I love living in the bow of the ship. It has its drawbacks for sure. Every seasoned cruiser will advise against choosing a cabin in the bow, arguing that low and center is preferable for optimal stability. And to prove that theory, our first four days of this journey were spent relentlessly rocking and rolling over white capped 23-foot waves. And nowhere is the motion of the ocean felt more than in the bow. Simple moves like showering and dressing are made much more complicated under such conditions and, should one be prone to seasickness, there is little relief except to await calmer waters.

But so far, having not yet felt squeamish and in spite of the inconvenience, I still love the bow. Our suite is front and center, just below the bridge. And from that vantage point I am always looking at where I am going, not where I’ve been. I find it exhilarating to watch the crew hoist the dock lines and anchors on the mooring deck, see the gulls balance confidently in the wind atop the jackstaff, and the rush I get from the first hazy glimpse of land on the horizon, as if an explorer making an unknown discovery. It energizes me and calms me, is both empowering and diminishing. 

And I don’t think I’m alone with the romance of the bow. Thanks to the movie Titanic, nearly everyone, if they are on a ship, now feels compelled to stand tall in the wind, throw out their arms, and shout to the world that famous, cheesy line that Leo DiCaprio almost refused to say, but still captures the thrill…”I’m the king of the world!”