting observation more than haste.

On the way back to the ship, the atmosphere in the bus gradually began to change. As if the beginning of the excursion had not already been enough to put the guide back in his place, certain remarks started up again.
As I listened more closely, I heard echoes of dissatisfied cruise passengers: the two included excursions were criticised, then the conversations drifted towards the dinners, which were considered rather unconvincing.

These comments accompanied our arrival at the port, contrasting with the serenity and richness of the landscapes still visible through the window. Even so, for me, they did not alter what truly mattered: having allowed me to feel the atmosphere, the rhythm, the soul of Costa Rica, a gentle and peaceful discovery that invites observation more than haste.

It is very late when I return to my cabin. Will I have time to take a shower and get changed before joining my Québécois friends at the restaurant?
Luckily, I receive a message from Kenzia and Claire: “Tonight, we are having dinner at the buffet. Join us if you’d like…”
What a pleasure it is to read those words… so they really do like me! I am delighted. And as with every dinner, everything goes wonderfully. Jokes fly, everyone shares a little of their life, an experience, a memory. Once again, this moment makes the dinner truly exceptional.

As I briefly check, on my MSC app, what is scheduled tonight at the amphitheatre, I realise that I do not really feel like going. My absence from the show has nothing to do with the remarks I have heard from certain cruise passengers, whom I have met several times late in the evening, telling me they no longer go because they find the shows identical to those of the previous year.
In my life, I have always done things out of desire rather than necessity, and that is exactly what has guided me since the beginning of this cruise.
Apart from the Opera… so far, no show has truly moved me. I finally decide to return to my cabin to write and read. Happy to be back in my cocoon, even though the noise continues every evening until 10 p.m. and starts again in the morning from 5 a.m., which I assume is when the staff begins their work.